#i dashed this off and I'm afraid it's not very good but i had to try

[cailindistara]

Hanger tangle

it's just a hanger it's just a hanger

it's just a hanger

it's just a

mantra

for when they get tangled and my frustration

rises to the actual boiling point and

sometimes

a hanger or two has to die to satiate my fury

@poppiesandpromises

#original poem #poetry #poetry prompts #i dashed this off and I'm afraid it's not very good but i had to try #it was fun though #hangers are the devil

[yutaleks]

let me out, I'm starving

yuuta x female reader, length: 4.0K CWs: yandere // reader and Nobara are eating food // explicit sex // allusions to rough sex/roleplay A/N: This is a repost but I have combined it with another post and edited it so this is much longer than the original post I made on my old blog. banner by @/cafekitsune.

Part of Wolf In Sheep’s Clothing series

“He what?”

You wince as you’re met with Nobara’s screech right beside you, and choose to ignore her outcry coupled with the clattering of dropped chopsticks. You punctuate your willful silence with another mouthful of noodles, and Nobara continues to gape at you with an accusatory stare.

It’s “girls night” as she so eloquently (forcefully) declared naught but a few minutes ago, showing up to your shared apartment with takeout and a mission. 

Said mission? 

Getting you to quit seeing that situationship of yours, Yuuta Okkotsu.

It’s not that he is a bad guy per se; he’s incredibly polite, with a voice and countenance so sweet and timid anyone would find him charming. But he gives Nobara the creeps. She swears if you ever turned up missing, his basement would be the first place to check. 

(The second time she said that to you, your first thought was to wonder if his basement wasn’t so bad a place to be).

You don’t have it in you to confront the fact that she’s right: Yuuta is weird. 

Outwardly, there wasn't actually anything weird about him when you first met. He's handsome—not 'People Magazine's Top 100 Sexiest Men' handsome, but handsome enough to get your attention. He dressed inconspicuously, stuck to the back of classrooms, and kept mostly to himself. But he had friends, that much you knew from the times you'd seen him around. And he was always kind: opening doors for you, offering you a smile, and later sticking around and chatting with you as acquaintances would, once you got more friendly. He wasn't exactly serial killer material; not to the exaggerated level that Nobara had placed him in the very first time you ever mentioned an interest in him. Sure he was a bit of a loner, but that wasn't a crime.

It took a few more intimate encounters for you to find that Nobara's intuition wasn't far off. Despite her disinterest in them, she's never wrong about men, it seems.

It’s the eyes. 

He has this stare that roots you in place, that makes the bones beneath your skin feel like the layers around them aren’t thick enough to hide away from him. You wonder if he can see the reds and yellows of your bone marrow beneath the layers of compacted calcium. 

Just that deep, endless blue looking down at you makes your knees too weak to stand. As confident a person as you are, you're reduced to a newborn fawn, struck down to the earth with no strength in its feet. Those first few moments where you're bare beneath him it's like you've never taken a step and are too afraid to. But the fear has never pushed you away—in fact, it’s only drawn you nearer to him, your body a willing addict as it asks for more, more, more. 

It's like a person who's afraid of heights becoming addicted to skydiving. The fear is there, it's heavy on your chest when you look down and out of the plane. But you come back and make the jump—over and over, the adrenaline and fear a nitrous; an incredible blood rush.

Perhaps any other prey animal would feel skittish in the presence of a predator such as him, even if he's tamed. But it doesn’t work on you, not entirely. He makes your skin crawl but your heart race, like watching a horror movie from the comforts of the sticky, dirty seats of a cheap movie theater. The seats aren’t remotely comfortable but the movie’s too good to tear your eyes away.

Besides, you wouldn't get up and dash out of a movie theater for being scared. The threat is contained. The movie isn't real, no matter how much adrenaline rushes through your veins—at least, your mind is convinced that it can't hurt you. Because the serial killer or the scary zombie in the screen can't jump out at you, can't actually harm you... can it?

Anyway, that’s what it feels like to be with Okkotsu Yuuta. 

Everything he does seems to be both gentle and intense, purposeful and impertinent, yet mindful and considerate. Like he's apologetic for taking up space, for existing, but not so for feeling. He's unapologetically a bleeding heart, and he offers it to you. It makes for a dangerous combination—a man with no self-preservation, but the most intense hunger imaginable. More than once had he compared his desire for you to starving. And you believe him, having felt the intensity of his feelings in the strength of his grip and the bite of his teeth.

He’s never done anything to truly make you fear for your life—but you don’t doubt that he could.

“He asked me to marry him,” you repeat the words after you swallow your noodles. The phrase feels like a foreign language on your tongue, sounds like your speaking through the bottom of a glass bottle. It doesn’t feel real when you say it aloud, not like it felt when he whispered them to you this morning over your shoulder.

“He’s fucking insane,” Nobara guffaws, incredulous. Like it’s the most ridiculous thing she’s ever heard. “You’re not even dating him.”

“I don’t think he cares,” you reply. There’s this weird grin on your face, to Nobara’s horror. Are you even entertaining something so—

“He should. He should ask you to date him—”

“Well we—”

“—do normal shit like going out to dinner or something—”

“But he does take me out—”

“—get down on one knee—no, both his knees—”

“Nobara.”

“—first he needs to beg you for forgiveness for all those fucking bruises—”

“But I—”

“—Then, he needs to promise to stay a hundred feet away from you for at least a year—”

“Nobara, that’s ridiculous. I—”

She holds up a finger. “I’m not done.”

Your shoulders sag as she continues:

“You need at least a year of dating normal guys to remember what normal, not potential serial killer men are like. And then maybe I’ll allow him to breathe the same air as you again. Maybe.”

"He's harmless."

She quirks a brow in silence.

"Okay maybe not harmless, but he never did anything I didn't agree to."

That’s a bit of a lie, but Nobara doesn’t need to know that.

"You know," she starts, as she picks up her chopsticks and starts picking up another pinch of noodles, "You were so innocent before you ever let crazy stick itself between your legs. Normal."

"I resent that."

"It's true!" She stuffs the noodles into her mouth, but continues talking. You've seen each other at rock bottom, so she's way past something as small as talking with her mouth full. "Before Okkotsu you hadn't even shown a guy your tits before. You were a virgin when you met him! Now he's got your wrists tied to his bed and got you calling him nii-san—"

You flush, "That was one time!"

"He's fucking weird! The hickeys you come home with are nasty, dude. What if he's a fucking vampire?"

"That'd be kind of hot."

"You're beyond saving," she sighs into her noodle carton. "No man's dick is that good." When you're silent for more than a beat, she groans. "Okay, even if it is, he's, like, two steps away from chaining you to a radiator or something. Some Ted Bundy shit,"

"That would never happen," you shrug, digging into your noodles once more, "Why would he wanna date me so bad if he just wanted to do some shit like that?"

"He'll Stockholm syndrome you into it. Don't call me when he's got you tied to a toilet."

You chuckle. "You don't know him, okay? He can be a little intense but he's harmless. Devoted, even."

She rolls her eyes. "Yeah, yeah, spare me the story about him eating you out the entire night on the first date, okay. I refuse to be jealous of you and him."

"It was amazing though," you grin like a fool. "I think he's more into eating pussy than sex."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. Okkotsu supposedly being the world's number one munch aside—" she ignores your chuckling, "—what did you tell him when he said that?"

"What, the marriage thing?" She nods, and there's a snap and fizzing sound as she opens a can of beer. "He was literally balls deep in me, what was I supposed to say?"

"Uh, push him off and run the fuck home, maybe? Anyone with sense would," she retorts as she takes a sip of her beer. 

"But I like him."

That has her spitting out her beer dramatically. She is one for theatrics sometimes. "I thought you said you'd never date him."

"I've always liked him! He's just... intense, you know? It put me off before but..."

"But?"

Your thoughts fall back to the early hours of this morning, right before the whole 'marry me' sex thing, when you'd woken up first and got a glimpse of his sleeping face. His lips parted just a little, locks of black strewn across his forehead, an innocence about him that made all those intense, scary moments feel trivial. An unconscious arm around your waist as you cuddled up to his chest, prey safe in the arms of its captor. He'd never hurt you, he'd keep you safe—a feeling as soothing as it is addicting.

You find yourself just as wanting of moments like those as you are of the thrill. Is there ever a moment that you haven't wanted to be in Yuuta's grasp?

As soon as his body began to twitch awake, eyes slowly blinking the sleep away, you had turned over and faced away from him, embarrassed at the way your stomach felt like worms when he stirred to life. The arm around your waist tightened, pulling you closer.

"You stayed."

His voice was thick with sleep, his warm breath fanning against the nape of your neck. Judging by the still dark sky beyond the windows, you'd maybe only fallen asleep for an hour or two. Your eyes widened at the realization that, despite sleeping together for several months, this was indeed the first time you'd slept in his bed after sex. It was what later prompted Nobara's 'intervention' of sorts: her fears that whatever you were doing with Yuuta had reached a point of no return.

"Is that," you paused to clear the sleep from your throat, "Is it okay that I stayed?"

"I always ask you to," he rubbed his palm up the curve of your side. "You can stay in my bed forever," he muttered as he kissed the bruise on your neck, a bite he'd left just a little while ago turning dark as the blood under the skin pooled. "You know I wouldn't mind."

"Yuuta." you angled your head as he continued to mouth at your neck. The way you said his name felt like a warning. Perhaps 'Down dog' would've had the same effect.

"I know," he leaned closer to your back, shameless as his length, hardened, pressed against the back of your thighs. "I'm a little stubborn though... and patient. For you, at least. I'll wait until you say yes."

He always said it like it was inevitable. The question of you agreeing to be with him, for more than just sex, was never a matter of if, but when.

And when he soon after pushed you down gently, propped your hips on one of his pillows, and fucked you lazily from behind as you hid your flustered face into your arms, he wondered if he'd finally had you. Because if he was stubborn you were downright impossible, always immediately rebuking his advances with an 'I'm not ready for a relationship right now' or some similar excuse. To which he'd tuck his tail between his legs and brush off the rejection, man up, and fuck you like he owed you the best night of your life—every fucking time.

But today no such rejection came. He said he'd wait until you'd say yes and you didn't say no. When he soon after had caged in your body with his, his body entirely surrounding yours as he pressed you into his bed, he'd gotten carried away, spurred on by your first lack of rejection in months.

"I wanna marry you," he'd told you as he grinded his hips into your backside. The angle in this position was incredible, you had to bite down on your arm to stop from moaning awfully loud. Yuuta wished you would. "I can't stand the thought of anyone else doing this with you. I think I'd kill them."

"Yuuta," you moan his name into his mouth, and it always sets him off to hear you say it. "D-don't joke around like-like that."

Despite your words, you didn't think he was kidding.

And, you realized, you didn’t think you minded if he wasn’t.

A sound, something like a laugh, or maybe a breath of relief, tumbled out of his throat when you squeezed down on him in response. He'd angled your head to the side, to kiss you roughly, full of bite. You returned his kiss as his words made you a combination of afraid and excited. Would you ever get tired of the feeling?

Yuuta was like a rabid dog collared, restrained only by your previous rejections, and for a moment you wanted to know what all of him felt like. What would a Yuuta Okkotsu be like if he were set free, if he were given the ability to satiate this hunger? Would he finally consume you whole, or would he stop baring his raw, beating heart so desperately and relent?

"I'm not joking," he pulled back a little, just to rest his head against your nape. Every word felt hot as his breath warmed the skin between your shoulder blades. "Wanna be with you—marry you and everything. Whatever you want, I'll do. I don't care how it sounds, I just—"

"It sounds crazy," you replied, not a hint of malice in your words.

"I know, I—"

“I like you, Yuuta.” You interrupted what was sure to be another round of ramblings from him about how badly he wants to be with you. You’d heard it so many times, and slowly but surely each attempt had helped his feelings worm themselves deeper and deeper into your guarded heart.

He, who had you pinned down to the bed under him as he fucked you from behind, tensed up at your confession.

"Just... slow down a little, okay? Dating comes first. Do it properly, yeah?”

“What?” He completely stopped everything, pulling out and sitting on his knees absolutely star-struck.

You turned around underneath him and matched his posture, finding yourself breaking out into a smile at his look of surprise. Of all the things, this was what broke him?

"I like you… I think about you doing this with someone else and get jealous too… you scare me a little, but I like you. But we should date first, I think." 

His lips started to turn up into an incredulous smile. "Can I... be your boyfriend, then?”

In a voice that’s a little too playful to be considered scolding, you replied, ”Will you stop talking about killing people if I say yes?”

Among all the things he’s said to you, about how badly he wants to marry you or how many kids he’d give you, what stood out in your mind was the way he said he’ll kill anyone who stood in his way. But could someone who blushes as hard as he was blushing at that moment, possibly take a life with his bare hands?

He nodded, suddenly feeling sheepish. You’d turned him into a whole different person, practically.

“Then yes… I want you to be my boyfriend. And you can’t be my boyfriend from prison if you kill people.”

He laughed—god, of all things, he couldn’t stop laughing. His arms reached out to you and he cradled your jaw in his big palms. He leaned into you, and even when he kissed you he was laughing, giggling like a fool. Disbelief surrounded the love that made his heart ram against his ribs, and the feeling left him so incredulous he could only laugh.

“I can, as long” kiss “as I” kiss “don’t get caught.” kiss 

He could barely keep his lips off of yours, and as his kisses became deeper, you found yourself being pushed back down into his bed, facing him this time. You wrapped your arms around his neck and let him slot himself between your legs. He held himself up by the forearms, and as his nose brushed against yours, the ends of his hair falling across your cheeks, his eyes found yours again. They were still as captivating as ever.

“Do you really mean it? You have feelings for me?”

His stare was intense, like he was searching for any sign of deception in yours. He found none.

“Yes, I mean it, Yuuta… I really do.”

It’s impossible to explain, even to yourself. How his obsessive feelings somehow had fueled your own—how you spent the days leading up to this seeping in jealousy at the mere thought of anyone else being in the position that you were in now. It made no sense, falling for someone like Yuuta—who’d stalked you, hurt others around you—but somehow it made all the sense in the world.

He slotted his lips against yours again, in a kiss that was absolutely smoldering. He was intense, as always, but it felt different too. An arm hooked around your thigh, hiking it up to his waist, and without even breaking the kiss he quite easily slid his cock back into you, picking up where you’d left off moments before your confession. You moaned against his lips as you lifted your other leg, hooking it around his other side, and felt yourself being pushed up as he carved himself into you once again. Could anyone else mold themselves into you so perfectly the way he does? Would anyone else even be given the chance to try?

