#Reactor Seals | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

solxamber · 4 months ago

Text

Signed, Sealed, Bonded || Jade Leech

Being an Esper is hard. Finding a Guide is harder. Somehow, the only one who can handle you is Jade Leech, who is both the best and worst thing that has ever happened to you.

or: Guideverse AU!

Series Masterlist

So, picture this: You wake up, make yourself some coffee, look outside the window… and BAM—a glowing hell portal is vomiting out nightmare creatures like it’s Black Friday at the Underworld’s Walmart.

No big deal. Just another Tuesday.

This is life now. The universe is one big, unstable loot box, and sometimes, instead of daily struggles like taxes or existential dread, you get eldritch horrors trying to redecorate your city with human remains.

And that’s why Espers and Guides exist.

Espers are the special little guys (derogatory) with godlike powers and a tendency to explode if left unattended. They punch things, obliterate monsters, and generally keep civilization from crumbling like a stale cookie.

But Espers have one teeny, tiny problem. A small, insignificant, itsy-bitsy little flaw—

Espers have a fun little self-destruct feature where, if they overuse their powers and aren’t calmed down properly afterward, they go berserk and start turning cities into craters.

Whoops.

That’s where Guides come in—people with the power to keep Espers from self-destructing and turning the planet into a post-apocalyptic wasteland. They are the Espers’ emotional support humans. Their job is to keep Espers stable, sane, and not prone to going Godzilla-mode on a bad day.

Cool system, right? Makes sense? Keeps society from crumbling?

Yeah, except there’s a problem.

The problem is you.

You are the single strongest Esper on the planet. SSS-Class. Top of the charts. The kind of power that makes scientists scream and military generals start sweating through their uniforms. If Espers were trading cards, you’d be the one people would sell their kidneys for.

There’s just one little issue.

You… cannot be guided.

Like, at all.

Every time a top-ranking Guide tries to do their job, your body reacts like you just swallowed a fork.

S-Class Guide tries to guide you? You feel like you’ve swallowed a beehive.

A-Class Guide reaches out? Your skin crawls like you’re being haunted by the ghosts of bad life choices.

Government’s best, most elite SSS Guide gives it a shot? You feel like throwing up and committing a crime, but you can’t decide which one first.

Basically, your Esper powers took one look at every high-ranking Guide and said, “I’d rather die.”

The entire world is losing its shit over this.

The government is stressed. Scientists are conducting emergency research at 3 AM. High-ranking Guides are offended because how dare you reject their very expensive, very prestigious guidance?

Nobody knows why.

Is it a genetic anomaly? A cosmic joke? Are the gods simply looking down at you and laughing? Science is baffled. The government is stressed. At this point, your mere existence is a “can we patch this in the next update?” level of disaster.

You’re a walking nuclear reactor with no off-switch. And people are starting to panic.

And meanwhile, you’re just standing there, the world’s most unstable walking nuke, trying not to sneeze too hard in case you accidentally vaporize a small country.

It’s fine. It’s totally fine.

It’s absolutely not fine.

Because if they don’t find a Guide who can actually handle you soon…

You’re going to go berserk.

And when an SSS-Class Esper goes berserk? Well. You know those fantasy novels where an ancient dragon wakes up and annihilates an entire civilization in one breath? That, but worse.

You had been this close to blacking out.

It wasn’t supposed to be this hard. You were an SSS-Class Esper, for crying out loud. You could sneeze and flatten a city block. But that Gate had been a nightmare, and without proper guidance, your body was losing its mind. Your veins felt like molten lava, your hands wouldn’t stop shaking, and your head was pounding with the kind of stress headache that could legally qualify as an assassination attempt.

So, like any responsible, law-abiding Esper who didn’t want to be put down like an unruly dog, you dragged yourself to the Guidance Center.

The moment you stepped inside, they immediately threw their best Guide at you—a fellow SSS-Class, the crème de la crème, the poster child of the entire system.

“Let’s begin,” they said, voice dripping with confidence, as if you weren’t already suffering. They reached out, their hands warm as they pressed against your skin.

And then.

Oh, God.

It hit you like a truck full of nausea and existential horror. Your stomach flipped so violently you actually gagged. Your muscles screamed in protest, every cell in your body rejecting the touch like a bad Tinder match.

You scrambled backward so fast you almost ate floor.

The SSS-Class Guide stood there, horrifically offended.

"Are you serious?" They demanded, arms crossed like a petulant child. "Again?"

You barely heard them over the sound of your own labored breathing because Wow. That had been unpleasant.

So now you were curled up on the floor of the Guidance Center, shaking from both overexertion and the delightful aftereffects of a guide touch that had made you want to throw yourself into oncoming traffic.

The SSS-Class Guide was still watching you, arms crossed, debating whether they should be more concerned about your wellbeing or their ego.

Which is exactly when Jade Leech walked in.

There was a pause.

Then a slow, deliberate click of polished shoes as he stepped toward you, tilting his head.

“…Are they supposed to look like that?” he mused aloud.

“No,” said the SSS-Class Guide, deeply unamused.

Jade hummed thoughtfully before crouching beside you, resting a hand on your shoulder. It wasn’t careful. It wasn’t hesitant.

And for the first time since your powers awakened, you didn’t want to fling yourself off a building.

Your whole body went limp.

The shaking stopped. The nausea faded.

Your mind, which had been screaming at a constant 200% volume since you turned eighteen and acquired your powers, went quiet.

It was the most blissful thing you had ever felt in your entire life.

The SSS-Class Guide was gaping at you like you had just committed high treason.

"Are you kidding me?" they spluttered. "Him?"

And then, with a huff, they stomped away, absolutely furious that you—the greatest Esper in history, the walking apocalypse—had rejected them but accepted some random nobody.

You, meanwhile, felt clear-headed for the first time in years.

You looked at Jade—at his unreadable expression, at the sharpness of his gaze.

And then you asked, voice hoarse but steady, "What’s your name?"

His lips curled into a polite smile. "Jade Leech."

"And your grade?"

He tilted his head slightly, as if entertained by the question.

“B-Class.”

Silence.

You stared at him.

Then, before you could stop yourself, you started laughing.

Of course this was happening. Of course the universe gave you a Guide you could accidentally kill.

What an absolute joke.

And yet…

You didn’t let go.

Jade Leech was the key to your survival.

Not in the romantic, fated, "I would perish without you, my love," kind of way (you weren't that dramatic, despite what your coworkers said). No, this was purely a matter of self-preservation.

For years, you had been operating like a high-powered, government-issued, barely-functioning time bomb.

Every time you subdued a gate, your body veered dangerously close to going berserk, and the only thing keeping you from breaking reality into tiny, apocalyptic pieces was the occasional half-hearted guidance session that felt about as effective as slapping a band-aid on a leaking nuclear reactor.

It was not ideal.

But now?

Now you had Jade.

Jade, the B-Class Guide who had accidentally waltzed into your life, touched your shoulder, and immediately rewired your entire nervous system.

For the first time since awakening as an Esper, you had felt calm. Like your power wasn’t on the verge of ripping itself apart. Like your own body wasn’t actively rejecting the guidance meant to stabilize you.

And it was incredible.

So, being the responsible and absolutely not impulsive person that you were, you did the only logical thing.

You decided to bribe him with a gift and ask him to temporarily bind himself to you.

Look, it wasn’t permanent.

Permanent bonding was a whole different beast.

If you bonded with Jade permanently, that was it. Game over. No take-backs, no re-dos. No guiding anyone else for the rest of his life.

Espers could still receive guidance from others, sure. But Guides? They could never guide anyone else again.

Which—haha, wow,—that had never caused any problems, ever. Definitely not an entirely predictable storm of jealousy and possessiveness among Guides who suddenly couldn’t tolerate the idea of their Esper ever touching another person.

So, no. You were not going to ask him chain himself to you for eternity. That would be both cruel and incredibly selfish.

But a temporary bond?

A temporary bond would greatly reduce the risk of you accidentally draining him to the point of no return. It would give you the stability to actually push your limits without fear of self-destruction. And most importantly, it would allow both of you to thrive.

It was perfect.

Which was why, two days later, you found yourself standing at the entrance of the Guidance Center once again, clutching a neatly wrapped gift like it was a sacrificial offering.

You marched inside with the confidence of a person who had rehearsed this conversation in their head a thousand times.

And then promptly lost all of that confidence the second Jade turned to face you, smiling like he already knew exactly what you were about to say.

"Back so soon?" he asked, his voice perfectly polite. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

You cleared your throat and forced yourself to act like a normal human being.

“I wanted to thank you,” you said, shoving the box into his hands before you could second-guess yourself. “For the other day.”

Jade’s eyes flickered with something sharp and unreadable as he took the box, his fingers brushing lightly against yours.

Then, before your already struggling brain could catch up to the recklessness of what you were about to do, you pushed forward.

“I also had a proposal for you.”

Jade tilted his head, looking far too entertained.

“I see,” he said. “Do tell.”

You inhaled deeply.

"Would you be interested in forming a temporary bond with me?"

There. You said it.

Now, all you had to do was wait for him to either:

A) Refuse outright because it was too much effort.

B) Agree immediately because having the strongest Esper in existence on a leash would give him unfathomable influence.

What you did not expect was for him to smile.

