#sorry i have nothing more intelligent to add at the moment

[grelleswife]

Chapter 35 vs Chapter 205: The black veil of secrecy is finally lifted from Doll’s tragic fate.

[floralcyanide]

𝐢'𝐥𝐥 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 - 𝐜𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐧!𝐨𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐫

cillian murphy!oppenheimer x reader

DISCLAIMER: this is fanfiction. it isn’t real. Oppenheimer is a real person, however Cillian!Oppenheimer is not. he is a character. if you have something bad to say just keep it in the drafts (:

“let's all go play Nagasaki, we can all get vaporized. hold my hand, let's turn to ash. I'll see you on the other side.” - 137 by Brand New

warnings: spoilers for Oppenheimer, descriptions of nuclear bomb/ explosion, fear

word count: 1316

author's note: I love Cillian so much, and he did so good in Oppy!! I just had to write about it. please keep in mind there are spoilers in this, don't read if you haven't seen the movie. also, there's only like, one other fic on here for Cillian!Oppy which is sad but I'm sure there'll be more soon. (:

masterlist | add yourself to the taglist here

ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ, ʀᴇᴘʀᴏᴅᴜᴄᴇ, ᴏʀ ᴄʟᴀɪᴍ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀs ᴏɴ ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ, ᴀᴏ3, ᴡᴀᴛᴛᴘᴀᴅ, ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏ ᴡᴇʙsɪᴛᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴘᴇʀᴍɪssɪᴏɴ ᴛᴏ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ɪɴ ᴀɪ ɢᴇɴᴇʀᴀᴛᴏʀs ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴅᴏ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀʀᴛɪғɪᴄɪᴀʟ ɪɴᴛᴇʟʟɪɢᴇɴᴄᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴀʏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ᴛᴏ sᴇʟʟ ғᴏʀ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴏᴡɴ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛɪᴏɴ

For the last few nights, Robert has woken up abruptly from his sleep. He’ll sit upright and pant, trying his best to catch his breath. It alarms you every time he does this despite him acting like it didn’t happen. But you know he doesn’t go back to sleep after because you feel him toss and turn until morning. Test day is tomorrow, and you can feel Robert’s nervous energy radiating off him. This was it- this was the epitome of his life’s work, and if it failed, he would be lost. And you’re torn between wanting it not to work for humanity’s sake and wanting it to work for Robert’s. 

You have worked alongside your husband for many years despite the pushback from society. But he knows your intelligence and insisted you be involved in the Project. He refused to have anything to do with it unless you assisted him. Lieutenant Groves reluctantly agreed, but he still knew just how capable you were to help with the Project. 

You’re very much a housewife outside of work, though. Despite being a knowledgeable person, you still have duties at home. You’re busy folding laundry when Robert exits the bedroom after getting ready for a meeting. It was the last one before tomorrow’s events. Robert doesn’t say much to you before bidding his farewell and heading out. It wasn’t abnormal for him to mumble a goodbye before putting his hat on and leaving without anything else said. He was reserved unless it was necessary to say something. That’s one thing you admired about Robert; he could be cynical and sarcastic yet humble and a man of few words. 

You would attend a later meeting that evening, so it’s possible you may not see Robert until bedtime. You aren’t worried about him not kissing your son goodnight or missing dinner. You mostly worry he won’t sleep enough.

Later in bed, you and Robert both lay on your backs, staring at the ceiling wordlessly. 

“How are you feeling?” you suddenly ask, breaking the eerie silence.

Robert opens his mouth before shutting it again, shrugging.

You sigh, turning on your side to face him, “I can feel you have nightmares, you know.”

Robert cuts his eyes toward you before giving in and rolling over to face you as well, “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” you furrow your brow, “There’s nothing to be sorry for. What we’re- what you’re doing is incredibly stressful and world-changing. It’s normal to be anxious over it.”

“That’s exactly why I’m anxious.”

“Which part?”

“The world-changing part.”

You’re quiet for a moment before answering, “What do you dream about?”

Robert’s eyes study yours closely, searching for any instance of potential recoil from what he’s about to tell you. He searches even though he knows he won’t find it because Robert knows that you’d never leave him no matter what. Even if his nightmares were incomparable to even the most descriptive horror stories. What’s worse is that Robert knows no one has ever seen the results of a bomb the magnitude of the one he’s created. So it’s up to his imagination. And his imagination is one of grotesque imagery that he hopes won’t come to fruition.

“Death,” Robert says plainly, with a cold look, “Destruction. Everything in my dreams is obliterated by fire and disintegrates into ash, and even the ash turns into nothingness.”

You purse your lips, gently reaching your hand up to touch Robert’s cheek, running your thumb over his cheekbone.

“I don’t fear for me or for us. I fear for our children,” Robert gives a watery laugh, “And the world they’ll have to grow up in knowing that such weaponry exists.”

You tuck Robert’s head into your chest, “You are merely the creator, darling. You have no control over how they use your creation. And I know that worries you, but you cannot do much about it.”

“I know. You’re right. But the fact I’m the one responsible for such a destructive device,” Robert trails off.

“Your creation is for science exploration and nothing more,” you say, “Remember that tomorrow.”

When you awake at two in the morning to prepare for the test, Robert has already gotten up from bed. You figure he didn’t sleep and has already made his way down the street to prepare. You hurriedly get dressed, grab your son, and walk out the front door. You let your neighbor, one of the wives of another scientist, watch over your son while you and Robert are away. A vehicle has been sent to your home, probably by Robert, to retrieve you. The ride is quiet and bumpy. You figure they would take you to the main hall, but they keep driving into the desert. Everyone must already be at Trinity. 

Trinity is alight, with people who worked on the project scurrying around to find the perfect spot to watch the explosion. You climb off the vehicle and run to the tent where Robert resides with the others. A relieved smile grows on his face when he sees you walk in.

“I didn’t want to see this without you,” he says, pulling you in for a tight hug.

“Did you sleep at all?” you mutter into his shoulder.

“Unfortunately, no. But sleep can come later,” Robert says, returning to the detonation station. 

You cross your arms and walk around aimlessly, watching the scientists scramble to take their places and put sun shades on.

“Ninety minutes,” Robert says from behind you.

You turn around to look at him, a half smile growing on your face, “I’m proud of you.”

“And I’m proud of you, too. Without your suggestions, we may not be here,” Robert plays with a loose strand of your hair.

“I doubt that,” you chuckle, “Your brainpower alone has done the job.”

“I’ll see you on the other side,” Robert says.

After a little under an hour and a half of checking that everything was perfect and prepared, everyone took their places where they wanted to view the test. You’re next to Robert, with goggles on your face that match his. Both of you have ports to get a fantastic view. The countdown begins.

Everyone becomes dead silent as the bomb is detonated. The flash causes you to gasp, your eyes adjusting to the sudden brightness despite the goggles. When the light subsides, you see a mushroom cloud of nothing but fire beginning to rise to the atmosphere. Beside you, Robert grabs hold of your hand and grasps it tightly. 

“Now I am become Death, the Destroyer of Worlds,” Robert says with a haunting tone.

You remove your goggles along with everyone else as you squint against the harsh brightness. Before you is the most terrifying, breathtaking thing you’ve ever seen. A firestorm that is capable of mass destruction. A scientific miracle. But before anyone can relax, the sound of air rumbling and rushing toward the tent is heard. The sound of the explosion hits the viewing base violently. The blast wave smacks everyone as they brace themselves against the high wind. Once the hot gust of air subsides and the explosion tapers down, everyone begins to cheer and clap.

“We did it,” Robert says in disbelief before he looks up at you, “We actually did it.”

You nod, smiling at him proudly before engulfing him in a hug.

“I have destroyed the world,” Robert whispers in your ear, and you pull away to see an odd flash of emotion cross his face.

“You haven’t,” you whisper back, as people begin to approach your husband, “But you’ve changed it forever.”

As colleagues surround Robert and move him outside, you remain in the tent for a moment. You replay the mushroom-looking explosion in your head. You begin to ponder what the Manhattan Project’s creation will do for the world. And whether it’s good or bad.

Either way, everyone has been forever changed.

[buttonmillipede]

‼️RANT‼️

TW: porn, sa, rape, pedo, this is a commentary.

Im so tired of the Bsd fandom. Like i like it sometimes i won’t deny that but there is too much porn 😭😭

I want family fond, fluff, anything! I want teen reader who acts too much like a bsd character when they were their age, i want a teen reader in the beast au whos dazai right hand like how dazai was moris right hand, i want dad/mom bsd parent, I want teen reader taking the place as the new demon prodigy, i want intelligent reader. I want child of chuuya or dazai meeting someone who is just like chuuya or dazai. (Idk how to explain well but here you go. Ex: Child of chuuya meets someone who acts just like dazai when chuuya met dazai, or child of dazai gets body slammed by someone who acts like chuuya), i want a sassy child reader. I WANT PLOT. PLEASE IM BEGGING, IM SO BORED OF JUST READING PORN AFTER PORN CAUSE THERES NOTHING ELSE. ITS SO DRY IN HERE, IF YOUR GONNA MAKE PORN MAKE IT INTERESTING. I DON’T WANT TO SEE DADDY DAZAI, THAT MAN IS NOT A DADDY, HES A MANIPULATIVE TWINK. At this point its not even nice to read it. I can just hear my pussy shrivel up and die every time i stumble across smut or lemon or whatever people call it nowadays. Also side note non-con, pedo shit, etc is way to normalized in this fandom.

Edit: i just want to add im not against porn, do whatever you want i can’t control you. What im so upset about is the fact its only porn, i can’t find a x reader (Platonic or Romantic) without it being anime characters raw dogging it. I just want more variety.

Edit 2: I’m being overdramatic as a joke I don’t like complaining without adding things that will make me laugh, sorry I didn’t make that clear. If you don’t agree with my opinion scroll away, this wasn’t made to start any fights. This is just mindless ranting about what bugged me at the moment, please don’t give me solutions or try to treat me like a I’m stupid. I already know what solutions to take, and I’m already taking them. I also want to add again: I DON’T HAVE A PROBLEM WITH PORN. DO NOT DEBATE WITH ME ABOUT THEM.

Edit: Ya’ll are porn addicts. This is a commentary, its my opinion. Mindless rambling. But the way im seeing people get straight up attacked for saying its weird how much porn there is especially since most of the topics are gross, is bad. Im lucky to have only a few try to fight me. I want to add, Im not talking about consenting adults im talking about yandere (Yandere is debatable), rape, sa, pedo. I find it disgusting and unethical. I understand if you’re using it as a tool for comfort but understand its not healthy. My conclusion is porn no matter what form is just as addictive. If you find something you don’t like scroll, if its bad report and block then scroll.

[vodika-vibes]

hello!!! i would like to request something for the follower event please! i would like to request aquamarine with wrecker in fall please! i also want wrecker to be emotionally intelligent please! i feel like it’s something that’s very underrated abt him.

i was thinking about something where the reader is the medic to the bad batch, who has been recently heartbroken so horribly by an ex that she’s given up on love entirely. then wrecker comes along being his lovable, caring, and joyous self and the reader can feel herself falling for him. but because of her history with love, she tries to close herself off from him.

wrecker, who has been falling in love with the reader, can see that something is wrong, and tries to help but receives a cold shoulder. eventually wrecker confesses his feelings for the reader, and the reader tells wrecker that she feels the same but is scared about getting hurt again. wrecker reassures her that he is not going to break her heart, and tells her that love is about taking a leap of faith.

so the reader takes that leap of faith and it ends with the reader and wrecker having their first kiss!

absolutely no rush to get this finished btw! thank you so much, and i hope you have a wonderful day/night!!

I Can Fix That

Summary: Wrecker knows that the pretty Doctor has sworn off love. She’s never been shy about that, or about how awfully her ex treated her. But, he’s pretty sure that he can fix this.

Pairing: TBB Wrecker x F!Reader

Word Count: 652

Prompts: Aquamarine - Healing Love

Warnings: Implications of a previous abusive relationship, though there's no details

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly

A/N: Sorry that this took so long! I needed to come up with a good idea, and I think I finally found one. Also, I couldn't add in all of the details, due to my self-imposed word limit, but the implications are there.

“You need some help, Doc?” Wrecker asks with a grin as he knocks on the door to the medbay on the Marauder, “I’ve got nothing to do and Hunter told me to make myself useful.”

She frowns at him, though Wrecker can tell it’s not because she’s annoyed with him, so much as the situation, “I’m actually all set here, Wrecker. So long as no one gets hurt, it’ll stay that way.”

“Well, you know what Tech is like.”

She pauses, and then makes a face and turns to pull some bandages out from over the sink, “Honestly, for such a smart man you’d think that he’d be able to pay more attention.”

Wrecker grins, “He does pay attention. To his project.”

“You’re not helping.”