“I love you,” he said, forehead pressed against your own. It was not the first time he had said it, nor will it be the last, but certainly it was the first time you’d ever accepted it wholly into your heart. “Please—tell me you love me,” he begged against the throbbing pulse of your throat. He sounded like he would fall apart if you didn’t say it, his soul so weakly held together by his feelings for you.

You’ve come to accept it as a part of him: that as long as Yuuta Okkotsu loves you, you are his entire world.

And right at that moment caged under his arms and pinned down by his gaze, it felt like he was your entire world, too.

“I love y—oh,” you were cut off by your own gasp as every ounce of his strength was suddenly hooked under your knees, pushing your thighs flat to your chest, weighing you down and robbing you of your breath. A whine, like a dying animal, escaped your lips as your body was kneaded and contorted in his heavy palms, pliable like dough. The way he touched you, fucked you—it was so different from before. He’d always done it with a desperation to please you, to convince you that he’s worthy of your love. But now that he had it, he wanted every last drop, and planned to pry it out of you himself.

“Again,” you crossed your ankles at his nape, toes curling as his pelvis made contact with your body. “Say it again—pleaseplease—“

“I love you,” you told him—though it’s less spoken word and more an exhale, your lungs were barely able to take in a breath with the weight that lay on your chest. “S-so don’t—don’t hurt anyone,” you gasped. “I’m right here, Y-Yuuta,” you implored him, eyes wet with unshed tears.

“Thank you,” he breathed into your mouth—for what you were doing was less kissing, and more trading breaths. Your nails dug into the meat of his shoulders, nails like grappling hooks as you hung on for your life. You squeezed down on him, enamored with the beautiful, pitiful strain in his voice, and he smiled. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

You’d never felt closer to God in your life.

“I’ve loved you for so long,” he started to mumble, the words barely perceptible to you. His thrusts onto your body didn’t stop, in fact, they only got messier, needier. “So many times I thought you’d let someone else in—someone who wasn’t me—“ he pried your fingers off his shoulders, the bloodied crescents marking his skin. He pinned your hands down to the bed, his fingers slotting perfectly in-between, and squeezed hard enough to tempt your digits to bursting, leaving nothing but bone. “But it had to be me—who else can love you like I do?”

He paused long enough for you to open your eyes, to look into his, so glazed over with lust and devotion that there was no other answer to give. “N-No one—ah—No—“

“I know,” he pressed his forehead to yours as your legs fell to his sides, his eyes closing in rapture. “No one else.”

Was that the side of him that you always refused to see? The rabid animal that keeps itself trained, claws at bay; the raw, unfiltered strength that lies in every inch of his body masked by the tenderness he holds for you. You love it, despite how much you shouldn’t; you love every single fucking moment that this man is turned into an absolute lunatic over you. Perhaps you are just as bad as he is, for reveling in it and allowing him his moments of heresy.

Your brows drew together as you reeled in what could only be described as a whole-body experience: an orgasm that felt like every organ beneath your skin had been squeezed of its juices, pulp rendered and offered to him as you wailed into his mouth. He accepted it with an offering of his own, spilling himself into you when you kissed him. He kept his body as close to you as he could while he trembled, throbbed. His chest heaved against your own; and he kissed you so many times across your face you lost count, the waves and aftershocks of orgasm claiming you both until there was nothing but soft panting and the slightly awkward stare from his blushing, sweaty face.

Your stomach lurched at the sight. If only you could tell the you from a few months ago, the one who was so afraid of being with him, that the only thing to be afraid of is the thought of doing without such devoutness. 

To those who’d ask why you’d kept crawling back to Yuuta’s bedsheets, even after you’d learned the depth of his devotion: once you’ve had a taste of such fervent piety, it’s impossible to imagine a moment without it. 

Color pools over your cheeks as you sift through that memory, much later now, over noodles in front of your best friend Nobara.

"Yeah he's intense but I think it makes my boyfriend even cuter," you smile bashfully. “I don’t want him to feel like that for anyone else… I like that he’s crazy about me… is that weird?”

"Did you just say boyfriend?"

When you nod she shakes her head and groans.

"Fuck, you're just as insane as he is."

#jjk x reader #yuuta x reader #yuta okkotsu x reader #cw.yandere #every time I think about him and prone bone I just. claw at the walls yk #I’ll be reposting them as I edit them so just give me a bit for each one 🙏🏽 #yan!yuuta #writing tag

[acewithapaintbrush]

"My dad has the hots for your dad!"

Amity can only stare as Hunter slams his hands down on the table she is working at. He glares at her with narrow eyes and a mouth pressed firmly into a thin line. The perfect picture of determination and confidence. 

"What. Did you just say?" 

He immediately deflates at her pointed and icy tone. His hands leave her table and fidget with his overalls and hair instead while he squirms from side to side, eyes averted and cheeks blushing. 

"I-uhm. I read that in one of Mama Camila's books. It- well, I mean, it means-" 

Amity cuts him off. "I know what it means. Didn't Camila forbid you from reading them?" 

Them being the small paperbacks with the half naked humans on the front. Usually a woman in distress with a very well built male, rescuing her from certain doom with wet hair and big abs. The first time Camila had caught Hunter reading one of them she'd almost burst a blood vessel and ripped it right out of his hands. 

"Nonononono," she had chanted and hugged a perplexed Hunter to her chest, carding a hand through his hair. "Those books are way too spicy for an innocent, cute boy like you!" 

Hunter huffs and puffs. "I'm an adult. She can't tell me what to read." At Amity's raised eyebrow he mutters "And she didn't find the one hidden under my mattress." 

He shakes his head and takes her shoulders to shake her a little. She allows it, 'cause she can see how agitated he is. "But that's not the point! Darius has… he likes your dad. As in like-like! And we gotta figure out how we feel about that." 

Amity thinks about Darius. The dashing rebel, who had been pulling the strings of an uprising in the shadows from the start. A headstrong abomination user. He would definitely be a big step up from Odalia, that's for sure. 

She imagines Darius as her father's new partner and discovers that she is more than okay with that. 

Amity is not naive. She knows her father needs a headstrong partner at his side, someone who is not afraid to take the reins in a relationship. Not like Odalia, who's taken that to mean that she should micromanage every facet of his life and turn him into someone he is not, but someone who reminds her father to eat and to leave work alone every once in a while. 

"I approve." Amity says and seeing Hunter's desolate expression narrows her eyes. "You got a problem with my dad?" 

"What?" Hunter lets her shoulders go as if they have burned him. "No, of course not! He's super cool! I just… Arrrrrg!" He rapidly runs his hands through his hair. "I just don't know if I can handle a second parental figure!"

"Uhhh."

He starts walking up and down in front of her, Waffles flying after him with happy little trills. "Things with Darius are good right now. He told me to call him Dad and it's… It's yeah, you know? But it's also a bit awkward sometimes, you know? The only father figure I ever had before… Well. And we are still trying to find our rhythm, you know? How am I supposed to deal with another parent right now?"

"Hunter!" Amity has to shout to get him to stop. She can't believe she is having this conversation right now. "Hunter. You do know that you have like, four parental adults in your life. Don't you?" 

He blinks at her and his blank face tells her everything she needs to know. She wants to face-palm so bad right now. "What?" 

Amity starts counting on her hand. "You call Camila Mama Camila." 

"Wha- But that's just-", he splutters. Amity talks right over him. 

"Eda calls you her Fledgling at least once a week and she and Raine are kinda a packaged deal. Grandma and Grandpa Clawthorne call you son so often, I don't even know if they know your real name. Every time Lilith fusses over your scars she mutters 'my poor boy' under her breath. And let's not forget Willow's parents who took one look at you and had the adoption papers ready." Amity looks at her hands, which have barely been enough to count on. "Oh look at that. Not four but eight, actually."

Hunter looks gobsmacked and not a little teary eyed. Amity pats his shoulders, just a little relieved that he has apparently forgotten about their parents budding romance over this new revelation. She'd rather not get involved in that for as long as possible. 

"Face it, Hunter. You are pretty much public son number one at this point." 

🐦🐦🐦🐦🐦

There is no reason for this except that I had the image of hunter saying "my dad has the hots for your dad" and me running with it

#the owl house #owl house #the owl house fanfiction #toh hunter #toh amity #the owl house hunter #the owl house amity #the owl house darius #the owl house alador #darius x alador #darius and hunter #aladarius

[ollieink]

𝐁𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐃!

childe x fem!reader ( wc 4.8k)

inspired by 'pretty poison' written by the very talented vent1k1n on ao3, literally so good. never thought strip russian roulette could be so smeggsy wtf.

𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒 | dead dove: do not eat, non-con, rough sex, size difference, bit of gunplay, spitting, forced orgasm, corruption, yandere undertones, threats of murder, childe is a menace, reader has a petite body, dash of angst, russian roulette, mafia alternate universe, betrayal, please don't read if you're not comfy with these themes.

"Tartaglia is heartless."

That's what papa's soldiers said after he asked for your hand in marriage. It was a way for both ruling families to finally come to terms. Some were against it, others hopeful. And you had to admit, Tartaglia was hypnotizing. You saw him from afar one time, two times, a couple of times—from across the bridge that separated papa’s territory from his. He was the ocean come alive, all the good and all the bad. When he crossed that bridge to meet you, everything people warned you about him burnt to the ground.

Your chest fluttered on the wedding night, but it wasn't what you thought or hoped it would be. Tartaglia merely wished you a good rest before departing to his room. Of course, this wasn't a marriage of love ( you'd gotten carried away in your fantasies ), but rather a strategic move on both mafia families. Even then, the painful sprout of thorns in your chest didn't go unnoticed. Maybe it did for him. Or perhaps he did notice and just didn't care.

Papa didn't want you seeing all the bad things he did, so violence was a thing that happened from a distance. It was the same with Tartaglia. He'd tell you to go to your room when his men came in for a meeting, reassure you everything was okay—that you didn't need to worry your pretty head off. Perhaps he truly cared about you ( even if it wasn't the starstruck love you hoped it to be ), and that fleeting period in your life was the happiest. That is until you peeked into the basement of his manor, and a pair of dead blue eyes looked back.

You’re not supposed to cry over a stupid boy.

The sky has given way for a thunderous storm. Loud cracks of thunder light up the city, matching your heart's ferocious churning as you think over and over again: why, why, why? It pours rain as you pound on various doors for refuge, but everyone knows better than to open them at this hour. Crossing the bridge is a death sentence; Tartaglia’s men are stationed there, and they'd surely capture you on sight.

Afraid that he’ll catch up, you run into the city’s emptiest corner—an unsuspecting alleyway where the city lights can't reach. There’s nothing but rubbish here: overflowing dumpsters, shattered alcohol bottles someone must've thrown in a drunk daze, vulgar graffiti on the walls. Buildings tower overhead, placed so close together only a few people can walk through at the same time. The path winds 'round and 'round. You aren't sure where you're going, as long as you get away from here.

More lightning cuts through the pouring sky, and amidst it, a sweet voice calls out for you.

“Darling~”

All the hairs on your body stand, and you run faster than ever before. He's still using that sickening term, as if you really do hold a special place in his heart. Even if it wasn't real, you were content being something he felt obligated to take care of—because you couldn't help the way your heart fluttered when his hand tightened over yours, how he looked standing bare feet in the ocean shoreline. And you were happy being just an afterthought to him. But this is too cruel for you.

"Come back to me, darling. I'm sorry if I scared you."

His footsteps are getting closer and closer.

The alley takes a quick turn, and what you see next crushes all hope of getting away. A wall.

No, no no no no.

There must be another way out, but everywhere you look is a dead end. When the heavy footsteps finally stop a few meters away, you turn around. With a violent crackle of thunder, light briefly fills the alley; it barely makes a dent in Ajax's dark blue eyes. The electric crashes through the sky reflect off the taut muscles—wet with rain—on his arms. His black shirt, soaked all the way through, clings tightly to indents of hard flesh on his torso. And a smile haunts his face, kind like you remember.

"Why are you running away from me?" Ajax takes a step closer and reaches out a tempting hand. It's his left one, and the two rings on it are evidence of your weak union. "Let's go home, my love." He beckons in that familiar, gentle tone he only used with you. It made you feel special, but now you know it's just a trick.

“Bastard!” You scream with all the broken pieces of your heart. “You were just using me! I saw what you did to my father’s men in your basement, what you said about killing me! It’s a low move, you know—to murder someone in their sleep.”

Your words stir a devilish grin from him, and all traces of sweet, sweet Ajax disappear in an instant. "Ah, so you heard that too." He steps closer again, and the cobblestone wall hits your back. "It's a shame, ya know. If you weren't so nosy, I would've let you alive for a bit longer. Maybe we could've had our first kiss on the lips too, hmm? Bet you would've liked that. I know I would—you were always so kind to me. A bit too kind."

"Get away from me! If papa finds out about this, he'll kill you!" you scowl, hoping to get some leverage over this situation. But Tartgalia is a proud man. He simply laughs, as if you're a child throwing a silly tantrum.

"Well, he isn't here right now is he? It's just you and me." As his hand lifts, a flash of lightning exposes a revolver nestled against his palm.

"Ajax. . . ?"

Even his name sounds unfamiliar. The remaining bits and pieces of your heart break, not instantly, but in a way that hurts much more—slow and agonizing, holding onto hope that you know doesn't exist.

Blue eyes sweep up your body, savoring your disheveled appearance under this stormy night. Your plush thighs look so squeezable, and oh, that teeny tiny waist that's just begging to be held down.

“Let’s play a little game. It'll be fun."

Despite his voice sounding playful, the cold smile twisting his mouth wrecks shivers through you. He opens the gun to reveal six bullets settled ominously inside. “Each piece of clothing you take off, I’ll get rid one bullet. You have ten minutes before I pull the trigger, darling. Let's see if you're alive then. And if you are, I'll let you go. Promise." He chuckles at the way your eyes widen fearfully; it’s just too adorable. “Go on, I’m waiting.”

There's no way you're going to listen to him. He already messed with you enough—from the wedding vows, the delicate cheek kisses, and late-night strolls along the beach. All of it was just a pretend game for him, and the thought boils your blood just as much as it hurts.

“That game's stupid. I’m not doing anything for you."

“So, you’re gonna play tough, eh?” Tartaglia hums, unbothered by your disobliging attitude. In fact, the smirk on his face gives you the impression that he enjoys it. He points the revolver aside, and with a spark, fires it. A shrill noise reverberates through the cramped alleyway, and you jolt as the bullet whizzes past your cheek. “I won’t miss next time.”