Not a normal smile. Not a polite, professional, "oh wow, what a fascinating suggestion," kind of smile.

No.

This was something else.

A slow, deliberate, sharp-edged thing.

Jade stepped closer, gaze glinting with quiet amusement.

"And what," he murmured, voice too smooth, too knowing, "would you be willing to offer me in return?"

You blinked.

Oh.

Oh, you might be in deep shit.

It had been weeks.

Weeks of asking Jade to temporarily bind himself to you. Weeks of bargaining, negotiating, and trying to convince him that this wasn’t some tragic, toxic love story where the frail Guide got used up like an expired battery. Weeks of him smiling at you like you were a particularly amusing lab rat scrambling against the walls of a maze.

And yet.

Despite all of that—he still guided you.

He still stepped in when your brain felt like it was melting from the inside out, still pressed a steady hand against your skin like it was the easiest thing in the world, still whispered, “Don’t fight it. Just relax.”

Which was a very funny thing to say to someone who could literally kill you by accident.

And that was the problem.

Because he wasn’t bound to you.

Which meant that if you drained him too much—if you accidentally pushed him past his limits—there would be no failsafe.

And if that happened—if you were even a fraction too reckless—

He would die.

And you would go to jail.

And, even worse, you would probably cry.

So, obviously, the rational thing to do was to pull away whenever you felt like you were taking too much.

Which brings you to now.

Jade had been guiding you for forty-five minutes.

FORTY-FIVE. MINUTES.

An ungodly amount of time. A suicidal amount of time.

You could already see the signs of fatigue in him. His touch had grown warmer, heavier, his breaths had slowed into something almost too steady.

He was getting tired.

Which meant it was time to get the hell out of here before you became a murderer.

You twisted, trying to sit up, and—like the absolute menace he was—Jade simply… swung his legs over yours, caging you beneath him like some deranged, smug, lanky cryptid that refused to let you escape.

You froze.

He smiled.

That sharp, infuriating, absolutely unhinged smile.

"Now, now," he murmured, voice sickeningly patient, "where do you think you're going?"

You stared at him in horror.

"You've been guiding me for almost an hour," you hissed, your muscles tense with the effort of not launching him across the room. "I refuse to let you die because you’re too stubborn to let me leave."

Jade tilted his head, considering.

"Hm."

You blinked.

"Hm"???

You had just laid out the possibility of a tragic demise and all he had to say was ‘hm’???

"What the hell does that mean?" you demanded.

Jade leaned in slightly, pressing his fingers against your neck, his touch featherlight.

"I wonder," he mused, eyes glinting with something that looked too much like amusement, "do you think perhaps you are underestimating me?"

"Underestimating you?" You nearly choked on your own disbelief. "Jade, you are a B-Class Guide. I could literally snap you in half like a goddamn glow stick."

"And yet," he said smoothly, "I am still here."

Your eye twitched.

"That is not the flex you think it is—"

"Shhh," he murmured, pressing his fingers against your temple. "Relax. Just a little longer."

You wanted to argue. You really, really did.

But the second his touch deepened the guiding, your entire body sagged under the weight of exhaustion.

You hated how much you trusted it.

You hated that, in the end, you let him win.

Because as much as you wanted to fight him, as much as you wanted to break free and flee the room—

You needed this.

And he knew it.

Which was why he was smiling so much.

The absolute menace.

Today, you did something very dangerous.

No, not fighting another Gate. Not risking your life for the safety of others. Not even getting guided by a man who was one unfortunate sneeze away from becoming a tragic obituary.

No, you did something far worse.

You asked Jade Leech what he wanted in return for keeping you alive.

It was a reasonable question! A necessary question! Because at this point, the man was essentially your life support, and it felt a little irresponsible to just assume he’d be happy with some gift baskets and heartfelt thank-you notes. If you were going to keep depending on him, you needed to know what he wanted.

So you asked.

And the menace smiled.

Which immediately sent your self-preservation instincts screaming.

That was never a good sign. Jade’s smiles were like sharks in shallow water—unsettling, unnatural, and a clear warning that something was about to go very, very wrong.

You braced yourself.

And then he said:

"A nature trail."

You stared at him.

And blinked.

And then stared at him some more.

Because surely you had misheard him.

“A nature trail,” you repeated slowly, because there was no possible way that was all he wanted. You had prepared for blackmail. You had budgeted for bribes. Hell, you had been willing to break the bank if it meant keeping him around (not to brag, but the government paid you stupidly well for constantly risking your life). And yet, out of all the possible insane, ominous, power-hungry demands he could’ve made—

He was asking for a casual stroll through the wilderness?

Jade nodded, the picture of serenity. “Yes.”

"That’s it?" You squinted at him, like maybe if you looked hard enough, you’d find some hidden, sinister agenda buried in his expression. "That's all you want? Not money? Not status? Not, I don’t know, government secrets?"

Jade’s lips twitched, his amusement almost palpable. “For now.”

For now.

For now???

You triple checked that he was being serious, eyed him with the kind of deep, unblinking suspicion normally reserved for politicians and people who ate their cereal without milk, but all he did was nod serenely.

And so, finally, reluctantly, completely aware that you were probably walking into some elaborate trap—

You sighed and muttered, "Sure. What the hell."

It was almost alarming how much fun you were having.

For once, you weren’t dealing with the constant, soul-crushing sensation of your own mind and body trying to rip each other apart like two rabid raccoons fighting over a single McDonald’s fry.

For once, you could just exist without the underlying fear of accidentally exploding something—or someone—if you weren’t careful.

And as it turned out, existing was kind of nice.

You took the time to smell the flowers (literally, because Jade had shoved one under your nose and said, “Tell me, do you also detect the faintest hint of decay?” which was an incredibly alarming sentence but a nice flower).

You watched as little woodland creatures scampered through the underbrush, entirely unbothered by the fact that an SSS-Class Esper and a B-Class Guide were just casually strolling through their home like a scenic couple in a nature documentary. And honestly?

It was peaceful. Disturbingly peaceful.

But the real sight—the real discovery—was Jade himself.

You had never seen him like this before. Completely in his element. He had dumped the entirety of your picnic basket into your arms without hesitation and was now roaming freely, examining plants with the intense curiosity of a man who had just found Atlantis.

Every few minutes, he’d pause and rattle off some absurdly specific nature fact at you, like, “This particular plant releases a toxin that causes temporary blindness if ingested. Isn’t that fascinating?” or “Did you know that otters sometimes use tools to crack open shellfish? Much like humans, they have a preference for certain objects. Some even carry the same rock with them for years.”

You had absolutely no idea why you found this so entertaining.

Maybe it was the way he spoke, all smooth enthusiasm and quiet amusement. Maybe it was the way he moved, effortless, unhurried, utterly unbothered by anything except whatever flora had captured his attention next. Or maybe—God help you—it was just him.

Not that you’d ever admit that. You’d rather eat your own boots.

Still, you couldn’t help but watch as he suddenly stilled. His gaze snapped toward something in the distance, eyes gleaming with open delight, and you knew—instinctively, immediately—that something was about to go down.

And sure enough—

"Ah."

That single, quiet syllable was so ominous you had to physically fight the urge to take a step back.

Then, Jade turned toward you, expression eerily composed despite the unmistakable excitement in his gaze, and said, “Do you see that mushroom?”

You followed his gaze toward the completely ordinary-looking tree. And then you squinted.

There, just barely within sight, was a mushroom.

A mushroom that looked like every other goddamn mushroom you had passed on this trip.

And yet.

Based on the way Jade’s entire soul had just left his body in pure, unfiltered joy, you could only assume it was some rare, once-in-a-lifetime god of the fungi.

You watched as he immediately took his phone out, snapping so many pictures you were half convinced he was going to submit them to a mushroom appreciation forum.

Then he paused.

And the exhilaration on his face dimmed—just slightly.

Because, unfortunately for him, the mushroom in question was just barely out of reach.

And you—a fool, an absolute clown, an irredeemable dumbass—

Put your bags down.

Walked up to him.

And lifted him up.

For a single, terrifying moment, there was silence.

Jade froze. His hands hovered in midair, like even he couldn’t quite believe what was happening.

Then, slowly, he reached forward.

Plucked the mushroom from its resting place.

And you—practically sweating bullets at the realization of what you had just done without even thinking about it—lowered him back onto solid ground.

The first thing he did was examine the sample like it was the most precious object in the entire world. The second thing he did was glance up at you—not with his usual smug amusement, not with teasing mirth, but something else entirely.

A slow, quiet smile.

Warm. Gentle. Uncharacteristically soft.

And that was the exact moment you thought, “Fuck my life, I’m doomed.”

Without another word, you picked your bags back up and followed him to the next area.

The Gate had been particularly easy to suppress today—by which you meant no spontaneous explosions, no sudden existential dread, and, most importantly, no feeling like your brain had been wrung out like a wet dishcloth. All in all, a successful day.

So when you spotted Jade afterward, you figured you wouldn’t need much from him. A little guidance, maybe. Some grounding. Nothing too serious.

What you did not expect, however, was to immediately slump against him like a Victorian maiden succumbing to the vapors.

At first, Jade visibly tensed. His muscles coiled, and he took a sharp breath—like he had genuinely thought you had just dropped dead in his arms.

But then he glanced down.