He laughs, “Sorry, sorry.” He settles on one of the chairs and stretches his legs out, “In any event, as soon as Tech finishes the repairs we can get out of here. I’m not a huge fan of how humid it is.”

She shoots him an odd look, “I mean, I don’t like it either. But why do you dislike it so much?”

Wrecker’s grin widens and he smooths his hand over his head, “It’ll ruin my hair.”

A startled laugh falls from her pretty lips, and Wrecker’s wide grin softens. He’s glad that she’s not giving him the cold shoulder anymore, it makes flirting with her so much easier.

Her laughter subsides after a few moments, but a few giggles still escape her lips, “You’re such a goof, Wrecker.”

“Well, someone on this ship has to be funny, it might as well be me.” He folds his arms over his chest, “You know,” Wrecker says slowly after a moment, “We’re going back to Ord Mantell after this.”

“Yeah, I remember.”

“Well, there’s this nice little food stall, they sell these little pancake things with desserts in the middle-?”

“You mean crepes?” She asks.

“Yeah, I think that’s what they’re called.” He watches her closely, “You want to get some with me?”

She pauses, and there’s a flash of uncertainty on her face.

“No judgment if you don’t, Firefly.” Wrecker adds, his voice gentle, “I know that your ex and his actions make dating hard, make trusting people hard-”

“I don’t want to talk about it, Wrecker-”

He holds up a hand, “Let me talk, please?”

She settles, though the look of uncertainty lingers on her face.

“Thank you.” Wrecker pauses to collect his thoughts, “I love you. You’re…amazing. You’re smart and kind and funny and good. And you’re so afraid of being hurt that you refuse to even consider a relationship.”

She ducks her head, her hands clutching the hem of her jacket.

“And that’s fine. I have no idea of the kind of stuff your ex put you through, but I can guess.” Wrecker leans in, “This is me making sure that you know that I’m interested. And me letting you know that I’m a patient man and I can wait until you’re ready for a relationship.”

She blinks at him, startled.

“So, what do you say? Want to get crepes with me? Just as friends, no more.”

She’s quiet for a long time, long enough that Wrecker starts to think that she’s going to turn him down, but then her grip loosens on the hem of her jacket, “Do you remember if they had fruit crepes?”

And Wrecker grins, “You know, I think they do.”

“Well, in that case…” She won’t meet his gaze, “I do like crepes. And I like spending time with you.”

“Then it’s a date.” Her gaze snaps up, and he grins, “A friend date, but a date all the same.” Wrecker pushes to his feet, “Now, I have to go. I was supposed to be helping Tech.”

She blinks, and then laughs, “Wrecker!”

“What? You’re so much better to look at than my own brother. See you later, Doc!”

[mallas28]

Why Mechanical suit makes no sense in MHA ending? I will try to explain.

Many in fandom can't get over messed up ending of MHA. I got messages from people who are upset. And i can get their feeling. In this post i will try to explain why Mechanical suit given by All Might in the end doesn't make sense at all. Lets get started.

1. Ruined message of all manga. During all manga narration show us that hero could be everybody and id doesn't matter what quirk you have or your status. All you need is ure hard and hardworking. 430 chapter totally ruined that. Telling us that unless you have strong quirk or millionare friends you will be a loser with no friends and job where you unhappy (remember how in 430 chapter Izuku still have sad face and look unhappy). More interesting is that Izuku doesn't do anything to be a hero without a quirk ( Hello spinoff with a better plot). He just walks with sad face with no friends no goal in life. Until SUDDENLY All Might appears and give him a suit out of nowhere. Do you get what i am trying to say? OFA Izuku earned and it was shown in manga. Mechanical suit Izuku doesn't earn at all. He doesn't even try to be a hero without quirk.

Also, Izuku looks like a big hypocrite to that boy Dai(i forgot his name). He just tells Dai he can be a hero with a weak quirk in order to get a millionare suit, immediately abandon his job neing teacher and join his friends....Wow. Izuku...you hate your job so much? Dai, sweetie, i am sorry for all that. You could be a hero, if Horikoshi has a better writing skills or better and strong editor.

2. Horikoshi makes all looks like his favorite comics DC and Marvel and doesn't aknowledge the writing background.

So many people see that Izuku become new Iron man of MHA. Horikoshi several times stated that he loves Marvel Spiderman and Tony Stark. He wants to make MHA just like Marvel and DC and thats the major problem. He doesn't want to analyze writing background his favorite characters has in Marvel. He just copied and added without questions.

The same thing with Mechanical suit. Horikoshi just thinks that it would be a good thing to make Izuku new Tony Stark. Now let me explain why it doesn't work. What writing background Tony Stark has

1. Tony Stark is a billionaire with high Intelligence. No Fairy GodMother appear out of nowhere and give him suit. Tony Stark literally make his first suit out of trash by his own hands!!!! He literally make himself a hero by using his brain. It works in narrative.

Izuku on the other hand as i mentioned above, just has a Fairly Godmother aka All Might who give him suit.

2. Tony Stark has a several breaking points. I saw in fandom that many people were craving for Izuku has a breakdown moment. Izuku doesn't have that. He just walks with sad face, pretending to be happy. But nothing....

Tony Stark was fighting with alcoholism!!! Because of stress being Iron Man and his inner demons!!

3. Most Important detail. Mechanical suit given by Izuku was inventing by 8 f%%$ years! One suit!!! Do you see a problem here?

Lets imagine that Izuku faces villain who can control technology. What could he do in that moment? Or lets imagine that Izuku faces villain like AFO (with strong quirk i mean) and his suit is crushed. What he is gonna do next? Walking with gloomy face again waiting for another 8 years for All Might to appear? Do you see problem? Mechanical suit doesn't make sense. Even All Might example proves that..because his Mechanical suit handle 1 fight!!! 1 fight Carl. And was total crushed!!!

Add to this Izukus self-destructive behavior and you will understand that this Mechanical suit will have a very short life. These billions dollars could be given to poor ill children instead it would be more heroic than this

Tony Stark on the other hand has 100500 suit that were crashed!!! Yes! Tony Stark has several versions of suits. Many were crushed! But as i mentioned before Tony Stark is highly intelligent character by himself he is independent and him wearing suit is a logical thing. Unlike Izuku...

To summarize, i am very disappointed by ending and by Izuku getting that damn suit. Horikoshi is a terrible writer. But smth tells me that he planned totally different ending but Jump forbidded and he was forced to make a different ending. Because 430 chapter so wrong written, whith ZERO edition, with no sense at all. That i feel it was written in one week literally or one day. But original ending was thrown out of windows. Thank to Jump.

[trigunwritings]

The Masks We Wear

Summary: Vash the Stampede is an an enigma. Human and myth, intelligent but a fool, so easy to befriend and yet so very alone. You decide to peel back the layers—both literal and metaphorical—to see the honest, beautiful man hiding behind the mask.

Rating: Explicit

Relationship: Fem!Reader/Vash

To blame what unfolded in the late hours of that evening on having one drink too many would have been easy. Too easy. Each stray bit of clothing lost on the floor, each lingering gaze and gentle whisper to be blamed on the excuse of simple inebriation and a lack of restraint. If there had been an ounce of doubt—so much as a flicker of hesitation—it would have been all to easy to toss your actions aside and pretend that you had misread his own, if only so that he wouldn’t feel embarrassed by it come sunrise.

But it’s just a show. You and Vash know that both of you had sipped at nothing but water since arriving at this quiet little town. But it doesn’t change the fact that you waited, pausing after every forgotten layer, approaching step or touch. Waited to see if he would stop you.

But he never does. Instead he lets you undress him in smooth motions, not in the way that he wants you to do the work, but simply because he doesn’t know what to do himself.

The man looks almost lost, his eyes darting about behind his glasses but never quite meeting your own gaze as hands unzip one thing after another, until he is bare-chested and turning his face away, eyes shut tight.

It’s almost as if he expects something of you. From you.

“Vash?”

After a moment, the man’s eyes open and shift so that you’re more in his peripheral, but still not quite lifting them towards your face. He looks… almost frightened, and it’s only then that your hand passes across his naked chest—covered with scars ranging from thin slices to what seems to have been jagged claws or other machinations—only to feel his heart racing. It pounds so hard against his ribcage that you can’t count the individual beats.

“Vash,” you repeat his name, ducking your head slightly to try and make his eyes catch your own. “Are you okay?”

He is silent for a few moments, but his heart doesn’t slow.

“… I uh… I’ve… never… done this before,” he finally admits with a soft whisper. Vash lifts a hand and gestures, pointing his index finger from himself towards you, then back again.

“Had sex?” you offer, hoping that verbalizing it might help.

Vash turns his eyes forward and says “No,” before quickly smacking his hand to his forehead. “Wait—I mean yes. But also… this.” He gestures again, only this time waving his hand over his upper body. Over dozens of scars that must have years of history behind them all; injuries that didn’t heal correctly, wounds that were too deep.

And that’s when it hits you.

“You’ve never let anyone see you naked before.”

He nods slowly, trying to play it off with a force laugh, “Some people like t’ say that scars are hot, but I think I might have a few too many to qualify. Not uh… much of a looker underneath it all.” The humorous tone sounds so fake that it’s almost unnerving as he adds, “Sorry for disappointing you.”

”Vash,” your tone is perhaps a little too sharp, as the man flinches slightly and quickly ducks his eyes away again. But all it takes is a gentle nudge of your fingertips against his jaw, your other hand reaching up to pluck the glasses from his face so that you can see his sky-blue eyes clearly, bright and wonderful that you could get lost in them.

“You’re beautiful.”

He stares at you. For several long moments it’s as if he had been frozen in time, lips parted just enough so that you can see his tongue behind them trying for form words as his face grows flushed with heat. It isn’t hard to guess that he is seconds away from turning his attention away again, so you hold his chin and force him to hold your gaze.

“Vash, you are so beautiful.”

And that is when, in a gentle but firm motion, you grab Vash’s shoulders and push him onto the squeaky old bed.

What follows is admittedly a bit of a visual blur of clothes falling to the ground alongside the constant creaking of a bed frame so aged and worn that it could collapse beneath your bodies at any moment—considering how much you were focusing on the man atop which you straddled, it easily could have without being at all noticed.

For better or worse, Vash wasn’t very good at masking his thoughts. They were all too plain upon his features as you removed your clothing in turn. Shirt, pants, bra and underwear shamelessly discarded upon the floor all while you did your best to remain astride his lanky hips.

If the crimson hue over his cheeks and ears didn’t give away his interest, then something else certainly did; it wasn’t hard to notice the hard shape pressing in the space between your thighs, separated only by Vash’s pants and whatever he wore beneath them.

“You’re cute when you blush,” you can’t help but tease, hands reaching down to undo his belt as your eyes roamed languidly over his chest and up towards his face. Flushed even more, if that was possible. “Is this the first time you’ve seen a woman naked?”

He glances away, but only for a brief moment as if to fish out the right words from the sea of chaotic thoughts.

“N-No,” he finally whispers, trying to stifle any perceived stammering with an awkward chuckle, “I mean—almost once, b-but I think the lady got my inn room mixed up with someone else’s at the time. Was barely able to explain it before she had her shirt completely off. C-Crazy story huh?”

You lift an inquisitive brow but don’t prod any further, instead deciding to use the moment to pull Vash’s belt free from the loops of his pants, then start tugging them down over his hips and legs.

“Woah woah wait a minute—“ he says, “Do we really uh, need to take those off?”

“You needed to have them off in order to have sex the last I checked,” you say upon tossing them onto the ground. “At least the kind I assumed we were going to have.”

Even in the brief glance allowed from the motion, it’s easy to see that the scars go all the way down the full length of his body; not an inch is without some faded mark, blemish or old wound. Pushing back a sympathetic urge as hands trace up his legs, your fingers curl around the hem of his boxers.

“It’s not like I don’t know what you’re hiding in these, Vash.” Your laughter echoes in the small room, tone and words soft and without an edge, but you’re keenly aware that the line between the man’s consent and non-consent is as thin as as string. When he doesn’t otherwise try to resist or offer other words against the you after several seconds, you move to take off the last layer of clothing on either of your bodies.

If it had been hard to tell that he was aroused by the tone of his voice or the burning of his cheeks, then Vash’s cock would have made it plainly obvious as it bounces aching and flushed from the confines of his boxers.

There isn’t even a spare moment to let him try to make a self-depreciating joke before you’re sitting astride him once more, settled in a way that his arousal presses against the curve of your lower belly.

“… How are you feeling?”

“I… think this mattress could be hiding rocks in it with how hard it is on my back.” Vash offers you the slightest smile, shy but not overly so. “Also, terrible interior design. Zero out of ten.”

“You doofus,” you gently slap a hand down onto the center of his chest and push him down into the bed, “would you like me to stop?”