Angry tears sting the corner of your eyes. “You’re fucking disgusting."

"You have ten minutes, sweetie. Or would you rather just let me end it all for you right now? I promise it won't hurt." There's a slight pause, then Childe's grin widens even more. "Or perhaps you want to spend your last moments as husband and wife? I know we never got the chance to be really intimate."

He'll shoot you if you try to run. For a split second, you consider trying to reason with him. Maybe he really did feel something—even if it was the most empty-minded feeling that ever crossed his cold heart. But that hopeful thought quickly vanishes. Ajax doesn't exist. He never did.

Finally, with a long exhale, you hesitatingly begin to slip off one heel.

“Mmm, good girl.” He takes out one bullet, letting it clang against the floor and roll by your feet. His gaze feels sharp along, glued to every movement, every nook and cranny of your exposed skin. When you get the other heel off, Childe hums cheerfully and drops another bullet. Papa always told you to be brave, but you’re shaking uncontrollably under this heavy aura of death. Your fingers tremble as they loosen your dress, and when the ribbons slowly but surely come undone, all the silk cascades into a bundle of light pink. A slight sigh comes from Childe the moment your adorable, white undergarments are revealed—so untouched, so innocent. Your skin suddenly feels too uncomfortably tight under his heavily inspecting eyes.

Childe chuckles as you hug yourself ( to cover up and protect yourself from the stormy weather ). Seeing you like that—all vulnerable and small—it's just too cute. He lets go of another bullet, and it lands with a sharp ting.

"Come on, take it all off," he playfully orders.

It's a decision between pride or life—an easy option for most, but difficult when it ends up in your hands. "Go fuck yourself." When you make no effort to strip any more, merely scowling at him with dewy eyes, the blue-eyed man breaks into wild laughter.

“You’d rather die than let me see you naked? Ah, how cute, but. . .” He closes the metal cartridge, spins it, then lifts the gun back up to you. “I’d think twice if I were you.”

"If you lay a finger on me, papa won't let you get away!" you glare at him, but all it does is stir a snicker. Suddenly, Childe steps forward and kicks your knee out. You hit the floor coarse with wet dirt. “Hey—!” Tartaglia wastes no time listening to your protest. He carelessly turns you over with his shoe, then presses the underside of it onto your stomach—a sharp contrast to the way he always treated you like glass. It was that side of him you learned to love, not the heartless man everyone viewed him as. Perhaps if you'd been smarter, you would've seen right through him. How love is but a fool's game to him. And how it was always his plan to use you.

A flash of thunder lights up the sky behind him, and the rain falls harder.

Your face contorts with rage. “Fuck you!"

“Quite the dirty mouth for such a sweet girl," Childe coos, kneeling down to harshly grab your chin. "Haha, you look so cute when your cheeks are all pushed up like that."

He leans in, and suddenly, a pair of lips capture yours—sweet and creamy as if he just finished a glass of honey. His tongue breaks into the wet cavern of your mouth, exploring the darkest corners. You feel the metal of his piercing, how it presses against your tongue. Each groan he makes resonates deep within your chest. Determined to resist in any way you can, you bite down hard enough to split open his bottom lip.

Tartaglia jerks back with surprised laughter, dragging his pierced tongue over the blood. "I always expected you'd like it rough, darling. But it's fine—I like it too." As if taking your defiance as a challenge, he curls his hand into the back of your hair, and with a harsh tug, smashes your lips together in a desperate frenzy.

"Mmph!" The sheer force of his kiss muffles your voice. He forcefully pushes down your jaw, giving him enough room to shove his slithering tongue inside again. Saliva trickles down into your throat, and his mouth hums against yours; it urges you to amuse him more. You refuse at first, but as his disgusting saliva builds up from just how sloppy the kiss is, you're forced to take tiny gulps, and those gulps soon turn into hesitant swallows.

After a long moment, he finally pulls back. “That’s right. Drink it up, filthy little thing.” In a fit of rage, you spit on his face, and he recoils to wipe it off his cheek. Instead of seeing anger on his face, there's nothing but the flushed look of unhinged amusement. He suddenly jams his gun into your mouth, hitting the back of your throat, and you gag at the sudden intrusion. He hovers a finger over the trigger with a smirk on his face. “Wanna try that again?”

Tears blur your vision, but they're quickly blinked away. You won't let him win. You won't let this bastard get the better of you.

"That's what I thought." Childe moves the gun to the side of your head, showing exactly who's in charge. His other hand settles upon your pelvis; it nearly folds across the entire width. "So tiny. . ." You flinch as his touch moves lower, caressing all the subtle curves and dips of your flesh. "Ever been this intimate with anyone, darling?" He plays with the band of your panties, letting it smack against your hip after every tug. The ginger coos, as if your reaction was somehow an answer—the way you tremble, the way you glare at him with such lovely flushed cheeks. "Mmm, guess not. But that makes it more exciting, right?"

He suddenly turns you around, easily jerking your limbs until you're sitting on his lap. His hand falls from your neck, between the valley of your breasts, then to your sensitive bundle of nerves. Thorns sprout from the pit of your stomach. It's tingly, prickly, threatening to swallow you whole from the inside out.

"Don't touch there!"

Tartaglia lets out a low chuckle, pushing the barrel of the gun carelessly against your jaw. "Stupid girl, don't you see what position you're in? I'll show you what a man can do to someone so weak." The pads of his fingers are rough, so embarrassingly intimate as one traces your slit. "First, I'm gonna put my cock in here." He slips a gloved finger inside, and you keen at the unfamiliar disturbance. Tiny hands grip onto him tighter, desperately searching for purchase with each scarlet mark it leaves on his skin. You want to scream at him until your throat bled, but all you can muster are pathetic little whimpers.

His voice dips lower, husky with sweet poison. "Then, I'm gonna fuck you like this." His finger slowly drags in, out, in, and out. Each movement is earth-shattering, something you've never experienced before. It renders you completely useless. And despite how much you try to fight it off,fs you're losing yourself to him—body squirming, hips bucking disgracefully against his gloved hand.

"Think you can handle the real thing, sweetheart?" Childe's teasing remark reduces you to a mess of shame and boiling hot anger. You want to tell him to shut up, but your teeth are gritting together to prevent any more noises from coming out ( you don't want to feed his bloated ego any more than this ). However, as he curls his finger and hits a sensitive wall of flesh inside you, an embarrassing mewl chimes from your throat. "Heh, this wet already with just one of my fingers. Didn't realize my wife was so slutty."

"Ah!" You pitifully claw against his shirt, squeezing your legs together to make the electrifying feeling stop. But Childe doesn't give you time to rest. He holsters his gun and forcefully spreads your thighs—smeared with wet dirt, gravel, and slick—before shoving in another finger. The added friction makes you kick your feet in protest. "Nghhh! No, st-sthawp, Ajax!"

Childe's ears perk up at how his name sounds along your pretty tongue. It was something he shared with you after a night of heavy drinking. He never planned to reveal it, but the alcohol influenced him more than he thought. And perhaps it was also because of the way you looked while basked in silver moonlight.

"I hate you!" With an infuriated shriek, you pound against his chest, but that only seems to rile him up even more. His fingers hit even harder, deeper, faster. "Agh! Mmmf, n-no. . . I hate, nghh, h-hate you!"

Tartaglia lets out a snicker. "But you look like you're loving what I'm doing to you. It's not good to lie, you know that, right?" The repulsive, sopping noises of him toying with your cunt mortifies you. There's some pain, pleasure, and an exhausting sense of weakness as you're unable to do anything but lay there. "If you come on my hand, I'm gonna have to punish you for lying~"

Your stomach coils up into a wad of throbbing nerves. The lack of control is terrifying, but you still try to be defiant. "I'm not, ah, going to—!" After a harsh thrust of his fingers, with a loud cry, your body releases all that tension onto his glove. Everything goes blank for a second as your chest heaves up and down. It's so dizzy, the world is spinning.

"Mmm, looks like you need to be taught a lesson on how to be a good girl." His fingers pull out with a squelch, going to unbuckle his belt. There's a very noticeable bulge in his pants. And when he wrenches the restrictive garment down, releasing his hard, massive, swollen cock, new profound terror seeps into your guts. He's planning to put that disgusting thing in you; the thought is horrifying. You try to scurry away, only for his toned arms to push you back down. "Don't run from me." With a smirk, Childe turns your little body around to face him. His weight presses against you, slowly until you're both on the ground. The rain hits his back, droplets rolling down his sharp jaw and onto your face. "This might be a bit rough on your tiny body."

Before you can comprehend his warning, he pulls your soaking wet panties to the side and snaps his hips forward. The painful disturbance makes you wail, your cramped insides trying to resist Childe's member with all its might. It burns. White hot, like a metal rod dipped in lava. For a second, your body shuts down, vision blacking out before startling back awake.

"N-No, hurts. . . 'Jax!"

He jerks his hips, forcing his big cock deeper.

You're gonna die. He's going to kill you.

"Tight—" he hisses, then sucks in a breath that shifts into laughter. He's enjoying it; the cold sweat dripping down your face, how you kick, whimper, your sensitive insides gripping him so intensely. "Hahaha! I can't fuck you stupid if you're gonna keep clenching down me like that." He's smiling, like this is all some kind of joke. However, when you suddenly squeeze even tighter around him, that attitude breaks a little. Teeth gritting hard, Childe buries his head into the shallow dip of your shoulder. He's holding you so close with shivering arms—you can almost confuse it with love. The tender kind you prayed for, something that consumes you whole as if passing through a cloud heavy with rain.

After composing himself, he finally lifts himself back up to look you in the eyes. His face is contorted into a look of pleasure: red cheeks, eyes sharp with wicked amusement. "Ghh. . . W-What did I just say?"

You squeak as he rolls his hips, slipping in a few more inches you didn't realize existed ( it already feels so full ). When he makes a small pump to adjust to the wet heat, your eyes squeeze shut at the throbbing pain. It's too big—the tip feels like it's going to tear through your cervix. But just as you think it's pushed all the way to the hilt, your eyes go wide as he forces in a few more inches inside.

"Ahhh!" You glance down, horror flooding your veins at the sight of there being more to take in. His cock stretches past your limits, making your stomach protrude a little with its shape. The filthy sight burns hot shame throughout you. He's really inside. Not wanting to look at it anymore, your eyes wander elsewhere, but Childe isn't merciful enough to give you that salvation. He takes your chin and forces it forward.

"Look at me."

It's cold enough to see his heavy breaths come out as wisps.

The ginger flutters his eyes, taking a moment to savor the feeling before he fucks you loose. “Such a needy hole for me. So tight, and so fucking warm." When his member draws out slightly, the glossy sheen covering his hard, veiny skin makes you dizzy.

“Let go of me!” you command him, holding back the hot tears brewing in your eyes. In an attempt to relieve the pain, you lift your hips off the hideous thing, but a strong hand grips your waist and jerks you back onto it.

“Mm, now what did I say about not running away?”

Childe pulls himself out to the tip.

Knowing what's coming next, you shout, "W-Wait!" A screech claws out of your chest as he slams back inside with a heavy, wet squelch. Searing pain unfurls inside your weak body, the excruciating thrust of his thick cock too much to handle. You tremble as he withdraws again, agonizingly slow as if to see what other cute reactions you're capable of making. "No, stop—!" He doesn't listen, chuckling as you scratch the muscular jut of his shoulder blades.

“Haah, fffuckk, that’s good,” he admits, thrusting hard back inside with a grunt—so brutally you think for a moment that something split inside you. It’s his massive girth that stretches your insides uncomfortably, the way he’s so much bigger, how he didn’t bother being gentle. The tears you’ve been trying to hold back spill out, and you scream as he sets an unforgiving pace. His body is much bigger, stronger than yours. He easily rocks you back and forth—like you're just some fuckdoll for him to use whenever and however he pleased. All your cries and the way you slam your fists against him are ignored. “Aww, are you crying?” His voice drips with mockery.

You hate it. You hate it so much.

Your hands push against his chiseled stomach. "Get out of me!"

Tartaglia laughs in a way that makes your cheeks burn helplessly. "You're still fighting? Don't you see it's useless, stupid girl." He squeezes your wrists together and pins them above you. There's no way he can possibly hold you down with just one hand, so you struggle, and struggle, and struggle. But nothing budges him at all. His lips are back on yours: kissing hungrily, teeth biting, tongue not wasting any drop. The hot and slimy kisses trail to your collarbone, leaving thick trails of drool. It's like he's salivating at the thought, the feeling, the everything about you.

"I'm not your toy!" you scream at him.

The blue-eyed man lets out a stuttering breath, followed by a snicker. "But you're my wife, which means we're bonded together for the rest of eternity. Remember our vows? Until death do us part." He groans, shifting his weight back a little to get a full view of your adorable face—all red and tear-streaked. “Haaah, you’re so cute when you make that stupid face. That kind of expression would drive any man wild, so don't go showing anyone else." Childe lowers himself to whisper in your ear. "Or I'll get really mad.” He grabs the plush of your thigh, jerking it onto his shoulder to better fuck you into the concrete.

"Ah! Stop, Ajax!"

"That's right, say name name just like that. Go on, cry it all out," he grunts. The shameful wet noises of his hips pounding into your cunt—over and over—fill up the alley. You want to block it out and only listen to the crackles of thunder, the rain as it swallows you up in a bitter cold. But each thrust of his dick breaks your resolve little by little. You’re afraid of someone stumbling down this path and seeing you like this, but you also yearn to be saved.

"H-He. . . lp." It hurts to say anything; your throat is hoarse from all the screaming and pleas for him to stop. "Papa, help me. . ."

The moment you call out for your father, Childe's grip tightens into steel. A punishing thrust rips a cry from you, trembles wrecking through your lithe figure. "Pay attention to me." His voice comes out a low growl. Your vision that was starting to black out returns abruptly. "Who's fucking you right now? Who's making you their bitch? That's right, me. So just forget about everything else and only look. at. me."

There's something so harsh about his words and it confuses you. You've never him like this before—the way he's looking at you with those terrifying eyes.

He glances at the slick gathered between your hips. "We're making such a mess. Finally consummating our marriage after all this time, hm?" Childe takes your left hand, and in a surprising gesture of intimacy, kisses the rings on it. You watch in disbelief as he lifts your hand to his cheek, nuzzling against it—like your warmth is his only flame in the middle of a freezing winter. A strange look dawns his face; you can't pinpoint it no matter how hard you try.