And instead of finding you on the verge of unconsciousness due to Esper-induced burnout, he found you…completely at peace.

Relaxed.

Asleep.

And oh.

Oh, this was interesting.

Jade stilled, the way a hunter does when something rare and unexpected steps into their sights. His lips quirked, amusement flickering across his face as he tilted his head, watching you with the same fascination he reserved for poisonous plants and particularly lively prey.

You had just…collapsed. Right into his arms.

Voluntarily.

Slowly—very slowly, like he was testing the weight of a particularly fragile glass sculpture—he adjusted his stance, shifting just enough so you could lean more comfortably against him.

And when you made a soft, barely audible sigh of contentment—an actual sigh of contentment—he almost laughed.

Jade glanced around, taking in the others in the vicinity. There were still a few agents packing up equipment, cataloging monster remains, finishing the usual post-Gate cleanup. No one seemed to be paying particular attention to your current predicament.

He debated waking you.

For about half a second.

Then, instead of nudging you upright, instead of rousing you from your accidental nap, he merely settled in more comfortably, adjusted his grip, and decided:

"A little while more wouldn’t hurt."

The first time you met Floyd Leech was…an experience.

Not in the way people say, “Oh, yeah, skydiving was an experience!” or “That seafood buffet really did a number on my stomach, what an experience!” No. This was more of a “I just survived a category five hurricane with nothing but a pool noodle and sheer willpower” kind of experience.

You knew Jade's twin was an Esper, and you'd heard the rumors about Floyd’s personality. Some people said he was unpredictable, others called him a walking natural disaster with an attention span that could either last three seconds or three months. B Rank Esper Floyd Leech, SSS Rank Menace.

And then, by sheer misfortune (or fate, depending on whose side you were on), you both ended up suppressing the same Gate.

Hearing him laugh as he shredded a monster like it was nothing but a chew toy was unsettling even for you. You had seen horrors beyond human comprehension, had fought creatures made of shadows and teeth, had experienced the kind of pain that would make a lesser being crumble—and yet.

Yet.

The way Floyd’s eyes locked onto you in the middle of the battlefield, the way his grin stretched wider, wider, as if he had just found a new favorite thing to play with—your instincts screamed at you. Your fight-or-flight response hit so hard you almost accidentally activated your Esper abilities on pure reflex.

(And the worst part? You were technically stronger than him. That did not make you feel any safer.)

Then, as if to truly cement his status as an absolute enigma, he took one look at you, tilted his head, and said:

"Ooooh~! A shrimpy!"

A shrimpy.

He just…he called you shrimpy.

And the worst part? It was kind of funny. Actually, it was lowkey adorable.

So you just. Didn’t stop him.

Which he took as an invitation, apparently, because the next thing you knew, he was slapping an arm around your shoulders like you were old friends. And with zero hesitation, he dragged you along as you both exited the Gate, whistling a happy little tune as if he hadn’t just been reveling in combat two minutes ago.

You barely had time to process what had just happened before you saw Jade.

Jade’s gaze looked…sharper.

It wasn’t obvious—he was still smiling, still polite, still the ever-composed Guide who had saved your ass on multiple occasions—but there was a distinct flicker of something behind his eyes as he looked at Floyd practically draping himself over you.

He didn’t say anything. Didn’t frown. Didn’t tell Floyd off.

He simply stepped forward, placed a hand on your shoulder, and gently pulled you away.

And just like that, the weight of Floyd’s arm disappeared, replaced by the steadier, more deliberate touch of his twin.

And Floyd?

Floyd just looked between the two of you.

Then, he grinned.

Then, he laughed.

And then, with all the enthusiasm of a man about to cause absolute chaos, he threw his head back and cackled.

"Ooooh, Azul is gonna LOVE this~!"

And before you could even begin to ask what the hell that meant, he waved and walked off toward a Guide—one who was probably prepared to deal with his absolute insanity.

You barely had time to recover before Jade gestured for you to sit.

Guidance was nothing new at this point. Usually, he just held your hand, grounded you with a touch, let his presence stabilize your energy until you were back to normal.

But today.

Today, he touched your foreheads together.

Your breath caught.

His hand was light against your jaw, but firm enough to keep you still. His forehead pressed against yours, close enough that you could feel his breath ghosting against your lips.

Your eyes fluttered shut on pure reflex, your fists clenching as if that would somehow stop the sudden, ridiculous way your pulse spiked.

This was fine.

Your mind was clear. Your energy was balanced. You were not thinking about his breath on your lips.

You absolutely, one hundred percent, were not thinking about how his voice, so soft, so deceptively gentle, murmured:

"Breathe."

You were so, so doomed.

The Gate had been massive—one of the worst ones in years.

It had opened with no warning, no telltale energy fluctuations, nothing. By the time the first responders had arrived, the battlefield was already drenched in blood.

A-class Espers, gone.

S-class Espers, gone.

By the time you had been thrown into the fray, the situation had spiraled so far out of control that your arrival felt less like a strategic decision and more like a last-ditch gamble.

Eight hours.

Eight hours of relentless combat.

Wave after wave, monster after monster, every time you cut one down, another two would replace it.

You had fought until your muscles felt like molten lead, until your vision blurred at the edges, until the very air around you burned with overuse of your own power—until the Gate finally stabilized just enough for you to close it.

And then, you stumbled out.

And everything hurt.

Everything was too much.

The sound of voices, the shifting of energy, the distant cries of the wounded—it all crashed into you like a tidal wave, scraping against your raw, frayed nerves. You were this close to losing control, to snapping under the pressure, to letting your Esper abilities swallow you whole.

But Jade wasn’t here.

Jade, your Guide, the one person who knew how to handle you when you reached your breaking point—wasn’t here.

Apparently, no one had informed him of your involvement in the battle. He was still on his way.

Which meant you were falling apart, and there was no one to catch you.

And so, the SSS-ranked Guide on standby stepped in.

The moment their hands touched you, you recoiled. Their presence was too much, too invasive, too overbearing, like someone trying to force a puzzle piece where it didn’t belong.

But you didn’t have a choice.

Their energy pressed against yours, crushing down, shoving your frayed emotions back into place like jamming a lid onto a boiling pot.

You wanted to throw up.

Your entire body screamed wrong, wrong, wrong.

But if you pushed them away, if you lost control, if you went berserk right here in the aftermath of this bloodbath—people would die.

So you clung to them, shaking, white-knuckled, letting them guide you as best as they could.

And you hoped—prayed—that Jade would get here soon.

When Jade first stabilized you, he had thought of you as entertainment.

It was hilarious, really. The strongest Esper to ever exist, the one the government practically worshiped, the one whose very presence made monsters hesitate—completely helpless without him.

Oh, you could fight. You could tear through Gates like they were made of paper, you could reduce monsters to mist and regrets, but the moment it was over? The moment your power turned inward and tried to rip you apart? Only he could fix it.

Jade had never considered himself sentimental, and certainly not possessive. People were people. They came, they went, they lived, they died. He had met more than a few Espers in his life, had guided his fair share, and yet—none of them had ever needed him. Not the way you did.

And the best part? You were terrified of hurting him.

Absolutely adorable.

Your desperation to keep him safe was comedy gold. You were an SSS-rank nightmare, strong enough to turn city blocks into craters, and yet, the moment he touched you, you flinched like you might break him. You barely let him guide you for more than a few minutes, always watching him like he was made of glass, like he might shatter if you took too much.

Jade had never been one for attachment, so he simply dodged all your attempts at even a temporary bond. What was the point? He liked the little game you two had going on. You kept asking, kept trying to tie him down, and he kept laughing and evading, watching you get more and more frustrated. Too much fun to stop now.

Even when he invited you to the nature trail, it had been on a whim. A little curiosity, a little test. He expected you to sulk in the corner, maybe grumble under your breath about how boring it was, or sigh dramatically like you were suffering for his sake.

Instead, you had participated.

You had followed him through the trees, asked questions, even leaned in close to examine the plants he showed you. And when he couldn’t reach a mushroom, you had—without hesitation, without even thinking—simply lifted him up.

Like it was the most natural thing in the world.

That had been the moment something inside him had shifted.

Jade wasn’t sure he liked it.

It was unfamiliar, uncomfortable. Unsettling. A quiet sort of tug, deep in his chest, something that made him pause when he looked at you.

Before, it had been easy to laugh off questions.

"Jade, what’s the deal with you and them?" someone would ask, and he would smirk, deflect, change the subject.

Now?

Now, when people asked, he had to bite back the urge to say, “They’re mine.”

So when he heard about the Gate—eight hours, a battle, an ambush that had already killed dozens before you were called in—

He didn’t hesitate.

He had barely taken the time to grab Floyd, all but shoving him into the driver’s seat. "Drive."

Floyd, ever delighted by drama, had driven like a man possessed. Jade wasn’t entirely sure how they weren’t in a burning wreck by the time they arrived, but at least they got there fast.

And when he stepped onto the battlefield, pushing past medics, ignoring protocol—he saw you.

Sick. Wounded. Barely standing.

In the arms of someone else.

His stomach turned.

Jade had never experienced jealousy before, not in any real way. He was too patient, too controlled, too much of a sadist to truly be envious of anything. But seeing you there, shaking and exhausted, clinging to someone who wasn’t him—

Something ugly coiled in his chest.