There is a pause, silence that is filled only by the muted and distant sounds of rowdy bar goers on the floor below.

His heart is still racing.

“… no, this is okay.”

“Good,” you smile, then shift so that both of your hands are pressing palm-down over Vash’s bare chest. You can feel the shape of several scars against one, while the fingers of the other splay over where metal meets with knitted flesh at his left shoulder.

There would be a time to ask and ponder, but this precious moment is not it. Instead of bitterness and the weight of past pains and memories, you want it to be good. You want him to feel good. To feel adored in a way he had never allowed someone else to offer him before.

After the gentle silence of two breaths echoing in tandem, your eyes narrow in mischievous joy.

“I won’t let you out of this bed until you admit that you’re wonderful in every way.”

“I’m not,” Vash says, the rejection sounding stiff and instinctual. Then he tries to shoot you a smile. “You’re the wonderful one.”

“It’s not a competition, Vash.” your hands begin to roam idly across his chest, fingertips tracing idle shapes and along the seams of several old, long scars that looked as if something sharp had torn through the flesh.

His hands lay next to your legs, fingertips just barely brushing against bare skin; if you were to hold your breath, you’d feel them shaking ever so slightly.

Nearly imperceptible, like the mask that Vash wore around other people. But not you.

Not you.

”I see you,” you murmur, leaning down and pressing your lips into the curve of his throat. “All of you. Every inch—and it’s wonderful.” One kiss leads into another, then another, uncountable as each press sweet and purposeful against the myriad of scars across Vash’s upper chest. Even your voice is gentle as it hums against his marred flesh. “You are so wonderful Vash, my Vash…”

A breath catches in his throat every time your lips fall upon his chest. Aching. Wanting. Horny and touch-starved in a way that he never could quite comprehend or realize he so utterly lacked the satisfaction of.

The kissing continues, tracing over his right shoulder until, slowly, your attention moved down his arm and up to his hand that you brought up to your face. As your lips met the inside of his wrist, you murmur, “Do you want me to keep touching you?”

As your eyes flutter open and glance towards his face, you find Vash nodding—silent, but honest. Horribly honest. Terribly, beautifully, wonderfully honest; his flushed face and racing heart could never hide the soft desire he held behind those eyes of his.

Your lips curl into a smile. “Good boy.”

In that moment, there was a shift in Vash’s gaze. Something deep and carnal that blossomed with every syllable of the words that left your mouth.

“Such a good boy, Vash. Let me make you feel good—will you let me help you feel good?”

Another nod, softer than the first but just as sure. Maybe it’s the way you say his name. Most people tended to call him ‘Stampede’ or ‘the human typhoon’ or any number of other titles that often seemed to hang on his shoulders like stones, but you can’t help but love the way his eyes light up whenever you say his name, as if entranced for a single fleeting moment.

It doesn’t take long before your hips shift so that your body is hovering over his cock, seemingly harder than it was before. He isn’t particularly large, but neither is he particularly small either—it helps that you’re just as aroused as he is, but the slow motion down is as much for your own benefit as it is to simply tease Vash in turn.

He whimpers, hands shaking a bit more obviously as his left one comes to gently hang onto your hip. It is cold, but he doesn’t try to force your hips down any faster than you are willing to go.

“That’s a good boy…”

Your voice is breathless and tight. Even when the full length of Vash’s cock fills you, it takes a few moments to collect your thoughts and reign them in properly; every instinct in the back of your mind wants nothing more than to bounce up and down, repeated motions in a carnal need for pleasure, but it doesn’t take more than a moment to stifle them and turn your eyes back towards the man beneath you.

A beautiful, flushed mess.

“It’s okay,” you whisper with a smile. “You don’t need to hold back if you’re about to…”

“IthinkIloveyou.”

A moment passes. Brief. Soft. The words begin to sink in like the precious drops of water from a leaking pipe. Words that had been understood, but not quite spoken so plainly between the two of you—words that you knew Vash had been so afraid of speak.

All you can do is look at him, hoping that the joy and warmth bubbling within is clear across your expression. “I love you too.”

It doesn’t take long before you’re setting a gentle pace, hips bouncing up and down with just enough speed that his cock is barely missed before it is pressing inside of you once more. Languid and loving, careful and continuous. Each blip of pleasure is enough to make your walls constrict around him tighter, which in turn draws out a series of sweet whimpers and moans from Vash’s lips.

“That’s it baby,” you murmur in broken breaths. “You feel so good inside me. So beautiful.”

To emphasize the words, a series of kisses pepper across the man’s chest. Each press of your lips earn a soft gasp of your name mixed with broken pleas for more. You never knew it could sound so arousing to hear him begging.

That alone was its own addiction.

Between soft whispers of encouragement and love, you can hear Vash’s whimpers gain volume and fervency. His own body starts to shift and squirm desperately, hips lifting up to meet the motions of your own to try and bury his cock as deep inside you as possible—and all the while, your name is a prayer upon his lips.

“You can cum.” Your hands finally settle back on Vash’s chest, then move so that your palms are cupping against either side of his face even though his eyes are shut tight. “You don’t need to hold anything back, Vash. Let me help you feel good—cum inside me, baby.”

It doesn’t take any further encouragement for the man to practically sob as he finds a beautiful climax beneath you. His hips move desperately for a few seconds while he spills his seed inside of you and then slow down, all the while his chest is heaving for air. After a thin whimper, Vash’s eyes finally flutter open.

They’re beautiful.

He looks at you for a moment before breaking the gaze to look down towards where his body meets yours in blissful union, and then lifts it back up to your face.

“Are you…?”

“Don’t worry about me.”

The smile that pulls at your lips is filled with warmth and honest pleasure, happy if for nothing else then to see Vash vulnerable and trusting in your intimate embrace. He starts to complain, but you shush the sound with a kiss that lingers long enough for the man to fall into a peaceful afterglow.

“There’s plenty of time for me later,” you whisper upon breaking the kiss. “Right now is for you. Just you.”

He is silent, but it doesn’t last for very long before he asks in a murmur, “Can… we stay like this for a few more minutes?”

A chuckle breaks past your lips before you can stop it, not meaning to make Vash feel bad for asking a simple question.

“Don’t you remember what I said earlier?”

He stares at you, a little dumbfounded, though that might be the orgasm tossing his thoughts around.

With a smile on your lips, you repeat the promise, “I won’t let you out of this bed until you admit that you’re wonderful in every way—even if that means being here kissing you ‘till sunrise.”

[mercillery]

can you do sfw alphabet for lucius please i beg 🙏 🛐💕

I’m really sorry if this wasn’t long enough or if there was some confusing parts. ❤️❤️🥲

WARNINGS: GENDER NOT SPECIFIED

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Only the first section and I’m already struggling, sorry if this part doesn’t make sense.

In public, Lucius tends to keep displays of affection minimal, usually opting for a subtle arm around your waist or sweeping you away bridal style as he leads you to another destination. However, in private, he becomes much more affectionate, his touches growing bolder and more lingering. He's not afraid to explore intimacy behind closed doors, leaving you longing for his touch long after it's gone.

In public, Lucius will typically wrap an arm around your waist, hold your hand, or opt for the classic bridal-style carry if the moment calls for it. In private, his touches become more lingering yet bold, leaving you yearning for more. For instance, he might let his hand linger on your thigh, slowly inching upward with deliberate slowness. If he senses your shyness or surprise at his boldness, he'll smoothly withdraw his hand, pretending as if he hadn't just been about to do something daring.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

To become Lucius's best friend, you'd likely need to possess exceptional intelligence or formidable strength—qualities he could utilize to further his grand plan. Initially, you might start off as just another Dark Disciple or someone assisting him in achieving his goals. Over time, as you both worked together and got to know each other better, you gradually earned his trust and respect, eventually solidifying your position as his best friend.

As Lucius's best friend, you're granted front-row access to every event related to his grand plans. He ensures you're there to witness his triumphs and successes firsthand. Moreover, he's always ready to protect you whenever you need it, ensuring your safety and well-being amidst the chaos of his ambitions.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

Lucius doesn't place much importance on cuddling, so it's not something he actively seeks out. However, if you initiate it, he won't object—he'll wrap his arms around you in response. Essentially, unless you initiate it first, he won't cuddle you first—not out of stubbornness or shyness, but simply because it's not something that crosses his mind often.

When Lucius does indulge in cuddling, he'll occasionally pepper a few kisses on the top of your head. It's a simple gesture—nothing too out of the ordinary—but it still adds a touch of sweetness to the moment.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

Lucius isn't keen on settling down; his attention is entirely consumed by his grand plan. However, if you were to express a desire to settle down, he might entertain the idea by explaining how he envisions settling down with you once his plan is accomplished.

As the eldest sibling of three, it's likely that Lucius possesses decent cooking and cleaning skills. Despite potentially having most things handed to him on a silver platter, he's still adept at handling household chores and preparing meals.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

Lucius is direct and decisive, wasting no time in cutting to the chase. If he decides it's time to end the relationship, he won't mince words. While he may bid you a cordial farewell, his parting remark might carry a hint of his vision for the future, perhaps something like, "Look forward to the day you embrace your 'true' form." Even though he ends things without hesitation, he ensures to do so with politeness, avoiding any unnecessary harshness.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

For Lucius, commitment isn't something he particularly emphasizes, viewing it simply as a conventional means of expressing love, much like anyone else. However, if he were to commit himself to someone, he would see it as a declaration of ownership, a way of claiming what he perceives as rightfully his.

For Lucius, the timing of marriage would coincide with the moment he truly realizes he's in love with you. It's not just about formalizing the relationship; it's a declaration to the world that you belong to him and him alone. Essentially, he'd marry you when he realizes he loves you deeply and envisions you as the one to rule beside him when he ascends to the title of the Final Wizard King.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

Physically, Lucius is surprisingly gentle. Despite any rough situations he may find himself in, he never treats you with anything but care and tenderness. Whether he's engaged in battle, shedding blood one moment, or carrying you away from danger the next, he handles you with a gentleness that belies the intensity of the situation. So yes, when it comes to physicality, he's definitely on the gentle side.

Emotionally, Lucius is remarkably gentle. He'll patiently listen to you talk about your problems, hobbies, or whatever random thoughts are on your mind for as long as you need. If you're grappling with something that's weighing you down or causing you immense worry, he'll attentively listen and offer thoughtful solutions to help ease your burden which is usually a “want me to get rid of them?”

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

Lucius doesn't have strong feelings about hugs. It's not that he dislikes them; he just doesn't place much importance on them. However, when someone familiar, like his siblings or you, embraces him, he simply accepts it and returns the gesture with a gentle pat on the back.

As for himself, he never initiates hugs. It just never really crosses his mind to do so.

If Lucius were to initiate a hug, it would undoubtedly be a somewhat suffocating yet gentle embrace. By suffocating, I don't mean he'd squeeze you until you turned purple; rather, the feeling of being enveloped in his arms might feel overwhelming due to the rarity of such an occurrence. Lucius, being who he is, isn't known for freely giving hugs, so the shock of experiencing one from him might feel suffocating in a figurative sense. However, his actual embrace would be gentle.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

Lucius takes his time when it comes to saying those three little words—it might take a few years, at best. He's not one to rush into declarations of love. Only once he's completely certain that you're the one he wants by his side in his envisioned new world, where he reigns as the Final Wizard King and everyone has embraced their "true" forms, will he begin saying, "I love you."

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

Lucius never experiences jealousy. After all, why would he? He sees you as exclusively his, and he trusts you implicitly. With that level of trust, there's simply no room for jealousy in his mind.

If, by some rare chance, Lucius were to feel jealous, it could lead to a sense of possessiveness and potentially controlling behavior as he seeks to assert his claim over you.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

Lucius's kisses can vary from demanding to gentle, or sometimes a blend of both. When he's in a demanding mood, he kisses with a sense of ownership and authority. Yet, when he's in a gentle mood, he treats you as delicately as if you were made of glass. So, it could swing either way, depending on the moment.

Lucius has a few favorite spots where he loves to kiss you: the top of your head, your forehead, your neck, and your jawline. Each spot holds its own significance for him. When he kisses your head or forehead, it's an intimate gesture that signifies a deep emotional connection—he feels spiritually and emotionally close to you in those moments. On the other hand, when his lips find their way to your neck or jawline, it's a more romantic and euphoric experience for him, if you know what I mean.

Lucius doesn't have strong preferences when it comes to where you kiss him; he finds any spot equally endearing. However, one spot that would particularly resonate with him is his face, especially if you planted a kiss on his cheek. He'd find it incredibly sweet and charming, likely amused by the gesture.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

Is he father material? Lest find out. DRUM ROLL, PLEASE!

🥁

🥁

🥁

Yes. Lucius is, in fact, father material.