You flinch from his touch despite how gentle it is. "N-No, stop. . . I can't do it anymore. I'm gonna die."

Something flickers across his face, but it's quickly covered up with a smirk.

"Mmmf, you're tightening up again," he heaves out. There's no smile on his face anymore, a concentrated expression taking its place. You feel every bit of his sweat on you, as well as the way your ribcage rattles with how resonating, deep and full his moans are. "I s-should've been, agh, doing this more often while I—ghh!—had the chance." Suddenly, his eyes narrow, cock quivering. "S-Shit, 'mm close. Gonna fill you up nice and good. You'd like that, yeah?"

When you shake your head frantically, he takes out the revolver again and aims it between your eyes, hand trembling slightly from the intense pressure wrapped around his cock. “I’ll blow your, nghhh, p-pretty brains out after I fill you up.” That dark promise widens your eyes in fear; the adorable reaction makes him bursts into wild laughter. But from the way he bites his lips soon after, eyes filled with desire, it's clear that he's struggling to keep himself composed. “Ah, that look on your face; it’s too good! There's still two bullets inside. I’ll do it, darling. I’ll really kill you.”

"Ajax," you plead with a cracking voice. The look on your face must've been priceless ( maybe it was the despair, the defeat, the betrayal, who knows ). His body suddenly shakes with hearty laughter.

"Ha, hahahah! You can be so, so, so cute when you want to be." Childe lets out a low groan. With one last violent thrust, he releases all his cum—in hot, sticky spurts that leave you shivering—deep deep into your womb.

Everything goes numb, the loud thunder and pouring sky becoming white noise.

You stare up at Childe as he spins the revolver's cylinder one more time. The bullets in their cartridge rotate with a clinking noise, metal on metal, beckoning death from its slumber. There's a chance you'll die, and a chance you may walk out of here alive. But your heart is broken, and no one can survive without a functioning heart.

Childe smiles; it isn't playful but rather weak. "Ha, don't look at me like that. It makes me feel kind of bad. But don't worry! If you survive this, I'll let you go like I promised earlier."

He presses the nozzle against your forehead slowly—perhaps to prolong your despair, or maybe it's because of something else. You think you see something change in his blue gaze, but those eyes are still dark—as heavy and cold as a thousand seas. Even then, you find yourself clinging to that tiny spark of light.

"I love you."

The words spill out from your mouth.

Tartaglia sucks in a sharp breath. His eyes widen, filling with some strange emotion you've never seen in them before. After a bit, he squeezes them shut, as if your words seared his flesh. "Don't say things like that either." He finally looks at you with an unclear expression, one that surely isn't warm but not cold either. "It makes me feel like I'm gonna do something I regret."

His finger moves to the trigger.

And you wait for what's to come.

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## 𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐘 | thank you for reading! got sick and tired of proofreading, so you'll probably find grammatical errors or clunky sentences. but wow i actually managed to write something kek.

( 10.21.23 ) ( © ollieink | my box is always open ! )

#( general ; ollie's writing ) #childe x reader #yandere childe #yandere #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact smut #smut #childe smut #yanderecore #yancore

[coffeefiction]

You're my Favorite (Wally Darling x Reader)

Here, I have fluff, take it as a sorry for breaking you guys with my Love Binds story-

If you lovely neighbors see any mistakes, please don't be afraid to point them out!

Enjoy!

It was a nice day. You and Wally were planning your next activity, laying out maps and lists for the next outing, as you both tend to do. You smile at Wally as he points out the next location. "We could go there; They have this pretty lovely restaurant that I very much like!" Wally said enthusiastically. You look at the location and hum. "It does seem interesting," you said, giving Wally a side eye, who stares at you. "Interesting? That's it, neighbor? It's lovely! What do you mean it seems interesting?" He quips up with an offended gasp, causing you to laugh at his reaction, which only seems to only make him look more insulted.

"I'll have you know that, that place is the absolute most, neighbor! And, as a matter of fact, it is one of my favorites too! It is not just interesting! It is lovely and magnificent!" He ranted, moving his hands as if he were animated, causing you to double down on your laughter.

He pouts, folding his arms and turning away. "Alright, alright, I'm sorry, it looks lovely," you replied, laughing. "There? Happy?" you humorously ask the Muppet, who is still pouting. "Awwww, come on, I was just joking, Wals," you said. "The place seems lovely; we can go there if you want; god forbid if I don't allow you to." Wally glances at you. "You'd have my head if I refused to say yes to your favorite restaurant," you remarked, smiling at him.

Wally laughs and rolls his eyes. "I think the eyes would be a good fit for my collection, neighbor," he added. Putting your hands up in surrender, you giggle, "I surrender, I surrender; please don't steal my eyes," causing him to chuckle.

"Of course not; you're my favorite; besides, how would you see your dashing neighbor if I did so?" he says, creating a theatrical attitude that makes you chuckle. "Dashing? You tell yourself that at 12:15 in the morning, Mr. I'm certainly sleeping," you joked, which resulted in a playful whack on the shoulder. You burst out laughing. "At least, I don't wake up grumpy and demanding coffee like a deprived man," he explained. You nudge him, causing him to quack in response to the abrupt attack.

"But you love me," you pointed out. Wally simply drew you close to him and smothered your face in kisses. "Yeah, yeah, I love you and all of your chaos, you gremlin," he replied. You laugh as he continues to shower kisses on your face.

"And I love you too, my dearest Mr. I am sleeping, darling," he chuckles, beaming brightly as usual. "Now, now, don't bring my sleeping into this conversation, neighbor," you snorted. "Now, let's finally pick a place so we can enjoy ourselves! After all, adventure awaits no one!" he exclaimed, puffing his chest out and pointing his fingers toward the ceiling.

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The two of you ended picking a diner you and Wally wanted to go to for dinner. As for the others, you two come to a complete agreement about going to the mall and just exploring the place to see if you two find something interesting enough for the both of you to buy.

It was fun and all. While in the process, Wally keeps clowning around, making jokes and puns left and right that have you cracking up. He'd flirt with you on occasion, and if he caught you off guard, he'd always present himself wearing a sneaky, smile on his muppet face that usually ended with you wiping it off, or at least trying your best to, given the enormous height gap between you two.

While Wally stood at 6 foot 7, you were on the 5-foot scale, which was Wally's go-to spot to tease and also his go-to reason why he had to pick you up. Of course, you'd complain; it wouldn't be you if you didn't, but secretly, and probably Wally knows it too, You like that he picks you up and carries you; if the day ended with him carrying you, then you can always excuse his teasing remarks, and besides, who's to say you didn't have anything to bite back at your sweet darling?

-----------------------------------

The day finally came, you both got ready for today's activity, and you put on your best outfit, something simple and casual, something that isn't overdressed but also isn't underdressed.

When you heard the doorbell ring, you immediately knew who it was. Grabbing your bag of choice, you immediately went to open the door. There stood your beloved, dressed up in his usual aesthetic, smiling brightly as he held out his hand.

"M'lady," you giggled as you took his hand, letting him guide you out, closing the door, and locking it in the process. "I will say this, neighbor, you look very lovely!" he complimented. You grin, blushing at the kind comments. "Thank you; you look handsome if I do say so myself," he beams, guiding you along the street as you both begin to stroll. "What can I say? I have to be presentable if I want my neighbor to fall for me," he smirked, making you laugh.

"We're already dating doofus," you said, bumping your shoulder on him in a playfully manner. He chuckles softly. "Still, just because we're already dating doesn't mean I can't try my best to make you fall for me again and again." You smile, holding his hand tightly and bringing it close to you as you give it a gentle kiss.

"You already make me fall enough for you, Mr. Darling," you said, making him smile. "And you do too, my little darling neighbor," he said, kissing your forehead, causing you to smile even more.

God, you love this man with all your heart, and nothing seems to change that otherwise. It feels like, day by day, he always finds a way to make you fall for his charms even more than you already do, although that is one thing you'll never complain about. You like how sweet he is, yet he can be a bit of an arse if he ever wants to be. A good mix of fancy and sass with a bit of class.

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The day goes on. After stopping at the mall to look around, you both ended up playing in the arcade for a while, attempting to beat and outscore each other and having a friendly rivalry on who could earn the best score and the most tickets. After some time, you two ended up combining both of your tickets and winning a coffee machine.

One of the many things you and Wally share is your love for games, and trying to outsmart and outbest the other was an added bonus to keeping both of your relationships with one another on its toes. It's all fun and games for the two of you; no hurt was put into it, and if one joke was amiss and it hurt the other, it was easily fixed by an apology and a snack of their choosing.

Of course, your relationship isn't perfect; you both battle with communication at times, but who doesn't? Fights tend to break out, and it isn't fine, but at the end, you both would still come back to each other, apologize, and cuddle it up if both of you were up for it. So to say the least, your relationship isn't the best, but it's not the worst either; it's a good balance of chaos, angst, and fluff, as you refer to it, to which Wally's only response was a laugh and a statement saying "You need to calm down with your books neighbor; it's sweet, but it's concerning at times on how many genres you could list off the top of your head and reflect it in reality". You laugh at that, and just thinking about it now as you two walk to your next destination with the coffee machine makes you smile.

--------------------------

Now both of you were heading to the diner after a couple of hours hanging around in the mall, which has caused you two to be hungry. Of course the two of you could have stopped at a fast food restaurant at the mall; the Jollibee there was tempting Wally very much, and you were tempted to get him to order his food so you two could jump on McDonald's and order for yourselves.

The thought of Wally eating a Jollibee at a McDonald's with a coffee machine lives in your mind rent-free, and you even went as far as to tell him about it, causing him to get a good laugh. Maybe one day, the two of you might just do that to be a menace to society, but today, it was about you and him, and the diner was something you two have been looking forward to dine at.

Being menaces to society can wait.

How's that? It is alright? I hope it is!

Thank you all for reading the story! I hope you all have a great day/night!

Goodbye!

#wally darling #wally welcome home #welcome home #wally x reader #wally x you #welcome home puppet show #wally darling x you #wally darling x y/n #wally darling x reader #wally darling fanfic #wally x y/n

[i-literally-cant-with-this]

A/N ::: I'm absolutely bat shit crazy for the idea of an older ProHero!Kiri. That age crossover with men when they're not quite strapping young lads (early to mid 20's?) to when they're distinguished gentlemen (mid 30's to 40's? ... even if they're not distinguished, they can still look the part 😆). *I tagged some of you simply because I (hoped) thought you might like some fun Kiri stuff this morning. If you don't want to be tagged every now and then, let me know and I won't randomly add you. =)

C/W ::: M->F oral, fingering, orgasm, squirting. Pretty short, sweet & to the point 🤷‍♀️.

WC ::: just over 1.4 k

(This fucking picture thoughghafejkdajlk)

I'm very hung up on older ProHero!Kiri right now. Laying in bed, reading the news on his tablet or laptop at the end of the day. He's already washed up and his red hair with dashes of white is tied back in a sloppy bun with one of your hair ties because he always 'loses' his. But you know it's bullshit. You've caught him smelling them before. You know it's because they smell so much like your hair that he wants them instead of the crap he buys for himself.

You get out of the shower in your master bath that's just off the master bedroom. Standing in front of the full length mirror closet doors to give yourself a once over before you strut around in front of your husband like an animal trying to secure a mate.

Your eyes roll over the surface of your freshly washed body. Droplets of water ease down your shoulders and breasts, stopping for a moment to rest on the tip of your nipple before they are another victim to gravity. Looking further down at your newly shaved cunt, you're so nervous, too ... to what? Present yourself to him?

You've never done this before. Never wanted to. Never had a reason to. Kiri hasn't ever hinted at wanting you to be bald - not even trimmed. He eats his meals like a big boy: without any complaints and he always finishes what he's got served up before him. He'd never complain in the first place, he's just so damned happy to be there between your thighs.

Walking into the room as nonchalantly as you can muster, you're brushing your hair and you ask him if there's anything good in local news.

"Nah, nothing I didn't already know about, babe. Anyway, I'm about to turn in for the - um, sorry? WHAT is going on with your pussy right now? Get your gorgeous ass over here right this instant, please, mama. Jesus, Mary and Joseph. Are you trying to kill me with this??"

You blush and giggle, exercising every ounce of your willpower not to reach down and cup yourself to hide from his gaze. "You like it, Ei?" You ask, even though you're a little afraid of the answer. Despite the big stupid grin across his unshaven face.

"Do I - do I like it? *aheh* I-I-I ... fuck. I can't even talk right now. C'mere, c'mere." He lifts his massive arms and gestures for you to join him in bed. You can already see where the imprint of his cock has risen against the sheet he's got pulled up to his waist. Your pussy clenches at the excitement of what he's going to do with you. To you.

You take a few tentative steps toward the Alaskan King sized bed and walk up the little steps he built for you so you wouldn't have to struggle too much when you climbed onto the mattress. He had a special platform attached to the bedframe because he's so damn tall. You told him it would be easier for you to slide out of bed than it would be for him to have to start his day from a near crouch. It always makes him laugh, watching you do this. You just look so little to him. Oftentimes, he can't help himself but to aid you as you ascend. It's a little thing that makes both of you incredibly happy to have the other.

Once he has you up there with him, he lets go of your hand and runs it from your calves up to your face and holds you there while he kisses you softly. But you can tell by his breathing that he doesn't want to go slow tonight. His right hand is holding him up as he leans into your neck and pushes your hair aside with his left, eventually grabbing your throat and holding you there while he sniffs around at your spotless (and hairless) body.

"Sooo ... do tell, my little. What prompted the sudden change of, oh, hairstyles? We'll go with hairstyles. Why'd you shave your pussy? You didn't ... you didn't do this for me, did you? Because I don't want you to feel like I ---" He started his usual reassurance before you stopped him. "No! Nothing like that, Ei. I've just never done this and I wanted to see what it would be like. Y-you like it, though?" A wave of panic washed over you as you lay next to him.

"Oh my god, ye-yes. I fucking love it. You look beautiful. I love that I can see all of you. My pretty little pussy is all out there for me now. In fact, I think - mm-hm. I do. I gotta taste you. Now." He got up onto his knees, discarding his boxer briefs as soon as he tossed the sheet from over his legs. His cock, already leaking, slapped against his stomach.

His body is so fucking beautiful. Even more so than when he was in his 20's. He is strong. Ridiculously so. The hair on his chest sits there unassumingly. Perfect and inviting and warm to the touch. Really, he is warm all over/all of the time. It's comforting.