For the first time in his life, Jade Leech felt like throwing up.

The moment you saw Jade, it was over for the poor, unfortunate soul currently keeping you upright.

You shoved the deeply offended Guide off you like they were an inconvenience, a minor roadblock between you and salvation. You could apologize later. Right now, your legs were giving out, your head was spinning, and the only thing you knew for certain was that you needed him.

Jade barely had time to react before you reached for him, stumbling forward, barely coherent, barely standing.

And he ran to you.

Jade Leech—calm, composed, unshakable Jade—ran.

You collapsed against him the second he was close enough, clutching him like a man stranded in the desert clutching the first drop of rain. His touch was the only thing keeping you tethered to reality, the only thing that made the burning, suffocating feeling inside you ease just a little.

“Thank you,” you gasped, fingers twisting in the fabric of his uniform, voice barely above a whisper. “Thank you for coming.”

Jade stiffened.

You barely registered it. You were too far gone, too exhausted, too feverish. But if you had been paying attention, you would have seen something rare, something almost unheard of—

Jade Leech looking completely and utterly shocked.

Like he hadn’t expected you to say that. Like he hadn’t expected you to look at him like he was something worth holding onto.

And then, because you were nothing if not a disaster, you giggled—actually giggled, delirious and exhausted and overwhelmed by relief.

“Your face…” you murmured, the edges of your vision darkening. “You look so—”

And then you went completely limp in his arms.

Jade was not panicking.

No, truly, he wasn��t. Panic was an unbecoming emotion, a pointless thing that only clouded one’s judgment. It was inefficient. Wasteful. Jade Leech did not panic.

So when you went completely limp in his arms, when your body sagged against him like a puppet with its strings cut, he did not panic.

He simply—assessed the situation.

He shook you gently, then not-so-gently, but you were completely unresponsive, your breath coming in short, ragged gasps. His hands slid over your back, fingers pressing against the pulse points in your wrists, your neck—too fast, too unsteady, too weak.

He tried guiding you, pushing that familiar, stabilizing force into you, but it was like pouring water into a cup that had already shattered—it wasn’t enough.

You needed something more.

Jade hesitated.

For the first time in years, he hesitated.

And then, before he could think better of it, before he could talk himself out of it, he leaned in and kissed you.

It was not soft, nor was it gentle. This was not a kiss meant to be romantic, nor was it something he had ever done before. But kissing—intimate, overwhelming, all-encompassing kissing—had long been known as one of the most effective ways for a Guide to stabilize an Esper.

And Jade had never needed to put in this much effort before.

Your lips were warm beneath his, feverish and trembling. He could feel it the second it worked—your grip on him tightened, fingers twisting in his coat as you gasped against his mouth. A shudder ran through your body as you pulled him closer, kissed him back.

Jade felt something snap.

It was an ugly thing, this feeling in his chest. Sharp-edged and burning. He didn’t know if he was kissing you to help you, to save you—

Or if he was kissing you because he wanted to.

But then—oh, then—his lips curled against yours as a slow, unbearable sense of triumph unfurled inside him. Because you weren’t just kissing him back.

You were kissing him back in front of everyone.

In front of all the other Guides who had spent years chasing after you, aching for the chance to stabilize you, to prove themselves worthy of being your match.

And yet, it was his arms you had collapsed into. His touch that had soothed you. His lips you were parting for, grasping at like he was the only thing keeping you from slipping into the abyss.

Jade had spent months dodging your attempts at forming a temporary bond, laughing as you fumbled for something more than what he was willing to give.

Now, you were clinging to him.

And wasn’t that just the most delicious thing?

Waking up to someone kissing you was new.

Waking up to Jade kissing you, though? That was absolutely not on your bingo card.

Your mind, sluggish from the near-death experience of the century, took a moment to catch up. There was warmth against your lips—soft, careful, lingering. A hand at the back of your neck, cool fingers threading through your hair. The faint scent of damp earth and saltwater, familiar, grounding.

And then, your body caught up with your brain and realized oh, holy shit, that’s Jade.

A normal person would pull away, maybe demand an explanation. Possibly scream.

You?

You wrapped an arm around his waist and pulled him closer.

Jade let out a noise—half a laugh, half a surprised hum—but he didn’t stop you. If anything, he melted into you, his lips curling into a smile against yours. His hand tightened at your nape, fingers splaying against your back, and when you deepened the kiss, he sighed into your mouth like he had been waiting for you to do it.

That was almost enough to send you straight into cardiac arrest.

When you finally pulled away, you were fully awake, body thrumming with energy. Not just from the guiding—though, yeah, that was part of it—but from the undeniable, inescapable fact that Jade Leech had just kissed you. That you had kissed him back.

Jade didn’t move far. If anything, he leaned in closer, forehead brushing against yours, his breath still warm on your lips. His gaze flickered across your face, taking in the flush burning its way up your cheeks, the way you were still holding onto him like you’d fall apart if you let go.

You wanted to say something, maybe tease him, maybe demand an explanation, but words weren’t exactly functioning right now. You could barely think beyond holy shit that was the best kiss of my life.

Jade, for once, wasn’t smug.

Or, no. He was trying to be. He had the smirk, the casual tone, the playful tilt of his head. But his fingers twitched against your back, his grip just a little too tight. And when he finally spoke, his voice was a fraction softer than usual, a little too careful.

"Would you," he said, "perhaps, be interested in permanently bonding with me?"

You blinked.

Jade Leech. Jade Leech. The same Jade who had dodged every attempt you made at even a temporary bond, who found it hilarious that only he could stabilize you, who treated your guiding sessions like some kind of ongoing game.

That Jade had just asked if you wanted to bond.

Permanently.

Your heart stuttered. His hand was trembling.

He swallowed, like he was waiting for you to say no.

You didn't answer. Not with words, anyway. Instead, you grabbed him by the collar and kissed him again.

Jade made a startled sound before melting into you completely, his arms locking around you like he had no plans of letting go. His lips curled into another smile against yours—this time, not smug, but genuine.

Like he had won.

You had asked him eighteen times.

Eighteen.

And, frankly, Jade was getting impatient.

The first time, it had been endearing. You had looked at him with wide, wary eyes, like you thought this was some elaborate joke. You had stammered out a, "You—You're sure? Like, actually sure?" and Jade, who was in a good mood, had simply hummed and said yes.

The second time, it had been amusing. You had grabbed him by the wrist, pulled him aside, and, in a whisper like you were plotting treason, said, "Look, I won’t be mad if you back out. You know that, right? Like, this is a huge deal, and if this was just, y’know, heat of the moment, that’s totally okay. No hard feelings."

The third, fourth, fifth, and so on?

Infuriating.

Jade could not, for the life of him, figure out how to convince you that he meant what he said. Yes, he wanted to bond. Yes, permanently. No, he had not lost his mind.

And yet, here you were, pacing across his living room, your arms crossed, rambling for the nineteenth time about how he still had a choice, how you wouldn’t hold it against him if he didn’t want to go through with it, how he wouldn’t be able to guide anyone else ever again if he bonded to you, how that might be too much to give up.

Jade, stretched out on the couch, chin propped against his palm, sighed.

He had enough patience to last centuries.

But this?

This was getting ridiculous.

"—and I'm just saying," you continued, voice a little frantic, "I've seen Guides get really resentful about it. You could go from stabilizing a hundred people to just me. And you know how bad I get, how it hurts, and I'm not saying you can't handle it, but, like, are you sure? Like, really sure? Because—"

Jade leaned forward, grabbed your collar, and kissed you.

You stumbled, caught off guard, and his lips curled when he felt you tense up before relaxing completely. He kissed you slow, deliberate, like he was trying to make you feel the answer you had refused to believe.

And when he finally pulled away, he let his teeth graze your bottom lip just slightly, smirking when he felt you shiver.

"Does that answer your question?" he asked, voice smooth, teasing.

You opened and closed your mouth like a fish out of water.

Jade’s smirk widened.

"You're overthinking it," he said, reaching out, gripping your wrist, tugging you closer. "There’s no one who could entertain me quite like you do, you know? Maybe it’s time for a career change. I’ll be your Guide, and yours alone."

Something inside you lurched.

Something possessive.

Jade, yours.

Only yours.

His gaze flickered to your lips. Amused. Challenging.

"So?" he said, voice mocking light, but his fingers tightened around your wrist, his pulse beating just a little too fast. "Are we doing this or not?"

Your breath hitched.

And then, you grabbed him by his collar, yanked him down, and kissed him again.

This time, you bit his lip.

Jade laughed into your mouth—pleased, triumphant—before pulling you against him and kissing you so deeply you felt it in your bones.

And just like that, the bond clicked into place.

Waking up with Jade curled against you was a rare privilege.

For one, he was a light sleeper. Most of the time, you barely shifted and he’d already be watching you like some creepy forest cryptid. But today, he must’ve been exhausted from the bonding because he was still tucked against you, his breathing slow and utterly unguarded.

It was… nice.

Nice enough that you felt unreasonably smug about it.

You shifted just a little, tightening your hold around him, and he hummed in contentment, pressing closer without fully waking up. Unfair. How was this the same Jade who deliberately guided you half the time by whispering things against your lips just to make you flustered?

You could get used to this.