GUYS HEAR ME OUT HEAR ME OUT 🙏

Despite not envisioning himself as a father, Lucius would likely excel in the role if he ever became one. He finds children immensely amusing and possesses the patience necessary to handle them, honed through his experience as the oldest brother of three. His patience with others is already commendable, but with children, it's truly remarkable. Moreover, he'd likely exhibit a subtle playful side with kids, engaging in activities like holding out a lollipop or a teddy bear just out of reach and playfully teasing them as they try to reach it with their highest little jumps.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

Lucius is undeniably an early riser. When he wakes up ahead of you, he's careful to be extra quiet, even planting a gentle kiss on your forehead before slipping away to do who-knows-what. If you happen to be awake when he rises, he'll linger in bed a little longer, running his fingers through your hair tenderly.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Nights with Lucius are incredibly tranquil and serene. Conversation during these times is sparse, typically limited to exchanging stories about your respective days. Otherwise, the only sound that fills the air is Lucius' gentle humming. If you haven't heard Lucius' voice yet, just search "Lucius Zogratis voice/VA" and you'll see exactly what I mean. He definitely seems like the type to hum during the quiet hours of the night, but only when it’s him alone or with you, of course. And if you beg ask, he might hum you to sleep.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

Lucius does open up about himself as the relationship grows more intimate, like when he’s sure he can fully trust you, but brace yourself—it's a slow journey. Like a snail's pace is slow. And when he does drop hints about his past or himself, it's so subtle that you might question if it's intentional or just his natural style. Regardless, when those rare crumbs of information fall your way, you drop everything and listen like it's the most important revelation of your life—because it literally is.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

Lucius is hardly ever angry. His closest approximation to anger is usually just disappointment, a rare occurrence in itself. Otherwise, he's always sporting that smug smirk of his, unfazed by the chaos around him.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

Lucius has a memory like a steel trap, capturing every detail you've ever shared with him, big or small. He's the ultimate vault of information, effortlessly recalling even the tiniest details. Need a password or code memorized? Just ask him once, and it's stored away in his mind's palace for eternity. So don't be shocked if you toss him a super specific question that would stump the average person—he'll fire back with the answer faster than you can say "photographic memory."

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

Since Lucius can fly, I imagine he often sweeps you away for nocturnal flights, deeming them the most intimate moments. He relishes the sensation of feeling you cling to him as he takes you soaring through the night skies. Picture that iconic scene from Aladdin, where Jasmine and Aladdin ride the magic carpet, except there's no magic carpet—it's just Lucius.

And if you happen to have a fear of heights, well, brace yourself, because Lucius is going to absolutely relish it! Your tighter grip on him only adds to his amusement. The sensation of your trembling arms clinging tightly to him as he whisks you away into the night sky is downright euphoric for him.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

I think this one is obvious, but Lucius is fairly protective. The man literally has his clones around you 24/7. Need I say more?

The majority of the time, it's his clones that stand as your guardians. Whether shielding you from physical threats or deflecting hurtful words hurled your way, his clones are ever vigilant in their defense of you. Occasionally, he may enlist a few Paladins to provide additional protection, but his clones will always be the primary line of defense.

He's accustomed to being the protector rather than the one being protected, so there aren't ways he prefers to be shielded. However, in those rare instances when you attempt to protect him, he wouldn't deny finding it adorable and amusing. In fact, he might even feel a sense of pride in your efforts.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

Maybe Lucius isn’t overly romantic, but the romanticism is still there.

That being said, he puts a decent amount of effort into dates, gifts, and everyday tasks.

I omitted anniversaries above because I believe Lucius would go above and beyond when it comes to them. Anniversaries hold a special significance far beyond mere dates, gifts, or everyday tasks. It's only fitting for him to exceed the bounds of effort when it comes to celebrating such meaningful milestones.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

I don’t know, maybe the fact that he’s PLANNING TO RECREATE EVERYONE AND RULE THE WORLD?

His plan is undeniably wild, to say the least. The word "outrageous" might not even be enough to describe it. I mean, when was the last time you heard of someone aiming to become the Final Wizard King and reshape everyone into their "true" forms? Exactly, never. His entire scheme is essentially his bad habit. Achieving his goals requires him to confront opposition, often resorting to violence and killing—something you're not okay with, I hope. Additionally, he'll prioritize his plan over you.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

Lucius is well aware of his own handsomeness, but vanity is far from his concerns. He's preoccupied with far weightier matters than his appearance.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

If you’ve read the sfw alphabet I made for Dante, Lucius mirrors him closely in this aspect.

Meaning?

Meaning that, similar to Dante, Lucius prioritizes his plans far above any concern for you. Only once he fulfills his ambition of remaking humanity and ascending to the position of Final Wizard King might he occasionally spare a thought for you. But even then, it would be infrequent.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

Has a secret soft spot for stray animals. In moments of solitude, he often finds himself taking care of injured or abandoned creatures that he comes across. Lucius tends to their wounds meticulously, ensuring their survival. However, those who have witnessed this side of Lucius are left in awe of his unexpected tenderness towards the most helpless beings.

By “those,” it eally means only you. No one else has seen his soft spot for stray animals.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

In general, he doesn’t appreciate individuals who oppose his vision for remaking humanity—obviously.

In a partner, it is essentially the same.

I literally can’t tell you anything else. This is it. Lucius values pretty much everything else his partner brings to the table, besides the whole you-opposing-his-vision-for-remaking-humanity thing, of course. He’s not one to nitpick or dwell on flaws. He embraces the entirety of you, appreciating you for who you are without judgment or criticism.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habit of theirs?)

Similar to his brother Dante, Lucius slumbers as if untouched by the weight of numerous atrocities he’s committed. His rest is serene, almost unnervingly so. I envision him as the type who sleeps on his back, hands gently folded over his stomach—the sleeping position of undisturbed tranquility. You wanna know what’s crazy though? His stillness during sleeping, as if he's suspended in time.

Because of this, you’re sometimes gripped by the unsettling notion that Lucius might be mistaken for the deceased in his deep slumber. To ease your mind, you gently rouse him, feeling a twinge of guilt for disturbing his peaceful rest. At least there's a certain solace in seeing his tired yet handsome visage as he stirs from his deep slumber, reassuring you that he's still very much alive.

[greatideas-badwriter]

Sacrificed To The Banished Prince Ch. 33

AN: Sorry that the update is a few days late. I was on a trip with my Mom!

Baron Haruno was uncharacteristically silent until the three Uchiha royals led him into Madara’s personal office and presented him with an urn filled with ashes. His face turned red. It was as though all the manners left his body because he barked, peering into the urn, “How can you be sure this is my son when this is all you have?” 

Itachi responded promptly, an air of professionalism intact, “I assure you that the palace mages were very thorough during the identification process. This is Hihara Haruno.” 

Sasuke accidentally shared a look with his uncle, whose eyes burnt with anger. It wasn’t easy to determine the cause of his ire. It was, however, simple to make the deduction that he didn’t wish to be on the receiving end of it. The second prince had never witnessed Madara’s ruthless personality firsthand, but the stories of him during the war when he and his father were in their early twenties were the thing of legend. It was said that the current king killed nearly a thousand people in a single day, all without using magic. The amount of energy, ability, and anger needed to commit such a feat would be immense. 

“Was it not the same crackpot mages who’ve also spent months unsuccessfully searching for the boy?” Baron Haruno bit. 

Madara’s glare hardened, his aura darkening, “Don’t misinterpret this formality as an act of forgiveness for the terrors with which your son plagued Konoha’s only princess. As far as the royal family is concerned, this world is a far better place with that poor excuse for a human dead.” 

Sasuke couldn’t help but add, poison coating his words as he leered at his father-in-law, “Be grateful you’re receiving this much. If it’d been me to discover him alive, nothing would remain but memories.”

It was as though the prince’s lack of faux-kindness reminded the Haruno man of their last meeting and he became awkward while still visibly irritated. He said nothing more about the remains. 

Clearly, the Uchiha men believed their business to be finished, but Kizashi hesitated before sighing defeatedly, “I must admit I haven’t traveled here just to collect my son’s remains.” He avoided Sasuke’s gaze. Instead, he tried to hold Itachi’s, likely since he was the sole member of the royal family who hadn’t shown his distaste openly. “Will you please have your mages inspect my youngest daughter?” 

Everyone stared at him in disbelief. The Baron quickly continued, sensing his plight was unlikely to be thoroughly investigated, “Since shortly after Sakura’s departure, she’s become unrecognizable. She’s always been a kind-hearted girl, but she suddenly became cold and intelligent beyond her years. I’m concerned something is very wrong.” 

‘It’s likely the one humane being in her life disappearing made her realize what a terrible family to which she’s been born,’ Sasuke thought and badly wanted to say. 

Instead, the king bit, “Who are you to ask a favor of us?” 

“Your Highness, please-” “I’ll allow your family to spend the night since it’s already afternoon, but that is the extent of my hospitality. You’re to leave the palace after breakfast tomorrow.” Even Sasuke was intimidated by Madara’s firm tone. 

With no room to argue, the unwelcome guest excused himself from the office. Itachi shared a look with his younger brother, a clear warning not to press the subject, but the prince couldn’t help it. He knew how much the youngest Haruno daughter meant to his wife. Even if the rest of her family was despicable, the girl had personally done nothing wrong. So, he cautiously said, “Uncle, we should at least have the girl inspected by the palace physicians.” 

The king’s gaze remained cold as he stared down his nephew. He took a moment to ponder before shaking his head, “I forbid it. The Haruno family has received more than enough lenience from us. If I treat someone who has disrespected the crown so kindly, our kingdom’s enemies and supporters alike will view the Uchiha name as spineless.” 

Itachi’s teeth gritted. He obviously wanted to say something but didn’t. Sasuke should’ve taken his lead, but he also didn’t. “The princess holds the girl very dear. Please reconsider.” 

“I’ve made my decision, Nephew. I suggest you accept it,” The king’s voice raised. 

The prince opened his mouth to argue, only for Itachi to interrupt, “Brother, I need to speak with Uncle alone. Can you excuse us?” 

Sasuke begrudgingly left, knowing full well that his brother just didn’t want him to butt heads with the king. When he turns the corner down the hall, headed toward the garden where his wife was likely entertaining her sisters, Kizashi Haruno is waiting. His eyes lit up when they landed on the prince, and he fell into step at his side when Sasuke walked right past with the intent to ignore him. 

“Surely you’ll help me, Son-In-Law! Think of how upset Sakura will be if something happens to her beloved sister!” 

Sasuke froze, the man following suit, before facing him with murderous intent boiling his blood. “How casually you speak to me after I explicitly said I’d kill you if you stood in my presence again.” 

Baron Haruno barely looked affected, standing tall and proud while dropping the doting father-in-law act. “Does Sakura know her husband is someone who’d kill a father simply trying to find help for his daughter?”

The prince couldn’t hold back anymore. He hit the man with all his might. Kizashi stumbled, lifting a hand to his bleeding lip and glaring at the prince, who bent forward slightly to hiss, “Sakura is also your daughter! Where was this protective nature when she was being neglected and mistreated within the walls of your own estate?” In the end, that was the biggest issue Sasuke had with the man: that he’d been a bystander and likely even directly responsible for his wife’s tragic upbringing and lack of self-value. 

“That filth is no child of mine!” As soon as the disgusted words left his mouth, the baron closed his lips with an expression that said he was trying to hide the fact that he hadn’t meant to say that. 

‘Does he mean he doesn’t consider her part of his family? That much is obvious, so why would he feel the need to say it? Unless…..’ Sasuke’s glare darkened, “If you’re not her father, then who is?” 

Finally, Kizashi’s face showed unease, fear even. He straightened his spine and gave a poor attempt at covering up his mishap, “I am her father, biologically. I simply meant that, since my late-wife didn’t birth her, she’s not recognized as an official part of my family.” 

How easily it was to determine his words as false was surprising, considering how cunning and collected he’d always been. Sasuke was suspicious of his swift demeanor adjustment and shoved the older man against the wall, “Tell the truth, or I’ll make good on my promise to end your life here and now.” 

Just as quickly as Baron Haruno had become scared did he seem smug once more. His lips curled into a grin, “Any affection you have for her will cease when you find out. Are you certain you wish to know?” The prince was understandably confused but didn’t back down. If it was about Sakura, he had to know. It could be something life-threatening or maybe it could explain some of the unknowns about her, like the strange healing power she possessed. 

“While it’s true her mother was a performer, the man who sired that thing is the same one who gave you the mark on your shoulder, My Lord.” He said the title with disrespect clearly in his tone.

It was as though the world came to a standstill. Sasuke’s heart seemed to stop before starting again at double the pace to make up for lost time. He stepped back, away from the baron, “...The wizard Orochimaru?” 