As you watched him make his way around to you, you glanced at the clock on your nightstand. In the time that it took you to look at that, he was on you. His giant hands wrapped around the curve of your thighs and he was pulling you toward him at the middle of the bed. You yelped at the sudden slide against the silk sheets. You moved easily enough, it was just such a surprise. Though the more you thought about it, the more you realized you should always be prepared for him to do stuff like this.

"There ... we ... go. Ok, babe. I'm going to thoroughly devour you, ok? Like, I've never done this on ... on a bald pussy before. I'm going to take all of you in. So lay back and open yourself up to me, cutie-pie." You blushed again and laid down, back flat against the bed. He laughed softly through his nose as he nudged your knees.

Kiri kissed his way from your inner knee, up your thigh to your soft folds. He looked up at you and smiled before he pushed his nose and mouth against your cunt. Your body shuddered as he moved his tongue around your clit and started to suck on it. He held onto your thighs and pressed his mouth harder against you as you started to get wetter. He moaned into you as he tasted your juices and pulled back just enough to say something to you.

"Fuck, I love your pussy. 'S so fucking perfect f'r me. Love you so much, babe. Thank you for ... fuck ... thank you for this delicacy." He dove back in, licking up your slit and sucking on your clit again. You moaned and grabbed at his hair as he started to use his fingers to push inside of you. He worked his hand so well, so gently. You felt him curl his fingers upwards as he started to rub against your g-spot. It was so fucking intense. You knew you were about to come, but you couldn't tell him fast enough.

Your body tensed up as you drew your legs up to your chest and the orgasm washed over you like a slow wave. You shook and you moaned loudly as you squirted in his face. He licked and sucked on you until you pushed his head away. Kiri wiped his mouth and chin with his hand and he noticed your body was still shaking.

"Are you ok, little? Did I ... do something?" You lowered your legs and pulled your arms from over your face and he saw your smile. "You're laughing?" He asked. You nodded and continued to laugh, almost hysterically. "What's so funny?" The look he was giving you in conjunction with the orgasm you just had, was about a blissed out as you've ever been. "No-nothing, Kiri. I'm fine. That was just really, really, really fucking amazing. I'm just happy 's all." You looked up at him as he was sucking his hand clean.

"I'm happy too, babe. And this was fun. You think you'll keep it like this for a while? Or ...?" He ran his fingertips over your mound as he kissed your stomach. "Please?"

Taglist ::: @neon-gothicc @dcsiremc @darkstarlight82 @arlerts-angel @callm3senpaii @millennialmagicalgirl @pastelbakugou

Dividers by me // Canva

#kirishima eijiro #eijiro kirishima #kirishima x reader #kirishima bnha #kirishima eijirou #kirishima smut #mha kirishima #bnha kirishima #eijiro kirishima x reader #eijiro #kirishima eijiro x reader #eijirou x reader #mha eijirou #mha eijiro kirishima #my hero academia #my hero academia smut #x reader #x you #x y/n #aged up Kirishima

[drarrily-we-row-along]

Love Langauge

There was something about the way that Harry always knelt down to greet Scorpius with a hug that Draco couldn't take. It was too much, too precious, it made him feel like his whole world was narrowed down to just two people, heart too full.

“Daddy told Auntie Pansy that people getting shit done is his love language.” Scorpius informed Harry primly and Draco promptly wished that he could just sink through the floor as Harry’s eyes, twinkling with mischief, found his over his son’s shoulder. He knew he shouldn't have had that floo call with Pansy about work while Scorpius was in the house.

“Did he?” Harry asked, before turning his attention back to Scorpius. “Sounds like acts of service is it for your dad.”

He shook his head, "Scorpius, it's your bedtime."

His 4-year-old turned and pouted at him, "But Harry just got here."

"I know," he said, understanding completely the desire to simply exist in the other man's orbit. "But it's past your bedtime already."

"Can I see you tomorrow?" he asked Harry, turning his pout on the other man, whom, Draco knew from experience, had no defenses against a pouting Malfoy.

"I would like that very much," Harry said sincerely, looking up at Draco, "if it's alright with your dad."

They didn't do this. Harry didn't stay overnight, he wasn't there in the morning when Scorpius woke up, as far as Scorpius was concerned, they were just friends. He'd been too afraid of his son getting attached, and how it would affect him when (if) Harry left. "Maybe Harry would like to meet us for ice cream at Fortescue's," he replied.

Scorpius spun around to look at him, literally jumping for joy, but Draco didn't miss the way that Harry's face fell before he caught himself.

"That sounds great," he said, smiling at both of them.

"Do you want to give Harry a hug good night?" Draco asked.

Scorpius nodded and Harry knelt down again, wrapping his arms around Scorpius. "Night, buddy," Harry said.

"Night, night, Harry," he replied. "I love you."

"Love you too, bud," he responded easily, and Draco's heart shattered in his chest.

He cleared his throat, "Come on, Scorp," he said softly, "bedtime."

His son's arms wrapped around Harry's shoulders tighter for a moment, then he was off, dashing toward the stairs. "I'm gonna beat you!" he called to Draco over his shoulder.

"Be right there, teeth first," Draco called back. He turned to Harry who was standing from the floor once more, "Hey," he exhaled.

"Hi," Harry replied, smiling at him and leaning in to press a gentle kiss to his cheek.

"I'll be back soon. Sorry that nothing went quite according to plan tonight and he's not down yet."

"It's fine," Harry said, shaking his head, "You don't have to apologize. If you'd wanted an extra set of hands, you could have owled and asked me to come earlier."

"That's not your job," he protested. "Harry, the lines-"

"Daddy!" Scorpius called, mouth sounding full of what Draco suspected was toothpaste.

"Coming!"

"Go," Harry said, nudging him toward the stairs. "I'll be here when you're done."

Draco nodded and turned, leaving everything with Harry until after bedtime. Bedtime was his favorite time of day, stories and singing, quiet reflection, cuddles in the rocker, before tucking his child in for the night and stroking his hair until his was fast asleep.

He lingered for a few extra moments in Scorpius' doorway, watching his son sleeping. He planned the whole speech in his head: Scorpius was the most important person in his life, his world revolved around his child, he wanted Harry but he couldn't put Scorpius' heart in danger. Bad enough to be putting his own heart in such a precarious position, he thought as he closed the door and headed downstairs again.

When he reached the living room, Harry was nowhere to be seen, so he wandered through to the kitchen imagining that Harry might be uncorking the bottle of wine that Draco had seen tucked in his coat pocket.

What he found instead, was Harry standing at the sink, up to his elbows in water as he washed the veritable mountain of dishes that Draco hadn't had the time or energy to take care of. That seemed to be the case with more and more things lately, he just didn't have the capacity to work and be a single parent.

"You don't have to do that," he said, embarrassment flooding his whole body.

Harry glanced over his shoulder and smiled at him, "I don't mind." Before Draco could protest, he continued, "I'm almost done anyway. Do you want to pour us some wine? I picked up that Merlot that you were fond of at that Italian place we ate at last month."

"I can't do this," Draco breathed, feeling like the air had been punched out of him. He stumbled back to lean against the doorway.

"Draco?" Harry said softly, voice full of concern, and Draco looked up to see him drying his hands on the towel as he looked at him.

And Draco wanted to cry. The image of Harry standing there, sleeves rolled up from washing the dishes for him, brows drawn in concern, was burned into his brain. Because this was it. It had to be. "I can't," he managed, shaking his head.

"Can't what?" Harry asked gently, moving a few steps closer but leaving space in between them.

Space that Draco wished he would close, wished that Harry would crowd him into the wall and make him forget everything else.

"Sweetheart," Harry murmured, "tell me?"

"I can't do it," he said and a tear slid down his cheek. "I'm so fucking tired," he added. "I can't be a good dad and run a business when no one is doing what they're supposed to be," he shook his head, "I'm a complete shit boyfriend-"

"You're not-" Harry started to protest.

"I am!" he exploded, throwing his arms in the air. "You're here and you're cleaning my house for me, and you brought me wine that you remembered that I enjoyed a month ago! And what have I-"

"Draco," Harry said, voice very calm as he closed the distance between them and cupped Draco's face in his palms. "Take a breath, love."

He shook his head, hot tears spilling down his cheeks.

"Sweetheart," he murmured, pressing kisses to Draco's forehead, his nose, his cheeks.

"I don't have anything to give you," he said, closing his eyes so he didn't have to watch the realization of that truth dawn on Harry's face.

"You are not what you do," Harry said softly. "Your value as a person isn't defined by what you give."

"But I can't give you anything."

"That isn't even true," Harry argued, pulling Draco into his arms. "Choosing to spend your free time with me when you could be doing a thousand other things is a gift. You give me your affection. You make me laugh, and you tease me, and you listen to me rant about my day. You open your home to me, your bed to me," he added softly, voice wrapping around Draco's fragile, bleeding heart. "You give me yourself, you let me see you, let me touch you, and hold you. You accept me in return. Circe, Draco, what more could I even ask for?"

"Harry," he whispered, wanting so badly to believe him.

"Your love language may be acts of service," he said, laughing a little and Draco huffed and rolled his eyes, "but mine isn't. Mine's quality time," he added. "And your secondary love language might be gifts, but my second is physical touch. We aren't the same," he said. "And that's a good thing," he added.

He gave in and wrapped his arms around Harry's waist, dropping his head to his boyfriend's shoulder. "I'm afraid," he whispered.

"Of what?" Harry asked, letting his hands slide up and down his back.

"Of getting in too deep," he said. "That I'm going to fall for you completely and I won't be able to recover when you leave."

Harry hummed and kissed his temple, "Who says I'm going to leave?"

"It's hard to imagine that you want to stay when I'm such a mess, when I'm too afraid of you leaving to let you spend the night, when-"

"Draco," he tried to interrupt, squeezing him.

"-when I am constantly pushing you away," he finished.

Harry was quiet for a minute, then he said, "you aren't really pushing, you know." He let his fingers tangle in Draco's hair, "I hear what you're saying, but I'm not going anywhere, Draco. You can push and I won't leave."

He laughed, short and bitter, "You say that now but you haven't seen me at my worst."

Harry laughed at that, "I think we both know that's not true." He pulled back, "Sorry, but pretty much nothing you can do now will compare to the time you smashed my nose with the heel of your boot and left me under my invisibility cloak. And," he added, "there's not really much that I can do that would be worse than literally cutting you apart with my magic-"

"Because I was trying to crucio you," he inserted.

He shook his head, and pressed their foreheads together, "If you want me to leave, now or ever, you will have to say the actual words. I won't read those words in your actions or in your other words. You pushing right now actually just feels like you're trying to love me, so," he shrugged. "I'm pretty stubborn." He nudged Draco's nose with his, "I'm here for good."

"Do you promise?" Draco breathed before he could stop himself.

Harry pulled back, just far enough that he could look Draco in the eyes. He reached up and tucked Draco's hair behind his ear, "I love you," he said softly. "We've been together for over a year," he said, "but Draco, I've loved you for so much longer. I fell in love with you over pub nights, and consults for work, and watching you with your child," he shook his head. "You're amazing and I don't want to go anywhere." He cupped Draco's face in his palm, stroking his thumb over Draco's cheek, "I promise, love. I'm in this."

He exhaled, closed his eyes, and tried to let himself believe that, believe that he got to keep this.

"Draco," he said softly, "I," he swallowed, "I want to give you stability, whatever I can to show you that I mean it. I've wanted to ask you if you wanted to move in together," he said, sounding nervous. "But it seems presumptuous since me moving in with you makes the most sense logistically. And I've wanted to ask if you wanted to get married, but I know you've said-"

"You want to marry me?" he interrupted, eyes flying open to search Harry's face.

He nodded, earnest and dear, "Of course I do. I just," he shrugged, "you said marriage was the worst thing that ever happened to you and that Scorp was the only good thing-"

"Stop," he said, kissing Harry because he couldn't quite help himself. "Harry, I meant political marriages," he kissed him again because this felt like a proposal, like a huge declaration. "My marriage to Astoria where she just fucked off after she got her inheritance that had been contingent on having an heir, that marriage was shit. And I wouldn't trade Scorp, but I wanted a partner-" he broke off.

"Draco, I-" he broke off, shaking his head, "I want to be your partner, I would do anything for him, I would be anything-"

"Harry," he breathed because this couldn't be real, this couldn’t be happening.

Harry shook his head, "I know that I can't just jump in and be his dad, but Draco I love him so much, I would do anything."

He stared at Harry for a long moment before he leaned in and kissed him.

The other man kissed him back, pressing him back against the wall and caging him in with his body.

"I love you," Draco managed against Harry's mouth. "Salazar. Yes, Harry," he gasped. "Yes to any of it, to all of it. Whatever you'll have of me."

"I'll have all of you," he murmured, "Any bit that you'll give me." He pulled back and Draco almost tipped over. Harry steadied him with his hands around his waist, "Stay right here," he murmured, giddy and breathless, dimpled-smile so bright that Draco was nearly overcome. "Don't move," he repeated before leaving the kitchen.

Draco heard the closet in the entry way opening, then Harry was skidding back into the kitchen. He fell to his knees in front of Draco, opening a ring box and displaying a simple silver band.

"Marry me?" Harry whispered, eyes wet and smile bright.

Draco nodded and Harry's trembling fingers held out the band to him, slipping it over Draco's ring finger. Once it was in place, Draco fell to his knees in front of Harry and cupped his face in his palms.

"Thank you," he whispered and Draco found himself wiping the tears spilling from his eyes.

"I think I'm really getting the better end of the bargain here," he whispered back with a little laugh.

Harry shook his head and more tears spilled out, Draco's heart felt like it was bursting in his chest. "This is everything I've ever wanted," he replied.

Draco wrapped him up in his arms and hoped that he'd be worthy of that love, worthy of that claim. "Stay," he whispered.

Harry nodded back, "Always."

----------------

written for the @hdcandyheartsfest prompt 'love language'

Read more of my 2023 hdcandyhearts ficlets here.

#This one really got away from me #this was supposed to be short but alas #proposal #is this the first proposal ficlet that i've written for candyhearts this year? #no one is more shocked than I #drarry #love #soft #fluff #hdcandyheartsfest #gentle #single dad draco #draco is a good dad #Harry is a good boyfriend #established relationship

[mypoisonedvine]

I hate hate hate having to talk about this stuff because I know 98% of y'all are not the problem, and the remaining 2% are probably not going to care in the slightest. but I need to set some boundaries and explain why I'm getting frustrated before any more resentment builds.