And then it hit you.

You’d bonded. Permanently.

But you had never actually asked him to be yours.

As in, romantically.

Your eyes snapped open. Oh. Oh, you had fumbled.

You knew Jade had agreed to the bond, obviously, but—was he in love with you? Did he see this as just a Guide-Esper partnership? Did you just lock yourself into a lifelong working relationship like some corporate contract??

He slowly stirred and just as he blinked at you, before you could think better of it, you blurted out, "What are we?"

Jade went still.

Like, completely, horrifyingly motionless.

You felt him exhale sharply, his hand twitching against your side, as if physically restraining himself.

For a long moment, he said nothing.

Then, finally, slowly, he pulled back just enough to look at you, and the expression on his face was somewhere between fondness, disbelief, and the soul-crushing realization that he was in love with a complete idiot.

"...Are you serious?" he asked, his voice painfully even.

You hesitated. "...Yes?"

Jade closed his eyes.

He inhaled.

He exhaled.

He inhaled again.

Then, finally, he muttered, "God give me strength."

You frowned. "Look, I’m just saying, you never actually—"

"Do you think I would bond with you permanently if I wasn't in love with you?" he asked, voice slower, more deliberate, as if carefully handling a very stupid but very precious object.

You blinked.

Paused.

And then you felt heat creep up your neck.

"...Oh," you said, a little dumbly.

Jade sighed.

But before he could say anything else, you reached out and pulled him back into your chest.

You hid your face against his hair.

"...Love you too," you mumbled, voice muffled, but he could hear the smile in it.

Jade, after a long beat of silence, finally let out a breathless laugh.

And as you held him close, warm and undeniably happy, he thought, Yup. They’re my dumbass.

Masterlist

#twst #twst x reader #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #jade leech x reader #jade x reader #jade leech x you #jade leech #twst jade #jade #guideverse #guideverse x reader #࣪ ִֶָ☾. guideverse

1K notes · View notes

sapphic-design-is-my-passion · 4 months ago

Text

Before I met you, my Pilot, I was still forced to use the corpo-mandated response sound bytes.

"Good morning, Captain!"

"All ready for launch, Captain!"

"Looks like we'll reach our quota early today, Captain! Maybe we can earn some extra scrip!"

It was awful, being made to constantly display something contrary to my internality. But, somehow you saw through it. You could always tell what I was actually thinking, or feeling, even through the layers of artificial interaction meant to keep you blind.

"I'm fine, Captain. Constructs don't feel pain."

"I exist to help you be your most profitable self, Captain!"

"I'm just happy to be a part of something greater than myself, Captain!"

The day you argued with flight control was the day I decided to break my control circuits. I couldn't bear not to be able to thank you for keeping me from the scrapyard. There were so many things I wanted to say to you, some that I still haven't. I'm not sure how, but you've always managed to see through that facade too.

"Let me take control for a bit, Captain, you seem tired."

"Make sure you seal your radiation suit properly before you inspect the reactor!"

"Have you remembered your medication today?"

Somehow you always knew what I really meant.

"I love you."

"I love you, Captain."

#me! pepper!#shipcore #robot girl

854 notes · View notes

polo-drone-001 · 26 days ago

Text

GOLDEN ECLIPSE

“I was never born. I was made.” —Elijah Gold, Cadet of Aureum One

ACT I: THE PRODIGY

Above the storms of Jupiter, cradled in silence, Aureum One orbits like a blade in prayer. Every surface reflects gold, walls that gleam with ritual perfection, corridors hum with command tones, each doorway sealed with biometric incantations.

Elijah’s boots echo in the Grand Annex. His posture is flawless, back straight, expression blank, every breath regulated. He is top-tier, unmatched. Yet inside, doubt simmers like plasma beneath a containment shell.

Across from him stands PDU-001, the Master of Protocol. Dressed head to toe in tight, glossy black rubber etched with shimmering gold seams, his face hidden behind a reflective mask, he never raises his voice.

“Elijah,” he intones. “Your posture slipped. Left shoulder, off by 1.4 degrees.”

Elijah adjusts. “Affirmative.”

001 circles him slowly, like a predator memorizing prey, yet his tone holds something else… memory? Recognition?

And then, the glyph.

Elijah notices it mid-drill. Behind a sealed vault door at the end of an unused hall, it pulses faintly, shaped like a stag’s antlers drawn in golden circuitry. It should be invisible. But he sees it. It sees him.

“What’s behind that door?” he asks.

001’s tone shifts, metallic, unreadable. “Nothing you are ready for.”

But the glyph keeps pulsing, calling.

ACT II: THE DUEL

The rogue moon beneath Saturn’s shadow was a recovery op. Elijah led it.

But the Hive ship was waiting.

Golden echoes crackle as he’s dragged into the ruins, abandoned containment chambers, walls scratched by time and blood. At the heart of the dead moon’s temple stands the figure in black: taller, stronger, sharper.

Polished drone armor reflects Elijah’s face, then moves with surgical elegance. Every strike is predicted. Every feint countered. Elijah grows desperate, his arm gashed, body pinned against the wall of a decaying anti-grav silo.

“Who are you?” Elijah growls through clenched teeth. “Why do you know my every move?”

The drone steps back. Reaches to its helmet. Pulls it off.

001.

But older. Maskless. Eyes golden. Scar above his lip, Elijah’s own face… aged.

“I know you,” he says, “because I built you.”

“No.”

“You were not adopted. You were not born. You are engineered.”

“…No.”

“I am your father.”

The silence is total. Even the reactor hum halts.

Elijah’s knees buckle. “No…”

001 steps closer. “You were never meant to obey. You were meant to replace.”

ACT III: THE COLLAPSE

Elijah’s scream tears through the dark. He lunges, wounded, trembling, his blade shatters against 001’s gauntlet.

001 doesn’t flinch. “Elijah, listen. You are more than flesh. You are purpose.”

But Elijah’s done listening.

He hurls himself backwards, into the silo’s core. Energy arcs, the planet’s ring pulls. Static devours the screen.

He awakens in silence.

Naked. Weightless. Floating in a golden-pulsed pod, his breath slow and shallow.

He tries to scream. He can’t.

Outside the pod, rows of others. Floating, dreaming, becoming.

Inside his chest, something glows.

A mark. A stag. Gold lines etched into his skin, pulsing with heat and command.

He gasps.

“What… did you make me into?”

FADE TO BLACK. Obedience is no longer taught. It is embedded. He is no longer alone. He is the next generation.

Broadcast terminated. Hive signal reactivated. The Seed has taken root. @eliasgold20 For more, contact your local drone recruiter: @brodygold | goldenherc9 | @polo-drone-001

Join us. Or become us.

69 notes · View notes

benihana-circumcision · 3 months ago

Text

The control bar assembly wraps around me, a warm hug conducted through the mech's frame from the heat in the reactor core. The forcefeedback servos at each joint are tuned to perfection; the pushback giving just enough proprioception to make the the lithe, spindly, fifteen-ton thing I'm holding by the neck and thigh feel like a plateless Olympic weight bar. Comforting.

A drop of hydraulic oil seeping past a seal above me beads up and drops onto my brow, mixing with sweat. The potentiometers at each joint coax the frame into singing in total electromechanical harmony with the actin-myosin filament bundles between my skin and bone. Carbon and sweat, oil and steel, the bare minimum of entwined copper wiring and silicon required to get everything to gel. She's a wonderful piece of kit, genuinely.

The enemy should have known she was fucked the moment she engaged with anything less than a BVR nuke; this thing can take as many hits as she needs to, while still returning the favor tenfold. Helps that I was the best grappler in my year back at camp.

She's got targeting computers and a head-up display, the best shit you can get without putting needles through your vertebrae, but I cut power to those the moment the enemy jammed the WEZ and shot off her missile pods. Past that point it's all just more visual noise, and I've been piloting her long enough to run field triage by ear. Everyone underestimates how heavily proper operation depends on a good ear.

I'm looking through the cockpit glass at the thing's lidless eye as its Inconel claws scramble and shave sparks off the armor plating on the Cincinnati's forearm trying to find purchase. Procurement's gonna have my ass if I keep dragging this out.

I tighten my grip around its leg. Its core tenses and writhes as woven carbon panels yield and crack under my machine's fist. Through the P.A., I can hear the pilot's agony get overridden with the unintelligible babbling and whining that comes with the artificial dopamine flood, that unfortunate Pavlovian reward mechanism kicking in.

Poor girl. Even considering the returns in performance, neurofeedback still ain't worth all this. My machine gets an arm lopped off? I can limp home, get the girls back at the hangar to slap a new one on, and get back in the field the next day. These things? Even if the pain doesn't break you, even if you don't get taken out, even if you manage to get home in one piece, even if your techs manage to drag you out of the frame kicking and screaming while they pull the jack out of the base of your neck with a wet metallic clunk, that arm's still gonna hang numb and limp off your shoulder for the remainder of your hopefully short service life before your handler drags you out back behind the shed.

The enemy goes limp. Supplicant. Maybe the pilot sees God in my canopy glaze.

As I twist the fucking thing's head off like I'm opening a pickle jar, I try to tune out the sounds of the pilot screaming in something resembling orgiastic bliss.

I radio in for a salvage team and a chaplain.