“Her mother, unbeknownst to me, was already with child upon coming into my possession. It wasn’t until she gave birth that I realized I wasn’t the father,” Kizashi explained, appearing both unhappy with the facts and gleeful that the prince was so obviously disturbed by the news. “To answer the question you’re bound to ask, why I bothered raising a bastard child, her mother claimed to curse my entire family if I didn’t.” Then, his satisfaction faltered, his eyes falling into a glare, “It was shortly after my youngest’s birth that I tested the witch’s promise. I attempted to drown Sakura, which led to my wife’s death.” 

Sasuke could barely wrap his head around all the new information. ‘Does that mean both of her parents had magical abilities? Depending on when Hana was born, Orochimaru could’ve been nearby, or he could’ve been captured by my family already.’ He wasn’t sure of the youngest Haruno daughter’s age, just that she was younger than sixteen since she’d yet to have a debut into society. 

“So, no, I care not for whether that devil-woman lives or dies. I do care for my actual children, so I’m begging for your help despite my pride.” 

The prince couldn’t figure out what to say or how to speak even if he did somehow manage to form a coherent thought. Instead, he turned and left the pathetic man in the hallway. His pace was quicker than before as he searched for his wife. 

He spotted her sitting on a bench in the garden next to her youngest sister. Her body was angled toward the girl, so he couldn’t see her face. As he approached, his steps faltered when a familiar burning met the scar on his shoulder. His hand clapped over the area as he froze. ‘It hasn’t done this since I gained control over The Curse. Is he trying to take over with sheer force?’ Clearly, the demon wanted to arise, but Sasuke gritted his teeth and refused. To be honest, since obtaining control over his body, he wasn’t sure how much easier or difficult it might be to regain it if he should let Akuma feel the sun. 

“Hello, Prince Sasuke,” a dull voice broke his train of thought and he looked up to see the two women looking his way. Hana had been the one to speak, but he could only look at his wife’s face. 

It was evident something was wrong by her pale skin and panicked expression. The thought of somehow bringing up the topic of her biological parents fell away as he approached her side. Instinctually, he held out a hand for her to hold, and she did, albeit softly and while lowering her gaze. 

‘Whatever it is, she doesn’t want to acknowledge it now.’ 

His eyes looked over her to confirm she had no new injuries before noticing someone was missing, “Where is the other girl?” The one that tried to weasel her way between them. 

“Haruka is across the garden. She and Sakura do not get along, so she angrily stepped away.” Hana answered, her tone just as emotionless as before. Sakura nodded slightly, squeezing his hand. 

Taking the hint, Sasuke knelt, “If you’ll excuse us, I believe the princess has become exhausted.” This time, the pink-haired woman didn’t protest when he picked her up and carried her back into the castle and upstairs toward the room they’d shared last night. That alone was enough to convince him her mood was low. 

As soon as the door was closed behind them, he opened his mouth to tell her what he’d learned of her lineage, only for her to cut him off. Her hand held a fist of his shirt as she tearfully said, “That’s not my sister down there! I don’t know who or what it is, but it’s not her!” 

It took a moment for the man to comprehend her words. He sat her down on the edge of the bed. She must’ve taken his silence as doubt because she shook her head, “I know I sound crazy, but I’m telling the truth, Sasuke.” 

“I believe you,” he quickly responded. And he did. “Baron Haruno offered concerns regarding her, as well. He asked my uncle to have the mages look over her.” 

Relief met Sakura’s face, “Oh, thank goodness. Surely they’ll be able to figure out what’s happening.” 

The man nodded but didn’t know why he didn’t tell her the truth, that the king had forbidden investigation of the matter. He also couldn’t bring himself to tell her that everything she knew about herself was a lie. 

As he wordlessly smoothed out her hair and kissed the top of her head so she couldn’t see the unease upon his face, his eyes closed. Until he’d solved all the mysteries surrounding the Haruno family and her birth, he’d let her focus on healing and the child growing in her stomach. 

[barbiebutgayer]

Rating Talia al Ghul’s Outfits:

*disclaimer this is just my personal opinion based on my style/taste and everyone style’s different so take this with a grain a salt*

1. Starting out LOVE the Matcha green color on her and we already know this girly can rock a skin tight leather anything at this point. Personally, wouldn’t have added a belt but we know if miss girl can incorporate an accessory to her look she will take the opportunity. It does bring more attention to her shape because it hits right under her natural waistline that, mixed with how the neckline hits, creates a nice harmony that compliments her figure well. I’ll give the nails a bonus point as well. My only downside is that while cute it would be a headache to wear with that fabric all day. I know queen is picking the wedgies out left and right when she wears this. Also she only has a front zipper which means she has to peel off that entire suit just to use the bathroom especially when it’s hot outside. With all that being said I’ll give it 6/10. The color of the suit with the nails is to die for but while it’s aesthetically is cute it’s a little underwhelming. Also the idea of trying to peel that off at the end of a long day is a no for me.

2. Love Love Lovveeee this one!! Her in vibrant pinks slay every time it’s always a vibe like you go you dramatic lil groovy barbiecore gal 💞 Anyways getting onto the look the waistline is gorgeous it looks like either gold boning or fabric draped down along the body whatever it is it’s stunning and adds a dramatic yet dainty detail. I’m also loving the pleats on the skirt and the sleek sophisticated yet playful feel the fabric and sleeves gives her. I know this one is a specific type of taste but personally it’s a yes for me I’d give this one an 10/10 Ik Ik it’s only the 2nd one I’ve rated but I’m a big fan of this look and am always here for a good high neck moment also feeling the slit yes queen get the airflow. That is one downside of the dress is the slit fairly high so prone it accidentally flashing and some people could find the high neck stiff and restricting but overall with the shape, color, fabric, the gold on the dress paired with matching gold bracelets the look gives a very feminine elegance that while soft makes a powerful statement.

3. …..total early 2010s vibes with the chunky bracelet paired with the even chunkier necklace. It’s perfect for the era of when this comic came out but I’m sorry it’s not the vibe personally. Love the shoes and the blouse but just maybe not with that skirt paired together. Or you know what the outfit is do able I take that back the combo isn’t too bad. It’s just not the best for what she’s trying to do like I’m sorry this doesn’t scream “I’m the woman who’s going to world dominate and take your business” she’s still girl bossing and dominating yes, but in a Vegas Nightclub Receptionist way. Which isn’t a bad thing I say that as someone from there. It’s just idk something about it ain’t hitting. My baby is always pretty and her hair flows gorgeously in harmony with her blouse maybe it’s her stance the photo but idk I’d give it a 3.5/10. 🤷‍♀️

4. A simple look but she does her job bringing back the hot pink in the form of cargo pants. It’s Talia’s world and everyone else just lives in to when she walks around in pink. Her blouse is super cute and length of her sleeves give her a “let’s get down to business” energy. It’s not her most over the top and flashier moments but it’s giving effortless intelligent beauty who might or might not be some sort of doctor/professor. I’d give it a 7/10 nothing bad aesthetic wise and comfort wise you’re pretty set. A little bit on the basic side for someone like Talia but for someone who constantly wears statement pieces. A casual civilian moment is refreshing to see on someone like her. Definitely a perfect outfit to for a cute hiking date or mission with Bruce. Not high enough to be a 10 but too cute of an outfit to be a 5.

5. Yeah you know not really feeling this one either. I know different artist have done variants of this suit but no matter the art style it just doesn’t do any thing for me aesthetic wise. Like idk what it is about it because I ofc love white on her and I can appreciate the symbolism behind the suit but idk i feel like they could of gone different directions. The suit just is a little stiff looking. Which I know that is the point of the look but I’m sure she definitely not comfortable imagine getting a back itch in this outfit not the vibe. The gloves are little too medical feeling especially with the straight jacket looking bands. I know I’m tearing into this one but a positive of the look is the texture of the suit I do like that added detailing gives her a bite of a regal white knight in shining armor feel. Overall would give it only a 3/10.

6. Idk about y’all but I’m feeling the long slit midi skirt with the black garter or weapon giving a free little show. The whole ensemble all together gave camp steampunk pirate feel in the best way. What I’ve learned making this post is that our girl loves a good blouse and any outfit she pair with it. The sleeves on this one is a lot more of a puffier bishop than the ones she’d d normally wear. I also really like the little belt she has sitting at her natural waist with the gold in the center. It’s a tiny detail but the gold on the belt pick up on the gold rose on her skirt. I’d rate this one a solid 8/10 maybe that’s too high of a rating but it’s different it’s dramatic without it being too over the top. Very Talia as well. 🏴‍☠️

7. It’s iconic, it’s an OG style on the queen we all know and love just with added accessories. Always the moment whenever she wears this type of style dress and she knows it. It’s a 9.5/10 ofccc! Love the plunging neckline again personally wouldn’t of done a belt if so maybe a gold one to pair with the gold jewelry but maybe that would of been too much gold and draw too much attention. Her shoes are so cute and look comfy which is a plus. Her cape piece and how the fabric falls gives her such an ethereal but modern essence when she walks through the door.

8. -10000/10 Love an orange moment on her just not when it’s a prison uniform…. #freemygirl

9. Another iconic look from an iconic moment. She reminds me of the blue fairy from Pinocchio. The twinkle in the night serving femme fatale but also girl next door at the same time with the pink dainty shoes. A simple but timeless dress comfortable enough to tend to Bruce’s wounds while also looking good. Some people might say it give night gown vibes but in a 13 going on 30 way. I’d give it a 7/10

10. Basically her high neck pink dress but in a sun-kissed orange and more gold accents with a ruby gem draped over her waistline with a slit. My god and though SLEEVES giving Shakespearean vibes ! 😍 Since it’s a version of the other one ofc I’m going to give it a 10/10 🧡

But yeah that’s it maybe I’ll make a part 2

[shopcat]

i think another thing with steve!! is that he has the bad fortune to be the guy the writers have slated to ask questions so that the other “smarter” characters can elaborate about their ideas. like more than once he has been the guy who goes “so let me get this straight. (explains the things that all the characters are supposed to have caught up to)” which tends to make him look less intelligent. i think the thing about s3 is that there’s that “i’m pretty sure it’s gumbo” moment that everyone latched onto as evidence that he’s “stupid” which is just. annoying. and his clarifying questions are never that wrong in the first place. s2 “oh like the germans” where he is right and everyone knew he meant specifically the nazis but it’s still framed in a way that makes it sound like a “dumb question”. or s4 “is this guy a clockmaker?” “is he a vampire?” not bad questions!! nobody knows how this shit works!! and i know they are trying to go for a “sibling-like relationship where they give each other shit” with him and dustin but unfortunately this season it just comes across as dustin being a dick to him all the time for no reason which is so sucks. anyways. i can’t speak to the writers but in terms of fandom writing i think if you realize you are falling victim to tropes it is a good idea to step back and maybe reevaluate how the characters actually act. sorry for all the words i love him and i have complicated feelings

this is all so very true i agree with everything and have nothing very smart to add <3 also me and sarah were literally just talking about how the gumbo line is so nothing NEWSFLASH PEOPLE gumby is ALSO a made up word i honestly think he was just being silly. is a boy not allowed to be silly without all his worth being pinned down to his silliness or his willingness to ask important plot-shifting questions.

[entropic-fantasy]

I'm going to say it a million times until all these butt-hurt solo stans and akgaes get it:

Just because Jungkook got a treatment that seems preferential (I'll add to this later), doesn't mean that none of the other members got a similar offer from Hybe nor that the company is preparing to turn from a BTS focus to a JK one.

We don't know ANYTHING about the behind the scenes negotiations, but we know something:

All members re-signed with Hybe, even having shares in the company. BTS could've split and made an unbelievably beneficial deal with one of the other companies because they're BTS. They are incredibly powerful, and you bet they have just as incredible lawyers. They could've founded their own label easily, if nothing would have been to their liking. BUT THEY STAYED. BTS aren't weak teens, unable to fend for themselves. They never had issues with standing up for their beliefs, which is why they stood out, and still continue to, from other Kpop acts.

The relationship between OT7 hasn't fallen apart. I've seen so many speculations about "oh, Vmin aren't close anymore" because of ONE hug. A speculation that was promptly debunked in a BangtanBomb. They all support one another whenever they can, and especially behind the scenes. No matter what Canon and motives certain parts of this fandom are trying to establish. I'm adding shippers onto the Solo-Stans and akgaes here, because it often are the more accepted shipping spaces that seem to give a platform to a lot of the harmful rethorics (i.e. the mistreatment of Jimin and Tae in comparison to Jungkook etc).

Every member has had his moment to shine. All 7 of them could've gone on a world tour like Yoongi did, and sold out. With ease. All 7 of them would've slayed a more US focused album promotion like Jungkook. Yes, there was certainly forecasts and finance meetings because Hybe are a company which BTS are employed by. But, again, BTS aren't mindless puppets. They didn't get where they are if they didn't stand up for themselves. So, at some point, they said no. What I find especially insidious are the people constantly focusing on the maknae line and trying to prove mistreatment while ignoring the releases of the hyungs/rapline. For certain issues people keep pointing out (restocking CDs) I have also seen posts from other fandoms saying similar things. Also: dear US-Army, the world doesn't revolve around you. Sincerely, an EU-Army that hasn't seen BTS live since before the pandemic.