I've been writing for cillian murphy characters since july 26 when I posted 'thoughtless', since then I've released well over one hundred thousand words of content for him. I'm not exaggerating, I counted. it's been five and a half weeks and I've posted 14 full-length one shots which means I'm posting more than twice a week. that's not even including drabbles/requests.

I'm getting concerned that this has set a precedent that people are holding me to and I'm getting annoyed by the entitlement in some of my asks and comments.

first things first, and I know nobody means anything bad by this but it's pissing me off: stop using the phrase "full smut" in your requests, it's driving me crazy. this started abruptly after I posted a bunch of drabbles in one sitting based on y'all's ideas and requests. I did that as a way to try out new ideas and appease people who hadn't had their concepts written about yet. instead of people being happy with what I wrote for them, people got frustrated that the drabbles were drabble-length and not thousands of words long like my full fics (which take me several days to write, rather than an hour or less which is the point of short requests). ever since, people won't stop coming into my inbox talking about making a "full smut" for a certain character or idea as if they're terrified that I'll only post something short. I usually don't post short things. I feel now like those drabbles were a colossal waste of time because all they did was make people afraid I wouldn't write longer stuff; I wanted to open requests again because I had fun, but now I feel like it's a bad idea because it'll just leave people frustrated when they see it's not whatever a "full smut" is and then tell me it's incomplete and I need to write more. a short drabble can very well be a complete story. stop asking for "full smut" PLEASE. just tell me what you're interested in reading and trust that, as the author, I will tell the story in the correct length of time.

secondly, the way people are asking for stories about new characters is getting out of control. I think you guys don't realize that I only post less than half of the asks I get, because they are so repetitive and constant. I have literally over 2000 unanswered asks currently. if I answered all the asks I received, I would lose followers because it clogs the dash and half of them are the same questions.

and I'm just gonna say this one explicitly: please stop asking me to write for cillian's character in the movie 'anna'. I'm not saying that I won't or that I don't want to. but I need you to understand that I get easily 3-5 asks a DAY about this character and I am exhausted. I'm not particularly interested in watching the movie. not only does it look like it's probably just not that good, but on a very personal note, I am in recovery for an eating disorder (and relapsed recently) and I just... don't wanna watch a movie with a runway model in the leading role right now. I'm sorry if that feels like body shaming or something but I've been waiting until I feel like I can watch it without feeling sick or enraged. it should come as a surprise to no one who is familiar with my work that I'm not a particularly mentally healthy person. but that's only part of it; I answered asks about this character for a while saying I wanted to write for him eventually, but I had to stop because people just asked about him every day anyways without reading my very recent posts with the same question. I'm still not ruling it out. I'm just warning you guys that it will be a while.

people are now commenting requests for new characters ON MY CURRENT FICS FOR UNRELATED CHARACTERS. how entitled and dense do you have to be to do that? I can't believe this has to be said, but comments on my fics should be... related to the content of the fic you're commenting on.

to be clear, I'm not mad at anyone for doing this stuff (except that last one, that's unforgivably ridiculous) because I think the intentions are pure. but now that I've explained why this stuff bothers me, I'm asking you to put a little more thought into how you phrase your questions and comments. to be clear: for the most part I feel incredibly supported and appreciated here and I've been very impressed by this fandom's ability to not be morality police and manage their own content consumption. a lot of you have reached out with concern about the speed at which I was producing and I totally understand and value that. I honestly think I can keep up that pace for a little while longer... I just wanted to explain why I'm getting a little irritated and hopefully decrease the amount of asks I get repeating the same two or three things.

so, tl;dr -- I've been having a lot of fun writing and I plan to keep doing it as much as I can. some people are spoiling the fun for everyone by being (usually unintentionally) entitled and impatient. I don't mind you guys showing enthusiasm for things you'd like to see from me, in fact it's helpful because it tells me what might get a good reception. but please be thoughtful in how you make these requests and please support what I've already written if you want to see more. I think non-writers have a hard time understanding how inspiration works (hell, even writers don't really understand it in ourselves lol) and so it kinda just seems like if I can write about one thing I can write about any thing. but I only write so much and so fast because I write what speaks to me and not other people's ideas. again, thank you so much for all the love and support this past month!!

p.s. I also get asks multiple times a day asking when I will post a fic, especially if I've announced it. I always post fics between 4 and 5 PM central US time. I would recommend calculating when that is for you and I promise you'll find me posting very reliably at this time on days I have fics announced. hopefully this saves us all some trouble in the future lmao

#long post

[after-the-end-times]

We'll always have (more than) Paris

Different Meeting Tedependent AU where Ted had planned a trip to Paris for him, Michelle, and Henry, but before he can tell her she hands him divorce papers.

But after so many months of researching places to go and things to do and food to eat he finds he still wants to go. So, he and Henry go to Paris without Michelle.

They're wandering toward the base of the Eiffel Tower when a little girl darts past him giggling and screeching that ear splitting high pitched happy screech kids that age can so easily hit.

A few moments later a harried looking man with amazingly white streaked hair trot-runs past him, trying to catch up to her without full out sprinting.

But Ted knows how toddlers can be when they're in that darting away phase and she's not going to stop until she's scooped up.

He also knows no parent actually wants to look like they can't get their child back without yelling or running, so he turns to Henry,

"Hey Henry, why don't run up past that little kid there? Get her to chase you and get her back to her dad, hm?"

Henry doesn't need to be told twice and takes off, dashing past the man and then the little girl.

Ted speeds up his walking pace to tap the man on the shoulder.

"Excuse me! Er- Excusez moi! Uh parlez um- inglese? My son's gonna bring her back, don't worry! Toddlers love nothing more than chasing big kids!"

Ted tries to make himself look as encouraging and friendly as possible in case the man doesn't understand him. The man had turned to look at Ted at his shoulder tap so Ted finally got to see that magnificent hair up close.

"Oh! Uh yes, thank you. Though he might have his work cut out for him, she hasn't been a very good listener today, I'm afraid," He looks back to the kids who are giggling and zig-zagging around the green, before turning back to Ted looking slightly bewildered, "And I'm sorry, was that supposed to be French earlier? I think there might've been some Spanish in there."

Ted huffs out a laugh and puts his hands in his pockets.

"Yeah, I tried to learn some French on that owl app before we came here, but three years of high school Spanish keeps slipping through instead," He nods toward Henry, "He's actually taken to it a lot quicker. Probably cause it's like it's just another game on his tablet."

He holds out his hand, "Ah right, Ted Lasso. That's Henry out there."

The man gives him a bemused look and takes it, "Trent Crimm. And she's Darcy"

"Well, nice to meet you Trent Crimm," He nods toward where Henry and Darcy have flopped down on the grass, breathing hard, "Looks like someone's been tuckered out."

"Well, thank you for that. Fortunately, our hotel isn't far and it's just about time for a nap," He starts toward the kids, before pausing and turning to Ted, "Have a good vacation Mr. Lasso. You should make sure to visit Musée d'Orsay, they have a little art scavenger hunt Henry might enjoy."

"Thanks for the tip. And please. Ted." He smiles at Trent.

"Ted." Trent holds his gaze a moment longer, a faint flush spreading across his cheeks, before glancing away. He turns and calls out, "Darcy! Come on! It's time to go!"

Henry and Darcy sit up and clamber to their feet. Darcy races over to Trent, slamming into his calves, "Daddy! Can Henry come picnic with us?"

"No darling, we're done picnicking for today. And I'm sure Henry's dad has plans for them."

"T'morrow?" She gazes up at Trent with glistening eyes.

Ted wouldn't wish those big crocodile tears on anyone, let alone his new friend.

"Well hey there, little Miss Darcy!" He bends down to address her where she's still wrapped around Trent's legs and she turns her eyes toward Ted, "You guys have been picnicking? That's fun! Henry and I love a good picnic! We'd love to join you sometime!"

He stands up to look at Trent, smiling gently at him "If that's alright with you?"

Trent blinks a couple times up at him, a slow smile over taking his face, "We'd love for you to join us." He pauses and breaths out a laugh as he glances away, "But tomorrow we actually have plans. To visit the Musée d'Orsay, in fact."

Ted smiles wide as he realizes, "Why Trent! And here I just heard a great recommendation for the Musée d'Orsay! And an art scavenger hunt, I believe?"

He glances over at where Henry's attempting to do cartwheels in the grass. Darcy notices as well and abandons Trent's legs to run over and start somersaulting alongside him.

Ted's smile softens as he tilts his head to the side and looks at Trent from under his lashes, "I'm almost sorry I messed up our "Accidentally running into each other for the second time" meet-cute, but at least now we can spend the whole time together! Then grab lunch afterwards? Besides, art scavenger hunts are much more fun with more people, everyone knows that."

Trent smiles up at Ted, "Well, if everyone knows that. Who am I to disagree?"

For a moment they gaze into each other's eyes, picturing the rest of their time in Paris; Visiting museums and tourist spots together, meeting at cafes for breakfast, finally making it to the top of the Eiffel Tower, ice cream along the Seine, Henry gaining a Darcy shadow, Ted and Trent spending their every moment learning about each other and falling in love faster than either thought was possible.

But for now, Ted and Henry walk Trent and Darcy back to their hotel for nap time. And as Ted looks at Henry skipping ahead of them while Darcy chatters on and he feels Trent's sliding his hand into his own, he suddenly knows they're going to have so much more than Paris

~fin~

post scripts: Before their flight, Ted got an email and was offered the Richmond coaching job, but hadn't thought much of it. He's definitely going to accept it now. Michelle always wanted to travel and move abroad, but Ted never wanted to leave Kansas. She studied abroad in London and would actually love the opportunity to move there with Henry and Ted (but not with Ted) Trent is overwhelmed when Ted tells him he was one of the deciding factors for Ted accepting the Richmond coaching position. He never imagined someone could ever love him so much they'd move across the ocean for him. It takes time, but he finally starts to believe it

#tedependent #tedtrent #ted x trent #trent crimm #ted lasso #I just meant to write the idea and then a wild ficlet appeared #ficlet #I guess I have a writing tag now

[headspace-hotel]

Okay I was planning on staying out of it but this is painful to watch.

To be clear, OP was being very weird and didnt at all need to say that. But it seems like hald the people since then have just been trying to explain what OP mewnt and doing it horribly, because I do in fact get ehat thry were saying.

Theres been a bug movement with online fascists thats like "modern society is too urban (see: diverse). Weve gotten too far from how we traditionally lived, and were so out of touch with nature. Kids spend all their time inside or in the suburbs and never get to see real nature." And its all a recruitment tactic.

The Start of that pipeline is often just "huh modern scoiety is extremely out of touch with nature. Kids grow up without the experiences I had as a kid running around in creeks and stuff. Kids cant recognize plants." And most of that is true and it Is bad, but they then often make a very quick leap to "this is a problem with Society." And from there to fascist talking points.

And like, if you squint, you can very easily draw similarities between the very start of that pipeline and your recent posting.

Again, this is Obviously incredibly stupid and anyone who actually reads anything you post can see that. But like, I can at least see how, if someone is primed to always look only for fascist dog whistles, and one of your recent posts crossed their dash, if theyre not smart, they could arrive at that anxiety.

Everyone since then has just been dumb about it.

...Okay I'm thinking the "cottagecore" discourse has just rotted people's brains out here. I didn't realize it until now but "posting pictures of a basket of freshly picked strawberries is a fascist dogwhistle" really was a Thing on here a while back. Okay. That makes sense now.

I know about the "trad"/fascist-adjacent 'homesteading'/off-the-grid doomsday prepper attitudes. Where I live, being a 'homesteader' often goes along with stockpiling guns.

But these people's attitudes are individualistic, it's all about personally escaping the "Modern" world and living in The Wilderness(tm) somewhere and being "self-sufficient" (lmao). Kind of a manifest-destiny adjacent fantasy (gross)

This is where the "cottagecore" discourse brain worms did immense damage—no one wanted to explain why the individualistic, intrepid settler homesteader fantasy was a problem, so all the well meaning people on the margins of the discourse went "oh, okay, wanting to reconnect with your natural world and consciously participate in your local ecosystems is a fascist/colonialist thing."

I have multiple posts buried deep in my drafts about this somewhere that I was afraid to post, because I was met with the "google is free" stuff when I tried to figure out what was going on, and Google was entirely empty of any material explaining the (alleged?) fascist and colonialist roots of cottagecore.

It makes my brain hurt because yes, actually, I *see* how "homesteading" is sometimes related to white supremacist and colonialist shit, and the fascist and "cottagecore" communities do have an overlap that is not purely coincidental. That's real. It's not made up. But. A lot of people on the internet have learned to recognize fascist "dogwhistles" instead of learning to recognize fascist ideas.

A lot of the work of recognizing fascist-adjacent stuff in the wild does rely on developing a sensitivity to such "red flags." I've talked about things that I consider to be red flags, and I sometimes respond strongly to them. But—it's crucial that you understand that the red flags themselves are not what fascism is. You have to be able to see and recognize the actual harmful components of an ideology instead of deciding that any similarity, no matter how superficial, Is Fascism.

A lot of colonialist and fascist systems of thought have "relationships with nature and growing plants is good" somewhere in there, but the actual poison here comes in a few forms:

unquestioned romanticization of settling/colonizing an Untouched Wilderness

deciding that some kind of stable, inherent 'natural' state of human existence is always good, and 'unnatural' things are bad

modern society is decaying and degenerate, "traditional" values and lifestyles are better (enter romanticizing the past as a paradise of moral and racial purity)

Yes, there were statements in my post that looked superficially similar to some of these. No, those statements were not even remotely close to communicating the same things.

And "dogwhistles" are not about superficial similarity. If you learn about 'homesteading' as a white supremacist fantasy being a thing, and you jump onto a post talking about growing native species like "Oh look I've found a fascist dogwhistle!" You've misunderstood the assignment.

[ciderwitch]

I'm just feeling it today man. I might be writing some Holiday Submas SFW fluff next tbh but had to get this out of my system first 😔😉

🔞Butler Ingo x Reader x Butler Emmet + Tights Kink(?)

Ingo and Emmet looked so good in their tailored suits that you decided to surprise them at the Tea Festival on Pasio with a maid outfit of your own!

It had a simple but cute design with black and white fabrics, dainty red and blue ribbons, and small polished buttons of silver and gold. Elesa was very happy to help you pick out and design most of the pieces yourself– you didn't want to think about the price of the shoes she gifted you– but she was absolutely adamant about the last piece you needed to complete the look.