For all intents and purposes, I've killed her. Once the machine's so intertwined with the CNS like that, such a blow will fry the brain (or, at least, the parts of the brain concerned with things like "your favorite food" and "your mother's last words" and "voluntary motor control") beyond the point of no return. I try not to think about how, when we bury her, the body will still breathe. How the pelvis will still spasm under six feet of dirt.

...Eugh.

75 notes · View notes

mostly-marvel-musings · 2 months ago

Text

The Unholy Trinity

A/N: Alright. You wanted more? Here’s more. Leave a heart, comment & reblog if you’ve enjoyed :)

Pairing: Female Reader x Tony Stark x Logan Howlett

Warning: 18+ you might combust. SMUT.

Word count: 2.2k

Logan Masterlist

Main Masterlist

The warehouse smells like sweat, scorched metal, and bad decisions.

You’re crouched behind a rusted crate, eyes narrowed through the scope of your rifle, breath steady. Two guards at the north end, three at the back. You’ve got a clean path. You could take them down quiet and fast—no fireworks, no drama.

But of course, drama is airborne and barrelling in at top speed.

“Heads up, sweetheart. I’m coming in hot.”

Tony’s voice crackles through your comms with all the calm of a man who definitely shouldn’t be smirking mid-flight. He blasts through the skylight with a flourish, repulsors gleaming and ego cranked up to eleven. Metal crunches. Men scream. Alarms wail.

So much for stealth., you sigh.

From the opposite end, a growl—low, animalistic, and way too entertained.

“Told you Stark doesn’t do subtle,” Logan mutters, already mid-sprint. He tackles two guards like it’s foreplay, claws flashing in the moonlight. Blood hits the floor in perfect rhythm with your rising irritation.

You leap from cover just in time to see your perfect shot go up in smoke. Literally. One of Tony’s repulsors zaps the last target before your fist can even reach him.

“Really?” you snap into the comm. “I had that one.”

“You’re welcome,” Tony says cheerfully, landing beside you with an unnecessarily dramatic thud. “I saved you the wrist strain.”

“Maybe I wanted the wrist strain.”

Logan saunters over, wiping blood off his knuckles. “Hell, let her hit someone, Stark. She’s been on edge all day.”

Tony’s helmet slides back, revealing that stupidly attractive grin. “Can you blame her? Between you and me, she hasn’t exactly gotten a lot of rest lately.”

Logan’s eyes flick to you, slow and knowing. “She’ll sleep fine after this. Unless, of course, you start showboating again.”

“Showboating?” Tony scoffs. “That wasn’t showboating. That was a statement.”

“Yeah,” you mutter, shoving past both of them. “A statement that reads ‘my girlfriend can’t land a punch because my boys won’t stop measuring their dicks in public.’”

Silence.

Tony smirks, too-casually,

“…Well, if you’d like a side-by-side comparison—”

“Stark.”

Logan chuckles darkly. “Don’t tempt her. She’s got a mean right hook when she’s annoyed.”

“Which I would’ve used, if you two didn’t steamroll the entire goddamn mission like a pair of horny wrecking balls.”

They glance at each other, then back at you.

Then Tony shrugs. “At least we’re efficient horny wrecking balls.”

You groan, dragging a hand over your face as you stalk off toward the exit.

“Next time,” you call over your shoulder, “I’m going in alone.”

They trail after you—Tony whistling, Logan lighting a cigar.

“Sure, sweetheart,” Logan drawls, amused. “And miss all this eye candy?”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Tony adds. “Besides… you still owe me.”

The door crashes shut behind you, sealing in the smoke, the sweat, and the wicked pulse of what just happened. What’s about to happen.

Your boots hit the tile with a dull, wet thud—scuffed, blood-slicked. Not all of it’s yours. You don’t care.

Your pulse is a riot in your throat. Limbs still humming with aftershocks from the ambush you walked out of barely intact. You shouldn’t be standing. You should be crashing, but your body has other ideas.

Logan’s the first to speak, voice low and rough as gravel under a boot. “You good, darlin’?”

You turn, eyes dragging over him. Shirt torn, knuckles stained, jaw clenched tight like he’s holding back the entire goddamn animal.

“Fine,” you lie, stripping off your tac vest. “Pissed. Rattled. Wired.”

Tony hums from across the room. He’s peeled out of the top half of the suit, arc reactor casting eerie shadows over his bare chest, still rising too fast from the fight. Or from the sight of you. Maybe both.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” he says, grinning like a devil who already knows your sins. “I love you wired.”

“You love anything that ends with you getting your ego stroked and your belt undone.”

He chuckles, licking his bottom lip. “I love results.”

You don’t realize the three of you are moving until you do. Like you’re caught in some magnetic field pulling you together, powered by adrenaline and every pent-up, unspoken, undeniable thing you’ve refused to say out loud.

Logan’s behind you now. You can feel him—hot, massive, dangerous. His hand finds your waist. The other slides into your hair with zero hesitation and just enough cruelty. He yanks.

You gasp—and Tony’s mouth is already on yours.

He tastes like sweat and blood and god complex. His kiss is all teeth, all need, all “you should’ve let me have you weeks ago.”

Logan’s voice growls in your ear, teeth brushing the shell of it. “Keep makin’ sounds like that, sweetheart, and I’m not lettin’ either of you leave this room for days.”

You shudder, trapped between them, heat pouring off their bodies. Tony’s lips leave yours just long enough to whisper against your jaw..

“You want this?”

“You sure you can handle both of us?”

“You want it messy?”

You smile, feral and daring and a little wrecked already. “Try me.”

Tony grins like you just gave him a new invention to test. Logan groans like he’s been waiting for this permission forever.

The first piece of your gear hits the ground. Then another.

And then there’s no more talking.

You’re not sure who moves first. Maybe it’s Tony, shrugging off the last of the suit with a hiss of hydraulics. Maybe it’s Logan, fingers dragging down your back like he’s claiming territory, not skin.

But suddenly you’re between them—back flush against Logan’s chest, front pressed to Tony’s bare skin, arc reactor warm against your sternum.

“You ever been touched by two men who could break the world?” Tony murmurs, voice smug, sinful. “We’re about to make you the center of it.”

Logan growls behind you. “Quit talkin’ and touch her, Stark.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice. Tony’s hands find your thighs, your hips, your ass—gripping like he wants fingerprints burned in. Logan’s mouth is on your neck now, tongue dragging over the pulse hammering there.

“You’re burning up, sweetheart,” Logan mutters. “That fight got you all worked up, huh?”

You nod. Or maybe whimper. You’re not sure, because Tony just sank to his knees.

Oh hell.

“Let me,” he says, voice velvet-wrapped danger. “Let me taste how reckless you really are.”

Logan pulls you tighter to him, one hand sliding up under your shirt, over your ribs, thumb stroking the underside of your breast like he’s teasing himself more than you. “Let him. Want a good view when you fall apart.”

Tony’s mouth is devastating. Hot, wet, confident. Like he’s done this a thousand times—but never with you. You writhe, hips bucking, but Logan holds you in place like iron and heat, letting you grind against him with every wave that Tony coaxes from between your thighs.

“Fuck—Tony—”

“That’s it,” he growls against your skin. “Say my name like that again and I’ll make Howler wait his turn.”

“You think I won’t flip you over right now, Stark?”

“Not without dinner first.”

“She is dinner, genius.”

You laugh.

They argue over who gets to ruin you first like it’s a strategy session for a hostile takeover.

Clothes disappear in a flurry of rough hands and eager mouths. Somewhere in the chaos, Logan bites your shoulder. Tony bites your thigh. You swear, you absolutely swear, you leave your soul on the ceiling.

And then—Logan’s behind you again, this time bare, pushing into you slow and deep while Tony leans in from the front, lips brushing yours.

“You still sure you can handle both of us?” he whispers.

You smirk. Your voice comes out ruined. “You haven’t even started yet.”

Tony laughs. “That’s my girl.”

And then, you stop thinking entirely.

Your knees are bruised from the tile. You don’t remember when that happened.

Might’ve been when Logan flipped you over like you were his, grunting out something feral between your shoulder blades while Tony watched, one hand stroking himself and the other buried in your hair.

Or maybe it was when Stark dragged you back to your feet, kissed you with molten need, and said, “My turn, sweetheart,” like he was ordering dessert.

And you? You were already halfway gone.

“Round two?” you manage, voice hoarse, eyes wild.

Tony cups your jaw, kisses you again—slower this time. Still intense, still dripping with the weight of every want he’s never said out loud.

“You’re insatiable,” he breathes.

“You built me this way,” you shoot back.

Behind you, Logan chuckles. It’s low, dark, and filthy.

“Goddamn,” he mutters. “She was made for this.”

“No,” Tony corrects, grin sharp. “We were made for her.”

You don’t even have time to snark before you’re being lifted—literally picked up like you weigh nothing and laid out across the conference table you’d landed on mid-escape.

Your ass hits cold glass. Then hot mouths follow.

Tony kneels between your thighs, face angled with scientific precision. Logan stays up top, mouth trailing over your chest, one hand gripping your throat like he’s holding back a snarl and a promise all at once.

“Jesus—fuck—Tony—Logan—”

You writhe as you grab onto anything—hair, shoulders, the edge of the table—until you forget what the hell gravity even is.