Sorry to everyone who disagrees but I see Jungkook's success as a bonus to the entirety of BTS. A win for one of them is a win for the team. Everyone from OT7 had that effect, bringing in different subgroups and music fans into the fold. And no matter how much I myself f.e. love D-Day and Face, I also know that Jungkook has by far the biggest starpower apart from the group. They're ALL charismatic and beautiful, talented and intelligent, yet it's always Jungkook that has been shoved into the limelight by everyone else. It wasn't Hybe that gave him so many followers on Instagram, or TikTok. So many people online are quick to make his success a character flaw, assigning narratives and traits onto him, when we should be celebrating him like his hyungs are celebrating him.

Hybe isn't perfect. But there's no reason to vilify them or Jungkook until there is factual, irrefutable evidence and not just "trust me bro" rumours.

We don't even know what the JK brand is going to be - as far as I'm aware, at least. So let's hold our collective horses and not jump the gun.

I trust BTS 100%. I trust these full grown adults, who have been fighting their way upwards through an industry stacked against them for 10 years.

I trust Namjoon's intelligence.

I trust Seokjin no-bullshit attitude.

I trust Yoongi's tenacity.

I trust Hoseok's austerity.

I trust Jimin's fighting spirit.

I trust Tae's quiet strength.

And I trust Jungkook's perfectionism.

BTS don't do inequality - not after they fought so much to become the very sunbaenims they never had in the cutthroat industry of kpop. They run, and fight and pave the way.

To quote Haegeum:

Endless influx of information prohibits freedom of imagination, and seeks conformity of thought

All these painful noises blind you, and

Now it even infringes on freedom of thought

All the controversy incessantly

Triggers confusion in judgment uh

Really, what is it exactly that’s been restricting us?

Maybe we do it to ourselves

Slaves to capitalism, slaves to money

Slaves to hatred and prejudice

Slaves to YouTube, slaves to flexin’

Selfishness and greed have gone off the rails

I close my eyes and it's easy, it’s all so obvious

Opinions clearly split depending on what's to gain

Everyone's been blinded by envy and jealousy

Without realizing that they're putting shackles on each other

[fieldofdaisiies]

Ars Amatoria | ch. X

-all rights reserved-

Elucien AU word count: 2,9k words warnings: none

masterlist

“Of course, yes, and in exchange you will be provided with an army of a good amount of men. I will station them in camps around the city, in order for them be ready whenever needed.” Rhysand raises a brow, but Lucien gives his head a small shake, his expression solemn. “Thank you, we really appreciate that. But I would suggest to station them a little further up. Near the city of Pistoia. It is safer there and won’t draw any unnecessary attention to us. You know, I don’t want people thinking we are getting an army ready even though this is exactly what we are doing.” Lucien chuckles a little and also Elain releases a small laugh as she watches her husband with big eyes, listening to everything he says. But she quickly clamps her mouth shut and exchanges a look with Feyre. Her sister’s gaze speaks volumes — oh, you actually like your husband, huh?

And well, yes, she does. But it is too soon to tell if she likes him in a friendly way or if this is the start of falling in love with him. At the back of her mind she has a faint inkling that it might be the latter, but she quickly brushes these thoughts away. It is too early for this. 

As the evening passes and night arrives, the business talks also come to an end. Feyre wants to talk alone to her sister for a little bit, hence why Rhysand offers to bring their baby son to bed and also show Lucien to his and Elain’s shared room. Lucien bows at the waist when he leaves, flashing Elain a quick, but warm smile. Then he is gone, out of the room, but Elain still keeps looking at the door he has vanished through. 

“He is quite easy on the eyes.” Elain, with her eyes wide open in silent surprise, whips her head around to her sister. “Don’t let that your husband know that you think so,” she blurts out and laughs.

Feyre only chuckles a little mischievously and then guides her older sister over to the sofa in front of the fire place. They sit down together, Feyre turns her torso a little so she can take her older sister’s hands into hers. 

“But now seriously…how are you doing? How is the marriage for you?” A warm, sympathetic smile is on her face. “I am sorry we couldn’t be there for the wedding, but with our little son it isn’t so easy.” 

Elain shakes her head a little, and smiles. “Don’t worry. It is fine. The wedding was rather small anyway.” She inhales, closes her eyes for a moment and then blinks them open again. 

“Actually I am doing really alright. Of course, I was devastated when I found out I had to wed. A man I did not know who lived so far away. But I think I am alright with it. I miss Venice, I miss my old life, but Lucien is a good man.” And she always has to remind herself of that. Lucien is a good man, and he is her husband. She is lucky to have him as her husband. 

“He seems like a good man. And he seems smart. Very intelligent," Feyre hums, nothing but kindness on her face.

A smile tugs the corner of Elain’s lips upwards and a little giggle slips through her lips. “I think he is very smart. He always talks in a such a smart way. And he reads.” 

They talk a little about Florence as well — Elain’s new home and a city Feyre has not yet visited, but would love to see at one point. Elain promises to invite her as soon as possible which Feyre happily accepts, but adds that they will have to see how it works out with their son. They two sisters also talk about Nyx as it was Elain’s first time seeing him, he was only born a few weeks ago. He keeps his parents up most nights, but both parents are more than happy about him. “Have you talked about children already, or is this too early into your marriage?”

“We haven’t talked about children yet.” Elain presses her lips in a thin line, not looking away form her sister. “Makes sense, it only comes later. Or it just happens. We were always careful, but then, apparently we were not.” Feyre releases a warm laugh and folds a hand over her belly.  

“But don’t worry, there are ways with which you can prevent getting pregnant.” Feyre squeezes Elain’s hand, the one she is still holding. Yes, Elain thinks, for example, by not sleeping in the same bed. 

“Thank you.” Elain doesn’t even really know what she is thanking her younger sister for, but the answer seems to fit. 

“How are you? Does Rhysand have to work a lot?” Feyre tells her that he indeed does, but that it is alright, and they can deal with it and still spend a lot of time together. When both sisters start yawning, Feyre also guides Elain to her and Lucien’s shared room, kissing the top of her sister’s head to tell her good bye. Elain waves at her before she slips through the door and—

Lucien is not here. Where is he? Elain takes two steps into the room and hears her name being called, soft and gentle. “Elain?” Her husband’s voice comes from the bathroom which is adjoint to the bedroom, the door to their bedroom wide open. “I am back.” Elain answers, standing in the middle of the room, frozen in place when she hears water splash…against a tub wall. 

“I am in the bath.” Well, I guessed so, Elain thinks to herself, still not moving, her feet somehow rooted to the ground. Her heart is beating a little faster, as something in her belly warms. 

“I am done in a few minutes, then you can bath. I asked if they could bring you buckets of hot water for when you return." 

He did…? Oh god! Elain folds her hand over her mouth when a silly and bright grin breaks out on her face. He did! 

“Thank you!” she shouts into the bathroom, waddles over to the bed and flops onto it. She is still !grinning when she leans against the headboard, crosses her legs at the ankle and— 

Good God in heaven above!

Tendrils of steam rise from the bathtub Lucien is sitting his head tilted backward, eyes peacefully shut. His strong arms are braced on the edges of the tub, his long and wet auburn hair draping over the side. The flickering candlelight casts dancing shadows upon the beige walls, catching Elain's eye. And oh, holy Mother! Who in their right mind would position a mirror in the corner of the bathroom, offering a view of the bath from the bed?

Elain’s cheeks heat up, but she can’t tear her eyes away, not even as her breathing turns a little slower, heavier. His strong shoulders are nothing but sculpted muscles and she nearly finds herself gaping. Through his shirts and jackets she has never seen his muscles that well, but now…now her eyes nearly fall out of the sockets. His shoulders are broad, solid and powerful and…God, he flexes them when he shifts a little in the tub and a few droplets of water trail down his tanned skin. Elain only gets the confirmation once again that her husband is indeed one of the Roman Gods, powerful and beautiful. She tilts her head a little, mesmerised by something as simple as shoulders. Even the muscles in his arms ripple a little when he moves once again. 

He could easily pick her up. 

Elain is slightly irritated about herself. Did she just really think that? Well, he definitely could pick her up. Lift her into his arms. Carry her around. Sit her onto the bed. Throw her onto the bed. 

And, oh Lord! 

What was this thought? Where did this come from? Elain is a bit, well actually very much, shocked about herself. About her thoughts. She has never had such thoughts before. It feels like someone pulled a lever in her mind, some reckless and bold lever, that makes her want and desire things. And that certain someone is… Lucien Vanserra. 

And this certain someone also peeks an eye open. Elain remains captivated by his broad shoulders, completely unaware that through the mirror the view from the bathtub also grants a glimpse of the bed. Lucien stifles a chuckle, his lips forming a lazy smirk as he watches his wife shamelessly stare at him. 

“Enjoying the sight, my lovely wife?” Lucien cocks a brow, a smile of pure amusement playing on his lips. “Maybe you could ask Jurian to paint me like that. Something for you to look at whenever you want to.” 

Elain’s eyes that have already been wide before, go even bigger now. Startled, she hastily averts her gaze, pulling her legs up and burying her face in her knees.

“That was joke, my lady. Don’t worry. I find this quite—“ “Amusing?” Elain huffs, not sure if he even hears her muffled voice. Her face is still pressed into her kneecaps. 

“Lovely, was the word I wanted to say. No one has ever looked at me like that.” Lucien hums and curls his hands around the edge of the tub. “But now—I actually don’t mind, but this is about you. I am getting out of the bath and I am very much naked.” 

Elain understands the unspoken part, but she is not looking at him anymore anyway. And although, she is suddenly intrigued…no, not going to happen. 

Only when she hears footsteps, does she lift her head a little, peeking at Lucien who stands in the middle of the room, dressed in thin cotton pants and well, nothing else. 

An involuntary sigh parts her lips when her eyes fall onto…onto the chest of an actual god. There is no chance that in his former life Lucien wasn’t one of the Gods the ancient Romans believed in.

His chest is nothing but sculpted, solid muscles — each muscle, meticulously carved but he also has soft edges and he is just…breathtaking. 

Finally, Elain musters the courage to meet his gaze, only to find his eyes sparkling brightly. A dryness settles in her throat, robbing her of words. Her cheeks and ears still feel terribly hot but she manages to hold the eye-contact. 

“I am sorry,” she whispers but Lucien shakes his head. “Don’t ever apologise for something like that. Never, for something like that. There is no reason for you to apologise.”

Elain furrows her brows, and shakes her head, her hands curling around her knees. “I was ogling you. Shamelessly staring at your exposed skin.” 

Lucien walks up the bed, grinning cheekily. “Is it so bad for a wife to stare at her husband?” He raises his brows in a silent challenge and Elain can only laugh at him. She smacks her hands onto the mattress next to her and just laughs loudly and freely and from the bottom of her heart. “If you put it like that, I guess not,” she says and realises how much easier it is for her now to speak to Lucien. She can just talk to him, he listens, he tells her things and makes her laugh. She can also be, and that is something she has only realised when talking to Feyre, herself. Lucien did not know her two weeks ago. He had no expectations and she never had to pretend to be someone she is actually not. With him, it feels like she can start anew and show this side of her that society has never really seen before. With him she can be herself. She can be Elain, because he does not judge her, he lets her be herself. And that is an incredible feeling. 

Lucien grins at her again, his eyes trailing over her face, before he drums his hands onto the bed frame. And then he makes that sort of noise you make when you suddenly remember something, his finger lifting. 

“Before I forget," he starts. "We need to talk about what I couldn’t finish earlier.” Lucien’s expression is solemn all of a sudden and he surrounds the bed. Taking a seat on the bed, he deliberately leaves a considerable gap between himself and Elain. His wife is irritated for a moment about what he wants to talk about, her brows raised in a silent question. But then awareness dawns on her and a small kernel of sadness takes root in her chest once again. She has nearly forgotten, but now that she is reminded, her happiness fades a little. 

“You brother’s lover?” she asks in silent voice. She moves into a crossed-leg position, a pillow place on her lap where her arms rest on. She looks at Lucien, a hint of unease and uncertainty filling her stomach. 

Lucien bows his head and before he can stop himself, his hand clasps Elain’s and he squeezes it. “You don’t need to worry. Never. I will never have a lover next to you.”

Elain looks at their hands and decides to believe him. For this moment, she will believe him. She lifts her gaze and meets his. “Thank you.”