It was a pair of lacy black tights. Not that you minded, considering that the ones with garters felt a little too risque for this kind of event. They were cute but plain aside from a band of ribbons going across your mid-thigh.

Truth be told, you felt they were a little too thin to be tights, but Elesa wouldn't hear it. It didn't help that she'd told you that your normal underwear was making lines so you had nothing on underneath the thin fabric.

Still, you couldn't help but feel cute. Sexy, even, given how the dress showed off your curves in a way you were usually too afraid to try.

"You look adorable!", Elesa happily stated before ushering you into the Zebstrika-led carriage that would be escorting the two of you tonight. "I told you my friend was a good seamstress!"

"I just hope they like it." You sigh worriedly as the carriage gets closer to the plaza. You could already hear the soft classical music coming from the small orchestra and Ingo's voice distantly announcing another celebrity.

Ingo and Emmet had worked very hard to get chosen as the hosts at this year's Tea Party event and were personally welcoming all the special guests as they arrived. There were dozens of elite trainers, breeders, and scientists from several regions in attendance tonight.

"Trust me," Elesa said, tapping your knee with hers and giving you a bright smile. "They're going to love it! Besides, you could be wearing a dress of old Arbok skin and they'd still think you were the prettiest girl in all of Unova." She joked.

You chuckled, knowing she was probably right. Ingo and Emmet were always appreciative of how you looked, even complimenting you when you were in your rattiest pair of pajamas after you all hibernated through a three day weekend.

Still, it was hard to calm your nerves as you felt your turn to exit the carriage draw near. All too soon, the Zebstrika out front came to a halt and Elesa stepped out first.

"Now introducing Madame Elesa, the Shining Beauty of Unova!" Ingo's voice rang out once again. Turns out his volume came in handy for events like this, though Emmet's monotone voice was no less booming as he held up his microphone to give your introduction as you stepped out of the carriage.

"Now introducing Madame Y/n, Champion of Unova!"

As you slipped your gloved hand into Ingo's, you tried to get a glimpse of his face.

He looked downright dashing in his suit and hat, and you chuckled at the immediate blush that colored his cheeks as he caught sight of your dress.

He quickly passed you over to Emmet, who gave you a subtle once over and a quick wink before he helped usher you to the red carpet.

You felt their eyes following you as you made your way back to Elesa who was posing for a few pictures before taking her seat.

A handful of other high-profile guests arrived until finally it was time to begin the festivities.

Ingo and Emmet were masterful hosts, directing staff and delighting guests the entire evening. Though they couldn't spend too long with any table in particular, you knew they were being careful to keep your tea cup full and your snack tray well-stocked. You tried not to stare, but they were both effortlessly graceful. Ingo, prim and proper, bowed to each guest before offering to pour them another tea. Emmet was as talkative as ever, entertaining guests and leaving each table with more laughter and smiling than when he had found it.

It was a wonderful evening and you had met dozens of interesting new individuals, exchanging your number and promising plenty of battles in the upcoming future.

When the time came, Ingo and Emmet thanked everyone for their attendance and dazzled their guests with a final fireworks show.

You decided to head home so you could prep some dinner and clean clothes for your boys. You knew they had to be exhausted after running around socializing and serving others in those suits all evening.

You decided to leave the dress and tights on, enjoying the feel of them and laughing at yourself at the idea of being their private little maid to come home to.

You were in the middle of prepping dinner when you heard them get back. They were probably going to change and come say hello, so you figured you'd meet them in the kitchen.

"Hey boys!" You called out, letting them know where you were. "The tea party was wonderful, wasn't it?"

They didn't answer. Poor things, you thought, they were probably exhausted.

"Sorry if you guys are tired! I'll finish dinner up and put it up so you can have some in the morning!"

You yelped when a hand grabbed your hip and a body suddenly pushed flush against yours, pushing you forward against the counter.

"I am Emmet, and you have been verrry cruel, darling."

"Emmet, wha-" you gasped as he ground something hard against your ass through the dress.

"Wearing such a pretty dress all evening when we can't do anything about it." He hisses into your ear as another pair of hands suddenly push you back from the counter. Ingo pushes you into his brother as he crowds against your front, shoving one of his thighs through your legs and effectively trapping you between the two still-suited men.

"You show up looking like this, knowing we can't service you the way you deserve in front of all those people," Ingo groans, sounding halfway to broken already. "Please, madame, we've been so good this evening. Won't you let us have a taste?"

Any kind of answer leaves your mind as Emmet tugs your dress up and runs a hand over your tights-covered pussy, squeezing and toying with your mound as he places a nip to your ear.

"F-fuck, Ingo, Emmet, yes, p-please!" You beg, blood rushing out of your head as the warmth of their bodies scent of their spiced cologne surrounds you further.

"I think I know just how proceed, Ingo." Emmet chuckled darkly before breaking away to drag you to the living room. He sat down on the couch before quickly turning you around and pulling your body down on top of him, placing your ass against his lap while he snaked his hands under your knees and lifted.

You were suddenly so exposed. You felt yourself clench around nothing as Ingo, following from the kitchen, practically drooled at the sight of you with Emmet's arms locked around your legs, holding your core to Ingo's hungry eyes while Emmet's hard length dug into your back.

"Go on then, Ingo, we can't leave our mistress waiting," Emmet purred, urging his brother to action. "She went to all this trouble to wear these pretty little things. Why don't we show her how much we appreciate them?"

Ingo, still looking oh-so-put-together in his suit, tenderly placed a gloved hand over your clothed mound and traced his fingers around the shape, making you whimper. You felt your face flush as you both realized that just his feather-light touch already had you soaking through your the bottoms. Ingo was quick to notice your arousal, practically panting as he began teasing your more - harder, yes, but still not firm enough to give you any proper fiction. You tried canting your hips but Emmet's grip had you completely immobilized.

"You should wear these more often, darling," Emmet mumbled hotly into your ear. "Be our pretty little maid, let us service you how you need. I will let you use me as you see fit, mistress."

Your soft moan seems to break Ingo out of his spell, and you practically start drooling himself when you see him pull his cock out from his dress pants. It's long and thick, and you want nothing more than to let him hilt it inside you.

But he makes no move to strip you. Instead, he lets his clock slip between your legs and moans loudly as he begins to grind his dripping length against your slit over the tights.

And it's not enough, not nearly enough, but the slow drag of his head against your hole has you desperately trying to buck against him for more.

"Darling, you feel so perfect!" He groaned as he leaned forward to capture your lips in a kiss, catching his weight on his arms on either side of your head.

Still, each heavy drag of his cock comes with a rock against Emmet's cock below you, and you whimpered into Ingo's mouth as Emmet's hands left your legs to fall around Ingo's thighs and shifted up into your dress, sliding up your sides to fondle your breasts, squeezing and cupping them as Ingo sloppily fucked your mouth with his tongue. His kisses were wet, desperate, driving you out of breath as he moaned whorishly and sought his release against you. You loved every moment of it.

Your slick was absolutely soaked through your tights and now drops of Ingo's pre-cum began to mix with it. He was practically fucking you onto Emmet now, grabbing your thighs and forcing them apart to grind the head of his cock against your clit with each hump against you. You were so, so close, crying as Ingo babbled praise and nonsense against your lips, calling you beautiful, perfect, wonderful, theirs, theirs, theirs-

And then he was cumming, spilling his hot seed into your thighs with a cry and crushing you against Emmet, who bit your shoulder with a high-pitched whine as his brother's cock twitched against and painted your dress and tights in his spend and you came hard, clenching around nothing as Ingo mindlessly kept fucking his cock over your pussy eve as you were shaking from the sensitivity. Finally he pushed off of you both, staggering away as you fell limp. You didn't expect him to pull you up with him, only to drop you to the side as poor Emmet shot up to pin you underneath his weight.

"My turn," he hissed, before reaching down and ripping a hole into your tights. He wasted no time and sank his cock right into your soaking folds, shuddering at how you clenched around him.

"Fuck, Emmet, wait, it's too sensitive- Ah!" You cried, not having enough strength to slow his thrusts as he hammered into your hole like a man possessed.

Neither of you were going to last long, both so worked up and desperate from before. His suit was a wrinkled mess and you reached a hand up to grab his disheveled hair, desperate for something to ground yourself against his thick cock slamming into your walls and hitting that spot over and over again. As soon as you fisted your hand into his hair he was cumming with a shout, painting your insides and falling down against you. You didn't know if it was the weight of him over you, the press of a hard pants button insistent against your sensitive clit, the twitching of his cock, or the way he whimpered into your ear that had you crying out and locking your legs around you, milking his cock as he shuddered from the way you squeezed him dry.

All three of you fell into a numb pile on the couch, dinner all but forgotten as you worked to catch your breath.

Yeah, dinner could wait.

#pokemon x reader smut #submas x reader #submas smut #submas emmet x reader #submas ingo x reader #🚇 #butler submas #dapper submas

[morgana96]

To try to give a genuine answer to an apparently genuine question:

I personally dislike estinien and aymeric both.

Estinien is an unreliable ally who has shown himself willing to shun (post HW MSQ), disdain (HW MSQ), or be violent towards his allies (ARR DRG queats), and Aymeric is a proponent of the forced adoption of the WoL into an Ishgardian house, and manipulative in a way that makes him a very good politician but not a very good person.

I dislike the ship between them because I feel that they would both be bad for each other, for these reasons.

I'm not trying to hate on you, but you seemed to be genuinely asking a question so I'm trying to genuinely give an answer.

Keep brightening my dash <3

I debated on actually replying to this because what I have to say might come off as rude. But I'm afraid this interpretation of both Aymeric and Estinien feels EXTREMELY innaccurate. I'm not sure how far you are in the story because you only mention up to Heavensward, so I don't want to spoil anything post-Heavensward. But even then, these claims simply make no sense.

In my opinion, calling Estinien "unreliable" and "disdainful" to his allies is wild. He can be distant and harshly blunt sometimes, but he very clearly cares about other people. He is open about his respect for people like WoL, Alberic, and Aymeric, and his familial fondness for Alphinaud. That is NOT disdain. If anything, his aloofness is due to the trauma of losing his entire family and village, making it difficult for him to form new connections out of fear of losing them too. While his all consuming desire for revenge was unhealthy and misguided, it was fueled not by disdain for others, but rather extreme grief for those he loved so dearly and lost so violently.

During the DRG quests, finding out the truth about Alberic and Ferndale was DEVASTATING for Estinien. He openly admits that Alberic is a father figure to him, and learning that his mentor was hiding the full truth was shellshocking, making him more susceptible to Nidhogg's influence and manipulation. And it was that manipulation that led up to the questline's final confrontation.

As for Aymeric, since when has he ever "manipulated" WoL? He's probably one of the most honest characters in the game. If you're talking about his appearances in ARR, you're far from the only player who initially got "secret villain" vibes from him. But most players eventually realized that was never his intention. He's not lying to you or trying to trick you into doing anything during those initial meetings. If anything, he's being brutally honest about how Ishgardian bureaucracy works, regardless of his personal opinions on the matter.

Also, I have no clue where you got the idea that WoL was "forcibly adopted" into House Fortemps to further Aymeric's political agenda, because that is not even remotely close to what happened. Haurchefant is the one who petitioned for them to get into Ishgard because he wanted to protect them after the events in U'ldah. Count Edmont took WoL, Alphinaud, and Tataru in because Haurchefant vouched for them, and because they had literally nowhere else to go. Pretending it was some political scheme by Aymeric and not Haurchefant's faith and admiration for WoL that got them into House Fortemps is a major disservice to both characters and a critical misinterpretation of the plot.

I couldn't disagree more with the idea that Aymeric and Estinien are somehow "bad for each other". Like I said in my original post, they have been friends for a decade, and it says a lot that Estinien opened up to Aymeric despite the former's reluctance to form bonds with others. Aymeric considers Estinien his "dearest friend", while Estinien sees Aymeric as Ishgard's "best hope" and literally threatens to take down the Holy See himself if they threaten harm against him. Whether that's romantic or platonic love is up to interpretation. But it's very obvious that love is there.

So yeah, I'm sorry, but I can't humor this reasoning. To me, these claims unfortunately give off the same frustrating energy as players who insist their WoL hates the Scions because they are "manipulating" their WoL and "using them as a weapon", when it is glaringly obvious that the Scions do not view WoL that way at all. At most, the only Scion to behave even remotely like this is Alphinaud during A Realm Reborn (and the ARR finale and Heavensward literally show him growing out of that and realizing how arrogant and inconsiderate he'd been.)

I swear I'm not trying to be mean. But I really think you should replay some parts of the game over, because based on what you've said here, I think you're severely misunderstanding many aspects of these characters as individuals.

#Final Fantasy XIV #FFXIV #Estinien Varlineau #Aymeric de Borel #Estimeric #honestly i'm not bothered by the dislike for the ship #i'm more concerned with the strangely out of character interpretations going on here

[piecesofeden11]

Anakin, Obi-Wan, and the Secret of the Star Brick - Part 1 (Day 1-7)

The initial idea was to post this in day-by-day increments, like the advent calendar it was so obviously inspired by, but my muses have gone on quite a ride with me and have insisted I insert *story* and *feelings* into this, frankly, silly idea. So to give all of that adequate room, I'll be posting in four installments instead, covering 7 days each, until Christmas :D Please, enjoy this absolute silliness <3 (Under the cut for length)

Prologue - Part 1 -

1 "Kriff! Is everything okay down there?" Anakin called down from his perch. Even from this distance, he could see Obi-Wan's unimpressed expression, but chose to ignore it for the moment. "Hold on, I'm coming down." Jumping, and landing smoothly, Anakin joined Obi-Wan next to the curious container. It was of an odd, shapeless, well, shape, completely translucent and seemed sturdy but still gave easily when prodded.

More importantly, however, they could clearly see that someone was inside.

"Careful", Obi-Wan called out, when Anakin ignited his saber. "You don't know if-"

"Well, I'm sure we can handle whoever's in there between the two of us. And what if it's someone who needs help?"

Not waiting for a reply, Anakin sliced down onto the strange container. An unpleasant smell, similar, yet completely different from melting plastoid, filled his nostrils, but the container now had an opening.

"Get back! I have a weapon!" an unfamiliar voice yelled. It sounded young, and clearly frightened but admirably tough as well.

Obi-Wan gestured towards Anakin's saber, who quickly turned it off. "It's alright. We have no intentions of harming you", he called out and took a step back, allowing whoever the person was space to exit their confinement.