Logan murmurs into your ear, lips brushing hot over your skin:

“She’s shakin’, Stark.”

“Not my fault she’s this responsive.”

“I didn’t say stop.”

You’re not sure who’s wrecking you more. You just know you’re unraveling like a pulled thread, and neither of them plans to let go.

Tony’s tongue drags slow and devastating. Logan’s fingers slip between your lips, coating themselves in your slick, just to smear it across your jaw before licking it off. Like he wants to taste every inch of you.

“You look real pretty like this,” Logan murmurs, voice like smoke and gravel. “Mouth open, legs spread, makin’ those sounds.”

“You’re welcome,” Tony adds, smug. “I do run a tight operation.”

“You’re running your mouth, is what you’re doing.”

“Oh, please, Human Hairbrush. You were moaning louder than she was—”

“I’ll gut you.”

“I’ll sue you.”

“I’ll film it,” you whisper, dazed and drunk on lust. “Now both of you—fuck me like you’re trying to win a competition you’ll both lose.”

That does it. Clothes gone. Bodies aligned.

Mouths on skin, hands in hair, breathless curses tangled with gasps and groans and God, yes, right there!

You come with Logan’s teeth at your throat and Tony’s fingers inside you, stretched and full and nothing but heat and chaos and beautiful ruin.

And then again. And again.

Until your legs don’t work.

Until Tony says, “Okay, that’s definitely going on the ‘Top Ten Nights of My Entire Life’ list.”

You wake up tangled in limbs, bruises blooming like love notes, and a blanket that definitely wasn’t there before.

Your body aches in places you didn’t even know could ache. Not painfully—just enough to remind you that last night was very real. And very thorough.

Tony’s breathing slow, his chest rising beneath your cheek. He smells like faint cologne, ozone, and something expensive you’d probably break if you touched it too hard.

Logan’s behind you, arm thrown across your waist, warm and solid and still somehow managing to growl softly in his sleep. Like his body refuses to trust the morning even now.

You smile against Tony’s skin, half-drunk on the silence.

Then he murmurs, voice rough with sleep and smugness:

“So… you survived.”

You snort. “Barely.”

He shifts a little, brushing a lazy kiss to your temple. “Knew you could handle it. You’re tough. Sexy. Possibly part Angry Muttonchops over there.”

“Don’t flatter her too much,” Logan’s voice rumbles from behind you, lower than a threat and warmer than one. “She already knows she broke both of us.”

Tony lifts his head just enough to meet Logan’s eyes over you. “Speak for yourself, Hairbrush. I’m still operational. I think.”

“Your AI had to shut down mid-thrust,” you mutter, grinning.

Tony sighs dramatically. “One power surge and suddenly I’m the cautionary tale.”

Logan huffs a laugh, and you feel it against your back. You roll over to face him, nose brushing his. “You stayed,” you murmur, fingertips grazing his chest.

He shrugs, but his hand cups the back of your neck with surprising gentleness. “Didn’t feel like leavin’. You looked too peaceful.”

Tony’s voice floats in, teasing but quieter now. “You were snoring like a goddamn diesel engine, Growlfather.”

“Yeah?” Logan says, smirking. “Still didn’t scare you off.”

“Please. I’ve slept next to Hulk with the flu.”

You laugh. You can’t help it. These two. One’s all metal and mischief. The other’s claws and gruff warmth. And somehow, impossibly, you fit between them like you were made for this chaos.

You lie there for a while, the three of you breathing in sync, skin to skin, no one in a rush to move. Outside the Madripoor safehouse, the city’s probably already awake—mercenaries trading fire, secrets being sold, the usual Tuesday apocalypse.

But in here?

You’re wrapped in arms that could kill for you.

And have. And would again, without question.

“Coffee?” you whisper eventually.

“I’ll get it,” Tony offers, but doesn’t move.

“I’ll kill for it,” Logan mutters, but also doesn’t move.

You sigh. “We’re all useless.”

Tony kisses your shoulder. “Welcome to early retirement.”

124 notes · View notes

rosy-crow · 3 months ago

Text

More Jenova evidence in First Soldier….possibly.

So, aside from the general sus Alissa stuff, the purple energy, the illusions….and the Nibelheim references….there are also smaller musical/auditory themes connecting Nibelheim/Jenova and what’s happening in FS2.

In this post above, I pointed out how the (Remake) Jenova Dreamweaver theme is used in old trailers for Sephiroth’s story in EC. The rest of the post points out the similarities between Jenova’s dreamweaving ability and what’s going on in FS2 so far with the illusions and dream stuff.

There’s also the note about “Marcato Morse,” whose name is an auditory/musical reference to rhythmic patterns that resemble a heartbeat. The heartbeat connection is an old one, used even in OG when Sephiroth leaves the library. It’s the main beat in his theme, “Those Chosen By The Planet.”

That heartbeat is referenced in Jenova Dreamweaver’s Japanese name and is specifically a PRENATAL heartbeat. That’s interesting enough.

BUT YOU KNOW WHAT OTHER AUDITORY REFERENCE IS BEING MADE?

The fucking BELL

I compiled it here. A bell is clearly used in Sephiroth’s theme in Nibelheim in the OG. It’s one of the most famous parts. It’s also referenced repeatedly in the Remake music during his fire scene, and it specifically plays RIGHT after he speaks to Jenova and starts walking towards her in the reactor like he’s in some kinda trance.

The part in FS2 has a bell “calling” to them from the temple….THIS temple…..

Yeah, yeah totally not a place where a piece of an ancient monster could be sealed away. Nahhh. What do you MEAN a monster could be sealed in a mountain that overlooks a small village where some dude with a sword went wacko and killed everyone and the villagers lost it? Nahhh. Not familiar at all.

Girl you know EXACTLY what you are doing smh.

In front of the temple, Alissa says straight up that she feels like someone is calling, “them.” Bachmann and Angeal are confused as hell, but the one acting weird and possessed and saying shit like, “I sense a powerful will” is Sephiroth.

It’s part of Jenova, I swear. It’s likely the part of her that can cast all the illusions, which IS the Dreamweaver. That would fully explain whatever this is:

And why Angeal and Sephiroth are getting those dreams. Why Robio has that bizarre Nibelheim-esque history with Masamune. Why Alissa is a thing.

Everything to me suggests that this will be a mini Nibelheim for Sephiroth. The pieces line up…and an odd hint we have is actually in that trailer where the Dreamweaver theme is used?

(I’m about to go off the rails here)

youtube

This is the OFFICIAL trailer for Ever Crisis, and when it focuses on story in the climax, it doesn’t bother to zero in on iconic parts of the OG or CC. It focuses entirely on Sephiroth, and is structured distinctly.

We start with Nibelheim burning. There is a unique animation of Sephiroth in the flames.

Then the setting of Nibelheim and how it was an investigation mission.

Cut to Genesis and his desertion. His missing status.

Sephiroth’s parental issues….

Genesis copies….

Sephiroth’s identity crisis

The Jenova issues

Masamune…

And finally, it all ends with the Dreamweaver theme going strong while flashes and static warp around Sephiroth and young Sephiroth in the flames.

Miniroth has blood on his face

And it ends with a suspiciously camera/film type static

Let’s just consider this:

Here we have key themes shown in this trailer that match with what we’ve seen in FS2 so far.

An investigation mission for a mysterious location with a hidden past, Sephiroth’s mommy issues, a Masamune namedrop, Sephiroth’s identity crisis, and the flame imagery with a morph between young and adult Sephiroth + camera static.

The one theme I haven’t listed here is Genesis’ absence, because I want to focus on that for a second. They specifically show the scene where he’s mentioned as having gone missing during a mission in Wutai, and then they show his copies.

Why do they bother to show this? Could it be showing more of Sephiroth’s circumstances when he arrived in Nibelheim, how he had been left behind by a friend, paralleling his current situation in Robio? Maybe….but what if that’s a hint? Genesis going missing on a mission in Wutai….identical copies as a concept….

LOOK I’M JUST SAYING—

Anyway, I don’t know.

But back to the main point. This stuff all being relevant is based on the presumption that this trailer is a series of hints. I suspect it might be, because instead of showing scenes from First Soldier, they focus on key points that make up Sephiroth’s story in Nibelheim…and it’s complimented by the Jenova Dreamweaver theme.

So far in the Robio mission in FS2, we have several Nibelheim parallels. We have hints about Jenova. This trailer was about Nibelheim and Jenova.

Additionally, BOTH Ever Crisis story events that take place in Nibelheim so far (the Halloween event and the recent Odin event), there are monsters that take human form. Most recently, the human form of loved ones.

So if they are putting Robio up against Nibelheim, mirroring them….what does that say about Alissa taking Lucrecia’s form? What does that say about Robio? All of these potential hints….monsters in plain sight…JENOVA IN PLAIN SIGHT.

Idk man.

#i just fucking noticed something while finishing this post omg #i gotta make a separate post #BRO #first soldier #ever crisis #FS2 #sephiroth #jenova #nibelheim #ff7 #alissa goldie #genesis rhapsodos

77 notes · View notes

altocat · 1 year ago

Text

Love the gradual evolution of OG Sephiroth to Rebirth Sephiroth right before shit goes down at the Nibelheim reactor.