“You don’t need to thank me for that. It is my duty as your husband to be loyal to you, no matter if this marriage was arranged or not.” He gives her hand another squeeze before moving it back and sitting up straighter, his legs crossed at the ankles. 

“Now to my brother….” For a moment Lucien leans his head back and looks up at the ceiling, not quite sure where to start. Nobody but him and his brother know about his lover, about Eris’ preferences. But Lucien knows he can tell Elain, that he can trust her with it even though this is a huge step and they have only known each other for a short time. 

“Why would he do this? Have a lover?” Elain finds herself asking before Lucien can continue. “Is he so heartless?”

Lucien shakes his head vehemently. “My brother is many things but he is not heartless.” 

Lucien releases a breath, long and deep. “My brother is a good man, but…his fate has taken a special turn for him.” Lucien's eyes search Elain’s. 

“You have to promise to not tell anyone.” Elain shakes her head and honestly asks, “Who would I tell? I barely know anyone.”

“You can’t even tell our mother. Nor Jurian, as you know him. No one can know, you understand?”

“I promise I won’t tell anyone.” Elain clamps her lips shut as she grows nervous. Whom could Eris Vanserra love that was so bad no one could know? Not even their mother. “My brother is in love with a man.” 

Elain’s eyes widen, as she gasps. Now she knows why no one can know. The state forbids it. So does the church. And the Vanserra family is quite religious from what she has gathered. “I really don’t care that he loves him, I mean…I don’t really like the man he loves, but I don’t care that he loves a man, you know?” There is sad smile on Lucien’s face and he exhales loudly. 

“Who is he?” Elain finds herself asking, curiosity sparking in her mind. She actually would have thought she would be scandalised, to find out something like this. The church considers this sort of love and relationship, between two people of the same sex, a sin and she is very surprised about herself that she actually does not care. She cares more about the fact that Eris betrays his wife, but she does not at all care that he prefers men. It is his life and his life only. 

“Azriel Ardinghelli.” 

She knows him. Has seen him at their wedding. “He is the Mars to your Venus in Jurian’s painting.”

Elain smiles as it now all makes more sense and she has a better understanding of everything. 

“Thank you for telling me, Lucien. It means a lot…your trust I mean.” “You are my wife, my lady. Of course, I trust you. And it is a very good feeling to have someone to trust like this.” 

Their eyes remain locked, unable to tear away from one another's gaze. Seated on the bed, they simply sit, captivated by eyes of the other while the lowering sun lets its last strays fall into the room. 

“Now.” Lucien smacks his hands onto his thighs as he lifts himself up. He looks at the wall behind Elain for a moment. “I think we should sleep. Get some proper rest. I will claim the couch, the bed is all yours.” 

He is about to stand up when Elain stops him with a loud, “No!”