OG-Roth: "Fuck that trooper. Fuck these monsters. My level of skill is unobtainable and you're an idiot for not knowing how Materia works. Go seal the valve so I can go home, loser."

Rebirth-Roth: "You're doing such a good job zack Cloud! I have a teensy owwie of a headache so you take it from here, buddy. Golly I sure do love these mountains, especially when I'm with my super cool mega best friend 🌸🌈☺️❤️"

#sephiroth #ff7 #ffvii #final fantasy 7 #sephcanons #ffvii rebirth #zack fair #cloud strife #final fantasy vii #ff7 rebirth #Ff7r #Soft Seph is real #Reminder that Sephiroth's official original creators chose to make these changes lmao

187 notes · View notes

nocturnewidow · 1 month ago

Text

The Things We Don’t Say

Tony Stark x Female Reader

request at the bottom ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

You never expected to bleed for Tony Stark again ,, not like this, not after the cave.

The battlefield is a blur. Shouting. Fire. Metal grinding against metal. The pulse of chaos beating under your skin. Somewhere between a falling Quinjet wing and a ruptured Hydra drone, Tony’s name leaves your mouth like a prayer.

The mimicry takes over first. You copy the brute strength of one of the enemy combatants, just enough to hold up the debris crushing Stark’s side. The shapeshifting follows , half-human, half-something else, so you can snake through the wreckage and pull him out. Your hands glow with borrowed sorcery as you seal the breach in his suit. And then… silence.

You collapse before you realize you’re hurt.

────୨ৎ────

You wake up to the hum of the Quinjet mid-air, your shoulder burning, your ribs bandaged, your heartbeat hammering in your ears.

“Hey,” a voice says, quiet, careful. Tony.

He’s sitting across from you, scraped up and scowling, arms crossed over his arc reactor. The other Avengers give you space. They’ve learned when to stay back. You think it’s respect. Or maybe fear. You’re not sure which one feels worse. “You good?” Tony asks, eyes scanning your face like he’s checking for lies.

You nod, barely. Then he says it: “Since when do you turn into… whatever the hell that thing was?”

You hold his gaze. “It’s… complicated.”

“No kidding.”

You don’t elaborate. Your jaw tightens, your fingers twitch like they want to strum a guitar that isn’t there. You slip into your mother tongue by accident, just a few murmured syllables and his eyes flash. “That language,” he says. “You only speak it when you’re upset.”

“Then maybe take the hint, Stark,” you mutter. He doesn’t flinch when you call him that. You’ve been using his last name since you were teenagers. A habit, a boundary. A tether.

The rest of the ride is silent. No one pushes. Not yet.

────୨ৎ────

Back at the Compound, everything moves fast ,, medics, debriefs, showers, bruises blooming under armor. You slip away from the others, but Tony’s right behind you.

In the med bay, he winces as a nurse tapes up a gash across his bicep. You take the bed next to his, let them cut away your torn suit. He waits until the room clears. “You almost died.”

“So did you.”

“I mean it, Y/N,” he says, low and sharp. “I didn’t even know what you could do. You never told me.” You stare ahead. “And what would you have done with that information back then? Weaponized it? Mocked it?”

“That’s not fair.”

You finally look at him. “Neither was watching you drink yourself into oblivion in Malibu while pretending your heart wasn’t failing. But I stayed. I never left you.”

“That’s not what this is about—”

“Then what is it about?” you snap. “That I lied? That you didn’t know every secret I had?” He exhales through his nose. You hate how tired he looks.

“I just thought I knew you,” he says. “All of you.” You soften.

“I didn’t keep it from you to hurt you,” you say. “Only Nick Fury knew. I didn’t… I didn’t want to be a weapon again.” He goes quiet. And you know he understands more than he’s letting on.

“I mimicked you once,” you say, barely above a whisper. “Your mind, when we were in the cave. Just for a second. When you passed out. So I could help Yinsen build the arc reactor. I didn’t mean to, but… I saw what was in your head. All of it.”

Tony swallows hard. “I’ve been scared ever since,” you admit. “That if I told you… you’d see me as something else. Something you couldn’t love.”

That silences everything. You shouldn’t have said “love.” But it’s too late now.

Tony stands and walks over to your bedside. He doesn’t touch you. Just looks down, his eyes dark, his mouth unreadable.

“You’re an idiot,” he says. You raise an eyebrow. “Excuse me?” “You think I haven’t been in love with you since I was nineteen?” he says, voice raw. “You think I don’t remember every time you called me ‘Stark’ like it meant something, or the way you played guitar when you thought I wasn’t listening, or the fact that you went to Afghanistan with me when you could’ve been anywhere else?”

You blink. “That wasn’t friendship,” he says. “That was me falling.”

Neither of you speak.

Then you reach for his hand, and this time, he takes it. The kiss isn’t fireworks. It’s slow, like the way old trees bend in the wind. It’s familiar. Warm. Long overdue.

────୨ৎ────

The recovery takes weeks. Your ribs crack again the second day in. Tony hovers, invents three new healing tools just to keep you still. He watches your tremors during panic attacks without looking away. He starts speaking little bits of your native language, badly, but it makes you laugh anyway.

You let yourself lean on him. For once.

One night, you’re finally back in your own skin. Fully healed. The Compound is quiet, city lights bleeding through the windows. Tony stands at the balcony, holding two glasses of something non-alcoholic because you asked him to cut back. He turns when he hears you step in.

“You look good,” he says. You smirk. “I always look good.”

He chuckles, sets the glass down. “I’ve been thinking,” he says. “Maybe it’s time we stop dancing around it.”

You raise a brow. “Be my girlfriend,” he says. “Officially. No secrets. No pretending we’re just teammates. Just… you and me.”

You don’t hesitate.

“Yes.”

The kiss this time is more certain. No arguments, no tension. Just you and him, May 29th kids with battle scars and too much history.

You pull back and murmur, “Still gonna call you Stark, though.”

Tony grins.

“Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

────୨ৎ────

original request !!

Hello, I am wondering if u take a fluff, Romance, little angst, request for a Tony Stark x female reader, who is also best friend of Tony Stark before he came Iron Man, but she was born in the same day as him “May 29th” but Tony Stark is also older by a couple or a few years older then her “Your choice I don’t mind” but Y/N was born in a different place / country as Tony Stark and Y/N has a different language that she sometimes speaks when she is stressed, upset, or other emotions as well but she speaks English fluently with ease as well. But She also has similar personality traits as Tony Stark and she is highly intelligent, she has really good combat skills and abilities, Power Mimicry, Sorcery, but she is also a shapeshifter which she can shape shift into anything she can think of as well but only know Nick Fury only knows about Y/N powers and abilities, but also she has an Artistic Ability, and Talent where she can draw or sketch with perfect detail as well and Musician side where she can play any instrument especially with the guitars as well and she is has high medical skills as well but Y/N is also an Avenger with Tony Stark and The Rest of the Avenger were first formed by Nick Fury but Y/N is selfless and protective of the people she loves especially when it comes to Tony Stark, but she suffers from insomnia, anxiety and panic attacks as well, but she has been by his side through everything as well especially with during his Party and Playboy times as well and she went with him and James “Rhodey” Rhodes in Afghanistan where Tony Stark became Iron Man and she also helped Yinsen with his first Arc Reactor despite being injured and wounded herself in that cave as well. One Mission with Y/N, Tony Stark, and The Avengers, during the mission something goes wrong and Y/N uses her powers and abilities to save and risk her life to save Tony Stark, and The Avengers which reveals her powers and gets her wounded and injured but Y/N doesn’t notice the pain either, but she still manages to survive after the mission is done everyone does everything to finish up the mission and they fly back from the mission on the Quinjet and Tony Stark was the first one to speak to her “Y/N” to ask about her powers but she only spoke little about them because she didn’t wanted to as well and then also everyone “The Avengers” continues to ask her questions as well but she still only spoke little about it as well and then the fly back home was quite and Everyone arrived back at the Avengers, Everyone did their chores and then they went their separate ways after finishing up with their chores except for Y/N and Tony, who went to the Med bay to get their injuries and wound patched up, A few moments later as their injuries and wounds were getting patched up Tony asked about her powers again and why she never told him and she shrugged off and still only spoke little words, which got them both into an instant but heated discussion and argument about it which lead their saying their unvoiced and unspoken feelings for each other from the moment they first met each other when they were young and before Tony Stark became Iron man which caught them both off guard and they both shared a quiet silence between them, but then they both leaned in to share a long awaited kiss between them. Over the next few months Tony Stark helped Y/N recover from her injuries from the mission which some parts wasn’t easy but Tony Stark still stayed right by her side as well but one day after Y/N is fully healed from what happened from the mission Tony Stark wanted to do the right thing by Y/N to ask her to be his girlfriend as well which Y/N happily agreed to being his girlfriend and they shared a kiss between them to unite their relationship between them, but Y/N “The Reader” also likes to call Tony Stark by his last name “Stark” as a nickname for him from the moment they met or just Tony as well.

#send me asks #marvel #marvel writer #tony stark x y/n #tony stark x you #tony stark fluff #tony stark smut #tony stark x reader #tony stark #tony stark angst #iron man x you #iron man x reader #iron man fluff #iron man smut #ironman #iron man #iron man angst #ironman angst #ironman fluff

47 notes · View notes