Lucien turns to her, his brows raised. “We are married, Lucien. I think we can share a bed.” Her voice is steady, does not tremble and so is the eye-contact she holds with Lucien. “I will hop into the bathtub, but then…” Elain pauses. “Please, share this bed with me, just like married people do.”

~~~~~~ taglist AA: @octobers-veryown @velidewrites @areyoudreaminof @acourtofthought @liftyourhipsformelovex @hallway5 @stickyelectrons @honeysuckle-daydreams13 @bibliophiliaxvignette @thelovelymadone @sunshinebingo @arabellatheauthor @autumndreaming7 @nestas-workwife @rarephloxes  @tuzna-pesma-snova general el. taglist: @rippahwrites @shadowhunter2003 @my-inner-crisis @ladyelain @acourtofthought @itwasalwaysaboutthetea @multifictional  @moonlightazriel @aayo-whatt @brekkershadowsinger @sunshinebingo @gracie-rosee @a-frog-with-a-laptop

[sentient-rift]

RiFT! all good? I hope so! Remember our conversation about the possible existence of a Bert son of Regal? then! I improved this idea!

Firstly, let's do him before he "rebellion" (I was going to do a version of him in the Picrew, but I decided to describe it) a skinny boy with somewhat pale skin, but his freckles give him a little life, in contrast to he's dark circles, his loose hair reaches up to his shoulder, I don't know if Bert's hair is curly or simply something unknown to me, but it's the same color as his father's hair, before he "rebellion" he was all about "doing it for my father" "getting this for my father" "help my father" "do you know my father?" "live for my father" "father"

he had no personality, he had no interests, he couldn't live if it weren't for his father, but that changed when he met Lan, well, it took a long process, but he finally rebelled, hehehe

rebellious now, he dyes his hair red and starts wearing his hair tied up, and now he has personality! insecure, courageous, intelligent, whiny, stressed (when pressured), kind, affectionate, and doesn't miss the opportunity to take something from his father, like LaserMan.EXE!!

(as I unfortunately haven't seen anything from BN, I could be wrong about what I'm going to say now, corrections are totally accepted here!) Before MegaMan.EXE deletes Laser, Bert stops him, and they even think he was a cheater, but no, he just shut down Laser, and then restarted him, changing certain aspects of his personality, and then making him his operator!

I also think about a friendly relationship between Bert and Coronel.EXE, more because of Baryl, but nothing is certain yet

but the thing I most like to think about this Bert is the relationship between grandson and grandfather with Wily!

for now, I can only imagine Wily singing "Mother (grandpa?) knows best" from Tangled, more specifically the rerun

"If he's lying, don't come crying, grandpa knows better!" but even with that feeling of "I don't care about you" deep down, he does care

Well, that was it, sorry for the long text, I was really excited! hehe, and making it clear that all this could change when i actually start see BN, but for now, we have this! hehehe, bye bye! to the next!

"Ah. Hello again. I have been well, thank you. I hope everything is well on your end...

"Yes, I do remember this conversation. A very interesting concept. I think I would like to meet the Bert of that dimension... Also, I do like the possibility of LaserMan getting a redemption Arc, especially since his operator did in the prime timeline, but poor LaserMan remained deleted. My job can be hard, but nice little moments and details like this can make it fun, especially when it means making a new friend..."

"Hey. Sorry to cut in all of a sudden, but does Wily still get redeemed by the end of the Cybeast incident in Bert's dimension, or does he stay a villain?"

"I... Believe we're still figuring it out, Lan. We still don't know everything about this said dimension. It's more of a... Concept."

"Are we breaking the fourth wall again? Do you know how tough it was to repair it the last time we did that?"

"If it makes you feel any better, don't consider any of this canon."

"It doesn't..."

"If I can interject, the idea of having a grandson does intrigue me. Though, if I don''t renounce my evil ways in said dimension, I'd be fearful of how it would effect Bert, especially after seeing how much I failed Regal as a father..."

"Even if that's the case, Wily, who that version of Wily doesn't effect who who are now. We have been very grateful for your help during this Multiverse War."

"Anyway, I enjoyed the concept and would love to hear more about it if you ever have more to add. And if this dimension turns up, I'd love to visit it someday."

[hookaroo]

Laden of the Torn (16 of 25)

AO3 link Catch up on tumblr: One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten Eleven Twelve Thirteen Fourteen Fifteen Tagging @priscilla9993 @cocohook38 @killian-whump <3

The Less Clan healer’s alcove was not nearly as cozy as that of the First. Killian did not see any beds, or even seating, for that matter. Patch’s limited supplies were gathered at the base of a dead tree. Killian found a flat spot by the wall and dropped heavily to the ground. Patch tossed a ball of fluffy plant fibers, dripping with disinfectant, in Killian's direction, then pointed at the stiff stain of blood on his upper leg. Wincing, he reached forward and scooped it into the bloodstained claw his hand had become. Minerals dissolved in solution began a chemical reaction within his open wounds, its bubbles like boiling water poured all over his palm. Growling, Killian dropped the fibers into position covering the tooth punctures in his thigh, and the vigorous fizz soon had that area similarly aflame.

Killian sat back, closing his eyes and grinding his teeth. It would be easier to bear if it had any meaning, but as it was, he had gained nothing but more injuries to add to his extensive collection… some serious, potentially even life-altering. He was no closer to rescuing Puzzle and thus could take no solace in possibly getting one step closer to Alice. Frustration offered no balm, only salt rubbed into throbbing wounds. 

Killian bit back a yelp as Patch began scrubbing roughly at his mutilated palm, which was no more than he had expected from an enemy caretaker, but still felt like Hellfire seeping its way down to the bone. Those long hours spent under Mandible’s paws seemed like pure bliss compared to this. 

“I am sorry,” murmured Patch with surprising sympathy. “You will thank me later.” 

“Maybe,” Killian grunted, trying not to squirm. “I am a bit partial to this hand. Would prefer not to lose it.” 

Patch dipped her cloth into fresh disinfectant and resumed her task. “I cannot promise anything.”

Some excruciating length of time later, the scrubbing gave way to that unique red-hot shock that could only belong to one thing: the helpless insect he was growing too familiar with. Through the squeezing heat of its venom, Killian heard the quiet crunch as its body disappeared between Patch’s jaws. 

“You may have the next one,” offered Patch. 

With gritted teeth, Killian shook his head. “No thank you.” 

Eating insects always stirred up unpleasant memories of desperate times. And he was too woozy to be hungry at the moment anyway. Still, considering how much of a delicacy Patch’s species considered them to be, it was kind of her to offer. Killian risked a quick glance at the next struggling ant, just to confirm its identity. 

“I was under the impression that your rivals were the only clan to use Warrior Ants in their healing arts.” 

It wasn't a particularly important question, but it gave him something to take his mind off of the ruins of his hand he’d just glimpsed. Patch carefully applied the next set of jaws.

“Mandible told you that?” 

“Yes…” He thought for a moment, then amended, “Actually, it may have been along the lines of his being the one to perfect the technique.”

“That is closer to what he told me as well.” 

“You've spoken to him?” 

Killian had thought that the animosity between the two clans would prevent any casual contact between their members. To his surprise, Patch said, 

“I learned most of my healing skills from him.” 

Figuring that any additional intelligence about clan dynamics could be used to his advantage, Killian asked, 

“How did that come about?” 

The Less healer glanced up at his face in brief hesitation before responding. “I was born to the First Clan and discovered my purpose there. Mandible is a good instructor, and it was only after he taught me all he knew that I became the chief healer of the Prime Clan.” 

“And what made you decide to switch sides?” 

Patch set aside her container of ants and opened a pouch containing bandaging material. “Our Chieftains arranged a trade. The Prime had just lost their only healer, and the First needed a skilled metal forger.”

Killian had been watching the monkey's face but lacked the ability to read complex emotions. Thus, he could not tell how Patch felt about the situation. 

“Were you given any sort of say in this trade?” 

Patch waited until her bandaging job was underway before answering slowly. “Favor willed it so.” 

Killian managed to turn a derisive scoff into an only slightly exaggerated grunt of pain. “Just because someone is in authority over you, it doesn't mean they have your best interests in mind. Quite often, the opposite is true.” 

Patch said nothing and Killian did not press the issue. A moment of silence elapsed, then he sighed. 

“I suppose you’re completely loyal to your new clan now. Considering the infallible wisdom of the two chieftains. You couldn't possibly have retained any sense of belonging to the family who raised you. Not a dutiful servant such as yourself.” 

Patch would not meet his gaze. Killian allowed himself to feel a glimmer of hope and tried a gentler tone. “You couldn't be blamed for not feeling the same animosity. Especially if you still have friends on the other side. Look, surely you don't condone this whole kidnapping business, after having been through something like it yourself.” 

With nimble paws, Patch secured the bandage and sat back on her haunches. She glanced over her shoulder, then said, 

“My opinion does not matter.” 

Killian lowered his voice, even though there was no other being in sight.

“You're the only one who might be able to help! You know I don't stand a chance against Quake; not like this.” He indicated his freshly bandaged hand and winced. Patch remained motionless, and Killian dared to believe he saw indecision in her eyes. 

“Think back to when you were first brought here,” he urged. “You must have felt so frightened and alone; I know I would have. It couldn't have been easy, knowing you may never see your friends or family again. Do you really want to leave Princess Puzzle to that same fate? Or arguably worse, considering her intended role?” 

Patch's coppery fur puffed out in a sudden shiver, and she busied herself once again among the tools of her trade.

“Of course not,” she hissed, eyes averted. “But what can I do? Lack would never listen to me. If I spoke up, it would only anger him, and that would make life very difficult for me.”

“I wouldn’t ask that of you,” Killian assured her, trying and failing to find a comfortable position in which to rest his hand. “Perhaps just some information; something I could have found out on my own if I’d had enough time. Doesn’t have to be anything that could be traced back to you. I would be grateful for anything at this point.” He raised an eyebrow and flashed what he hoped was an encouraging smile at her. “So… what do you say?”

Patch had turned her attention to the bites on his leg, tending them through a rip in his trousers, and she did not answer immediately. When she did begin speaking, she kept her volume to a level just barely audible.

“The princess is under guard at the edge of the marshland to the south of here. Chief Lack is fiercely possessive and does not trust the rest of the clan to be in easy contact with her, so she will be kept out of the way until she is mature enough that he can claim her. If you could manage to defeat her guards, it’s likely you would not meet much resistance all the way to the edge of Prime territory. Hardly anyone ventures into the marshes. Predatory and venomous reptiles call that place home.”

Killian did not relish the thought of another confrontation, but with all the references to “escorts” and “guards,” he knew it was all but inevitable. “Do you know how many are guarding her?”

“My best guess, only two at a time. They will be formidable warriors, but female. No cause for a jealous chieftain to worry.”

Killian nodded slowly, calculating. He would learn the way there whenever he was granted his request to visit Puzzle. They would be more alert to trouble at that time, but perhaps he could steal away later in the evening… that, of course, would mean navigating unfamiliar and hostile territory in the dark, without a map… what were the chances the princess would know the way home?

“There is a secret trail through the marshlands,” Patch said hesitantly. “As a young First scout, I would accompany a group of warriors to spy on the Prime, using the marshes as our route in and out. You only need to travel in a straight line between the stripe-barked trees, and there will be solid ground beneath the mud.” 

She began winding a bandage around his thigh, adding, 

“I do not believe the Prime are aware of this path. The final tree, the one up on solid ground… it points the way to a Stone Forest entrance within First territory. Head northwest a short distance and you will come to the border where you first encountered the Prime sentries earlier today. From there, you can simply retrace your steps to return Princess Puzzle to her family.”

“Easy enough,” replied Killian, already so exhausted from merely thinking about the journey. Travel through the treacherous bog would require at least some daylight, so a night-time rescue was out of the question. “Are there no sentries at the other end of the marsh?”

“There is always a risk, wherever you are along the border.” She tied a secure knot on the bandage, then reached up to pull his shirt away from the scratches adorning his ribs. He did his best to assist, using his stump to hold his shirt out of the way while she applied the abrasive antiseptic to the scratches. 

Now that he knew where the princess was being held, perhaps he would not need to stage the rescue while in his current state. He could bring his findings to the First, wait to regain the use of his hand, then return using the back way through the marsh for a more capable rescue. Even if the First clung to their stubborn beliefs about interference and refused to accompany him, at least he would stand more of a chance against the pair of Less guards. It would mean a longer imprisonment for Puzzle, which would be unfortunate, but probably worth it if it meant a greater chance of success. However… all of this depended on the Less keeping their word and letting him go the next morning. And he had already learned not to take their promises at face value. 

“Tell me, Patch... what do you think the chances are that I'm truly set free in the morning?”

She ducked her head slightly, ears flattening in an almost cringing motion. “They will keep their word. You will be escorted from here and released into First territory. Then…”

She trailed off, and it didn’t really need to be said. Killian closed his eyes and allowed his head to rest back against the wall. “Fair game?” 

“I am sorry,” she confirmed. “The Torn are not worthy of the gods’ attention. Chief Lack’s misleading of you will not provoke their wrath.” 

Killian sighed. “I was a bloody fool, thinking I could come in here and do some good for once. So, in summary: in the morning, I could choose to release the princess only for me to remain behind to be eaten, ensuring that she would be recaptured swiftly. I could leave her behind, take my chances with the entire Prime Clan, and if by some miracle, I managed to escape, sneak back through the lizard-infested swamp to attempt to break her out when I'm stronger. Or, I could make my move today when I'm escorted to visit her, while everyone is on high alert for just such a thing and I have no usable hands and a similar measure of reserve strength. Would you say that's an accurate assessment of my three equally terrible options?” 

Patch put the finishing touches on her dressing, stopped to scratch her back with a hind paw, then paused, deep in thought. Killian watched her with one eye slitted open. 

“Wait here,” she finally said, then dashed off. Alone with scattered thoughts and pains old and new, Killian heaved a quiet groan as he attempted to rest. His hand throbbed unbearably, feeling three sizes too big, and the pressure from the bandage offered little relief. He tried wiggling each finger in turn, and the only partial victory came with a feeble twitch of his pinky. He winced and gave up.

“Oh Alice,” he sighed. “Your papa is not nearly as clever, brave, or strong as either of us believed. You deserve so much better.”

Some white knight he was. Bloody white elephant, more like. How many times had he counseled her to never give up, to believe in herself and her dreams of freedom? Too many to number, surely. If she could see him now, this bloodied, defeated mockery of the example he’d always endeavored to be for her, she would be met with the reality he had so naively sought to deny: he was not father material, and never had been. His upbringing and a long life of depravity had corrupted his soul, and the love he felt for her was not enough to compensate. It would have always come to this, sooner or later. Captain Hook deserved only suffering, and he’d been a fool to hope for a happy ending.

But… even if he didn’t deserve happiness, certainly Alice did? As much as it felt like the universe was conspiring to make him fail, he had to believe that Alice’s innocence would add weight to the opposite end of the scale. He tried to envision her adoring smile in an effort to wipe away the imagined disappointment that had festered a little bit more deeply inside with each additional failure. He needed to take his own encouragement to heart. 

Mindset is everything, he recited at the vision of his daughter. 

Everything starts with belief, the memory of her voice chimed in. And he swallowed his pain, drowned the discouragement, and met the eyes of a returning Patch with weary resolve.

“I have informed Chief Lack that you require one hour’s rest before you visit the princess,” Patch told him. “I can mix a draught that will boost your energy for a short period, but it will work better if you have a chance to relax first.”

She stopped nearby, clutching a small pouch and looking Killian over once again. Silent, he nodded his assent. Patch scoured their surroundings for any sign of eavesdroppers, then she lowered her voice.

“Now. This is the course of action I would advise you to take…”

[matsunoart]

7/8 How you met Vox 💻

I made a quiz on Qouetv about who would take you under their wing in hazbin hotel!

If you want to see who you got check it out here!

Alongside each character I wrote a mini fic explaining how you met! So here's Vox’s!! Btw these can be seen as romantic or platonic whatever fits more!

Fic below ⬇️

🔌 Reposts & Notes are appreciated!

With having nothing else to do, you decide to go back to scouring the internet. There has to be something around here. Some sort of video, compilation, link, something! Out of desperation, you click on this highly suspicious link. You feel an electric shock go through your body before blacking out.  When you wake up, you are met with walls upon walls of televisions, laptops, keyboards, wires, you name it you see it. You blink open your eyes before sitting up on the messy blanket pile, which may you add is not comfortable. 

"Well good hellish morning to you newcomer."

Your eyes look over to see a demon...? no, that's a talking television. You squint at him, as he grins cockily. 

"Ah surprised to see THE Vox from VoxTek-"

"Who are you?"

"..."

"..."

"..Eh?"

"Never mind, Just how did I get here?"

Vox's smile drops for a brief moment before pointing at one of the monitors. 

"You somehow got yourself trapped over here in the electrical current to one of my cameras. So I came to drag you out. You must have clicked some suspicious link to something.."

"Ah fucking hell, must've been when I was looking for a place to stay.." You mutter to yourself.

You push the blanket to the side and look around. "Isn't it a waste of electricity to have this many monitors around?"

The Tv-demon's smirk is back on his face, "Well when you own all the electricity flows, that's not much of a problem."

"So, you're like the Elon Musk of hell. Have you started creating AI too?"

The TV demon's brows furrow, but a smile still plasters on his face.

"AI? Elon Musk?"

You place your hand on your hip.

"Artificial intelligence? You know, technology becoming able to do things humans....or well demons, can do."

I'm sorry if anything seems 0OC, I haven't written Vox before, but I hope you enjoyed!

Lowkey Vox is my fav character in the show idk why he’s just an idiot and I love him

Also mans died in 1950, Elon musk was born in 1970, & AI technology while being a thing then wasn’t widespread.

I just feel like once he gets c.ai he’s gonna make an alastor bot realllll fast.

[practically-an-x-man]

what's YOUR favorite first kiss scene/romance scene you've ever written? :)

Oooh man, that's a tough one! There are a lot of moments I like, and for me it also really depends on the context surrounding the scene.

I really like Ophelia and Peter's first kiss, it's very emotionally-charged (they're from different universes, and Ophelia is worried she'll die when she gets sent back because there's nothing they can do to protect her from her laboratory explosion, it's just random chance):

“Olly…” he whispered, so caught up in his thoughts that he found himself reaching for her hand. She jerked it away. “Don’t do this, Peter.” she told him, voice stern and yet somehow wavering. She took a step back - a small step, but it put some much-needed space between them. She swallowed hard, then spoke again. The tremor in her voice had grown more pronounced. “Don’t start this. We both know it won’t end well.” Until about fifteen seconds ago, he wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to start this. Or even consider it. His mind had been at war: genuine intrigue and, let’s face it, attraction to Olly versus his still-unresolved grief over Gwen. It felt like a disservice to even consider dating someone else, even after almost ten years. Then there was the part of his mind that questioned whether he had a type or was just looking for some kind of replacement: after all, they were both intelligent, funny, scientific women, the similarities were clear. There was just too much contention in his mind to make a decision. That is, until he learned he might not get a second chance. It seemed like Olly had learned to read his mind, or maybe she’d just seen something in his expression. She seemed to be good at reading people, after all.  “I’m sorry you lost Gwen. Really, I am. I know what it feels like to have a list of people you’ve lost,” she said, “Don’t add me to your list, Peter. Please. It’s best if we just… just let this go, okay?” “Is that what you want?” he asked, his mouth once again moving faster than his brain, “To let this go?” Ophelia dropped her eyes to the floor with a grimace, muttering so quietly under her breath that he practically had to lip-read to catch any of it. And he mostly missed what was said, though it sounded like something along the lines of “goddamn puppy-dog eyes”. In the next second, she’d grabbed the lapel of his lab coat in one hand and had shoved him back against the wall. Peter’s back hit the concrete, and his eyes went wide- how had he managed to misread the situation so badly? His mind was already jumping into Spidey-mode, trying to come up with some sort of defense to this unplanned attack, and then- And then her lips were on his, and all his thoughts cut off.  Well. He liked this a lot better than an ambush. Before he had time to process his next move, Ophelia had pulled back and released her grip on his coat. Peter felt strangely dazed, like her scent of machine oil and citrusy shampoo had struck some sort of spell on him. He took a deep breath, trying to clear his head before he did something stupid like tripping over his own feet or trying to kiss her again. Olly sighed, passing a hand over her face. Her skin was flushed, and she took another, strangely clumsy step back. Her violet Converse squeaked against the linoleum floor. Every sound seemed somehow enhanced, louder than it should have been. It felt like the first time he’d come into his Spidey-powers, before he’d adjusted to his enhanced senses. “That’s… that’s what I wanted,” Ophelia said, sounding forlorn, “But we both know it’s something I can’t have.”

But I also really like Quinn and Billy's first kiss - again, it's better with the wider context of the fic. Quinn's in love with him and has been for years, but he's been dating another woman (though inwardly, he's also in love with Quinn and has only just realized it). Fun fact: right after this scene, Billy's other girlfriend catches them in the act, and proceeds to drop them 12 stories off a building during the mission.

“I’ll go let the others know the plan, then,” Billy said, starting to move towards the door, “You still getting ready? Need anything?” “Nah, I’m okay. Be down in a sec.” He made his way to the corner of the room before Quinn spoke up again.  “Wait, Billy?” “Hmm?” “Be careful.” they advised, rubbing at the back of their neck, “When you’re in there, be careful. This whole thing just… it gives me the wrong vibe. And I know you don’t like the whole ‘luck’ thing, but-” He never let them finish. Quinn was so caught in their speech that they hadn’t noticed him crossing the room, not until he pressed his palm to the wall behind them and they realized he’d boxed them into a corner. His eyes were locked on hers, emerald-green irises centered by pools of endless dark. Quinn couldn’t look away.  “But?” Billy repeated, his voice rumbling low almost in warning. It should have been a warning. Another time, the logical side of Quinn’s brain would remind her that he had a girlfriend, that they’d been dating for years, that she was just downstairs and could return any moment. But the logical side of Quinn’s brain appeared to have shut off entirely. “But… um, I…” she tried, her throat gone dry.  Billy leaned closer, impossibly closer. He was enjoying this, maybe a little too much. And maybe, past the pounding of their heart and the clouds brewing in their mind, Quinn found themself the same. “For luck?” Billy whispered, green eyes still glinting dangerously. They were convinced, then, that he was of the Unseelie Court. He was a Fae, come to take her name and her voice, to put her under his spell, to leave her lost and wandering. Well, she said, Take it. That name never belonged to me anyway.  She closed the gap, and the world fell away.

Quinn's and Billy's relationship dynamic is really fun to write every time, not just their first kiss. It's kind of hard to describe, but they were incredibly close friends and teammates for years before pursuing romance, so they still act like friends even after falling outrageously deep in love.