More of that odd rustling, as the person struggled free. Anakin felt his skin prickle, an uneasy feeling and when he looked at Obi-Wan, he saw his Master's former self similarly tense.

"Don't move", the voice demanded again, and then, a person - no - a child emerged from the container, a mop of short blonde hair on top of their head, brandishing - a single stud. "I'm a good shot, I warn you!", they threatened again.

Anakin snorted a laugh. "I bet you are, kid." The stud hit his head with staggering precision. "Outch, hey!" He glared at the child while rubbing his forehead. The child, in turn used the distraction to dash past him, bringing some distance between themselves and the two men.

Out of the corner of his eye, Anakin could see Obi-Wan hiding a smile, before turning towards the child, hands raised placatingly. "We're not going to hurt you, please. My name is Obi-Wan and this here is Anakin. What can we call you?"

The child kept eyeing them both wearily, but some of the tension bled out of their shoulders already. Obi-Wan had that effect on people. "I'm Omega", the child said after a long pause, then added, almost as an afterthought, a reflex of good upbringing. "Nice to meet you."

"It is very nice to meet you, too, Omega. Do you happen to know where we are? We have stumbled upon this place quite by accident, I'm afraid and have, consequently stumbled upon you as we were looking for way out."

"You're Jedi, aren't you?" Omega blurted out in place of an answer, eyes wide as she spotted the lightsaber dangling from Anakin's belt. "Y-you're not going to harm me, are you? I never had the chip, I never hurt a Jedi!"

"Harm you? No, of course not!" Obi-Wan exchanged a brief, confused look with Anakin. "I'm afraid there's a lot to unpack here. You are not from here, either, are you?"

"No. I was with my family and then there was this loud bang and everything went dark and then I was stuck in that weird foil cage and, well, then you found me." The initial adrenaline seemed to have left her system almost completely, as she began to shake visibly. Anakin could see Obi-Wan's muscles tense with the instinct to comfort her. "I don't know where we are. I want to go back. I need to get back. They'll be worried about me." There was the incoming panic.

Anakin sighed softly, feeling his own sadness and worry pool cold in his belly. "Hey, kid. No worries. We'll figure something out and get you back to your folks in no time. I promise!"

For the first time since she had smacked him in the head with the stud, she really looked at him and he could see the tears swimming in her eyes. Stars, this was really just a child. He knelt down, holding his arms wide. "I promise, we'll take care of you, okay?"

It took a few seconds, but than she cautiously crossed the distance and allowed herself to be hugged. Over her head, Anakin met Obi-Wan's gaze, a complicated mixture of surprise und suspicion in those pretty blue eyes.

2 They managed to construct a shelter from the Aethersprite's ripped off wing and the blankets stored in both Anakin's and Obi-Wan's emergency compartments. It was not necessarily comfortable, but it would serve its purpose. "It's not like we're planning to stay long anyways, right?" Anakin said as he stood before the finished product, arms crossed and tilting his head in skepticism.

Next to him, Obi-Wan tilted his head the other way, as if that would somehow make the whole thing seem less shoddy and threadbare. He shrugged. "I suppose it will have to do."

From somewhere over their shoulder, Artoo beeped. They turned in unison, to find Omega, flanked by the two astromechs looking towards the monument. "Who could have build such a thing?" she wondered, clearly in conversation with the two droids.

"Not a clue", Anakin said, walking up next to her. "And I don't much care, as long as it helps us get back home, hm? So, shall we check out that second chamber?" Anakin was already strolling forward, hands reached up, feeling for the chamber's door through the Force. Just as with Omega's, the strange thin material came open easily and in the chamber behind, they could see the shapes of another translucent containment pod.

"Another prisoner?", Obi-Wan asked, his hand once again smoothing over his jaw.

"Only one way to find out!" With a soft grunt, Anakin wrapped the Force around the pod and pulled it free. It landed with a rustling noise and the distinct clatter of - "Are those ship parts?"

"They could be! Let's get it closer to the camp."

Another effortless display of the Force later, the pod sat on the floor between all five of them, carefully opened to reveal what indeed looked like an assortment of ship parts, bricks and studs of different sizes and functions.

"Curious", Obi-Wan mused, twisting and turning one of the studs in his hand. "I wonder what these are used for." His gaze wandered back to the monument for a moment, the chamber's door flapping oddly in a low breeze. Something about it, however, caught his eye. "Is that- wait here for a moment, will you?"

"Not like we have anywhere else to go", Anakin called after Obi-Wan's retreating back, than shrugged when Omega gave him a questioning stare. "His ideas are usually good."

A moment later, Obi-Wan came jogging back to them, the actual full door folded in his hand and a triumphant grin on his face. "It's a manual", he announced, delighted.

"A - manual? For what?"

"For the parts! Here, look, if we put this and this together, like so and then -" The bricks began floating in front of them, twisting and circling before clicking together. Something began to take shape.

"Huh", Anakin said, when the finished object sat between them on the ground. "That looks almost like Cad Bane's ship, only, well, tiny."

"Cad Bane?" Obi-Wan asked, confusing Anakin for a moment before he remembered, that this version of Obi-Wan had probably not met the bounty hunter yet.

"Oh, yeah, some guy we- I- you know, my version of you and I, ran into quite often. Anyways-" Anakin quickly turned his attention back on the pile of bricks. He probably should not tell an Obi-Wan from the past too much about future events anyways. "Seems like we have few spare parts now. I think I can use those for the repairs.

"And what do we do with this thing?", Omega asked, poking at the miniature ship.

"I suggest we leave it for now. I'm still not certain whether this monument might not be of significance for the locals." "Which we haven't even met yet. Who knows if there even are any?"

Obi-Wan lifted an eyebrow, crossing his arms. "Which is why I keep suggesting we investigate a little more. Perhaps that would also give us some clues as to how we get back to our own times."

"You do that, I'll get to repairing. Artoo, you comin'?"

3 As Anakin busied himself with fitting the few parts they had garnered the day before, Obi-Wan did go off to explore the mysterious monument.

Whoever had built it, certainly had been most impressive, given the size of the thing alone. Combined with the curious and unfamiliar paintings applied to it, it was a thrilling puzzle and one Obi-Wan was all too eager to crack.

After strolling around the site for a while, seeing if there was any signs of local life about, he sat down at the bottom of the monument for a bit. There was a distinct hum to it, a vibrant and strong sense of the Force, that seemed to almost call to him. Closing his eyes, he sank into a meditative state, reaching out to the world around him.

It felt oddly familiar and compeletely alien all at once. There was the shape of his starfighter, banged up but known, there was the small black hole in the Force where R4 took up space. There was all manner of small lifeforms in the underbrush and that, in itself was also not a new sensation.

Then there was Anakin. Or rather, a version of Anakin. He certainly felt like Anakin, talked like him, too. A little older, a little wiser, perhaps, yes, but still, at his core, Anakin. Being around him was, for lack of a better word, soothing. In this odd, foreign place, there was comfort in knowing at least someone.

"Hey, sorry if I'm interrupting." Ah, yes. Definitely Anakin. Obi-Wan slowly cracked open an eye to find Anakin standing in front of him, bent slightly at the waist, a sheepish grin on his face. It gave Obi-Wan a good opportunity to study him a little more up close. The changes were stark, yet fascinating. He itched to ask this Anakin about his scar, about the lines under his eyes, about the deeply haunted look behind them.

"Can I help you?", he asked instead.

Anakin pointed upwards, at the monument. "I was thinking of cracking open door number three. See if that gets us any new information."

"Ah, certainly." Obi-Wan cracked his neck a few times and then got back up, patting the dust and dirt - of which there was surprisingly little around - from his robes. "Allow me."

This time, Obi-Wan did the honors of cracking the door and floating the pod down to their camp. As they opened this one up, he could not help feel a small sense of excitement, almost. The wonder and curiosity of what they might have discovered this time. The hope that it would perhaps be another clue as to where they were.

Finding another manual on the door, they quickly assembled the new pile of bricks. Anakin gave a whistle of appreciation at the finished product. "That's an N-1! Neat paintjob, too."

"And also, once again, rather small."

"But we have more leftovers, so more parts for me to work with." Anakin had his arms full of them already, beaming at Obi-Wan with the achingly familiar boyish charm that he had, before dashing over to the wreckage of Obi-Wan's fighter. Yes, this was most definitely Anakin.

As he settled down in their makeshift shelter, Obi-Wan wondered what his Anakin was doing right now. He tried not to dwell too much on his.

4 Anakin ran out of parts not that much later, idly kicking at the dust when Obi-Wan came to join him and rubbing his hands on a rug. His brow was creased in a frown as he studied his handiwork, the Aethersprite still looking more broken than anything.

"Not going as planned?", Obi-Wan asked, gently, as he recognized the signs of frustration in Anakin's tense shoulders. Despite being older than his own Padawan, it was still rather easy for Obi-Wan to read this Anakin.

"It's okay. I'm making progress and I should get this ship up and running again soon, but-" Anakin halted, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth until it turned pink and slightly puffy from the treatment. "Well, then there's still my ship and the question of how the kriff we're going to get out of here."

"I'm sure something will turn up. We ended up here somehow. It must be possible for that process to be reversed."

Anakin gave him a long, odd look and then laughed dryly. "What I hear you saying there, Master, is Trust in the Force, Anakin. And you're right. I should. I will." He looked off towards the monument, swallowed and then squared his shoulders. "In fact, I'm gonna go see what's behind the next door."

"Be careful, Anakin. There's still a lot at play here that we don't understand."

Anakin turned back to Obi-Wan with a devastatingly handsome smile. "When am I ever not careful, Master?"

"Oh, I could think of an occasion or two. And that's just for as long as I've known you", Obi-Wan replied, fighting the fond smile tugging at his lips. He began following Anakin's long strides towards the monument, walking at a much more sedate pace himself.

The structure, by now almost familiar loomed over them, eerie and mysterious as ever. As Obi-Wan watched, another door began opening under Anakin's expert manipulations and they soon carried yet another container back to camp, the instructions right along with it.

"Alright", Anakin said, rubbing his hands before he tore open the crinkling material. "These could almost be Aethersprite parts", he exclaimed, holding one of the studs up for Obi-Wan's inspection. Obi-Wan nodded knowledgably, having absolutely no idea what function any of these pieces could have in the wreckage.

"With you talent, I'm sure any of these could be useful, Anakin", he said instead and noticed, not unpleased, the rosy pink undertone that snuck onto Anakin's cheeks.

"Yeah, well. The closer to the original, the better. Hey Omega, you wanna have a look at this, too? Artoo, I could use a claw or two here, buddy."

The construction slowly took shape, their teamwork getting better and better by the day. When Omega placed the last piece, there was a short electrical burst and suddenly the construct began moving, unfolding, transforming into the distinct shape of a pit droid in front of them.

"What a fun color he has!", Omega explaimed, delighted and reached out to pat the little droid on the hat-like head. It jumped back slightly, it's optical sensors moving rapidly from one to the next.

"H-h-hallo", it started, speech slightly rusty. "Whe-e-ere am I?"

Anakin approached the droid, hands up in the air in a friendly, unthreatening gesture. "Hey there, buddy. I'm afraid that is a question none of us can answer. Do you have a designation Something we can call you?"

The droid appeared to think for a moment, a light at the center of his chest dimming and relighting rhythmically. "3X-H0", it said at last.

"Hohoho, huh? Is it okay, if we call you 3X?"

"Acceptable."

"Well, 3X, welcome to our little band of castaways. Can you tell me where you come from?"

Once again, the light began pulsing, as 3X searched its memory bank. "Ne-ne-negative. No core memories from before assembly. I'm sorry." The droid seemed to pick up on the disappointment in the group rather quickly, bowing its head in shame.

Anakin sighed. "Well, so much for a new clue, but hey. We got a new buddy who I'm sure can help us. 3X, are you familiar with the basic functionality of a sub light drive?"

"A-a-affirmative. Maintenance and repair of propulsion technology is my core directive."

"Excellent! You can come with me, then."

5 The next day began much the same as the one's before. Anakin tinkered, now assisted by both Artoo as well as 3X, while Omega watched. Meanwhile Obi-Wan did his best to keep their camp somewhat tidy, not an easy task when the entire camp was also, essentially, Anakin's workshop.

That task somewhat accomplished, and seeing that Anakin was still buried deep within the Aethersprite's left engine, Obi-Wan decided to take care of today's door.

"Can I join?" Omega piped up behind him as he was just about to set out.

"Certainly, young one."

She smiled and quickly caught up, joining him on the short trek towards the monument. "What do you think it is?", she asked as they came to stand at the base once again, the ground starting to show signs of their continued presence.

"I have a few theories, each one more unlikely than the next, but I'm certain that whatever it may be, it is the answer to all of our routes home." Obi-Wan gently put a hand against the smooth surface and closed his eyes, allowing the monument's strong Force aura to seep into him, showing him the way to their next door. "Will you step back there for a second, my dear? Thank you. Careful, it's coming down now."

"It's so cool how you do that, you know. I've never really been around Jedi before. My brothers knew some but to see you do what you do from up close is something else for sure."

Obi-Wan chuckled softly, as he turned to lift both the door and container up to float them back to camp, Omega falling back into step beside him.

"You must miss your brothers a great deal." "I do, but I'm glad I landed with you guys. I think we'll figure this all out and then I'm back home before they even notice I'm gone." Obi-Wan could tell that she was doing her best to put on a brave facade and respected that, refraining from poking any further. Instead, he nodded ahead to where their camp came into view.

Artoo and R4 were off by Anakin's fighter, bickering in rapid binary about some problem or another, both with several tools exuding from their barrel shaped bodies.

3X was going through their collection of artefacts and tried, to Obi-Wan's great delight, to bring some order into that area as well. It was a valiant, but ultimately vain endeavor, as Anakin was likely to tear into it again very soon, once the new parts came in and might require additions from the pile.

Anakin himself stood in the middle of the camp, by their makeshift seating area, his back turned towards Obi-Wan and Omega's approach. Still, the tension in his shoulders spoke volumes and just before they entered within earshot, Obi-Wan bent towards Omega. "Dear, how would you like to take on our little building project today?"

She looked up at him, surprise written clearly across her features and then grinned. "Really? Oh, I'd love that! I can get Artoo and R4 and 3X to help me, too!" With an extra bounce in her step she dashed off to gather the droids, while Obi-Wan deposited the container and instructions within their designated building area.

He could feel Anakin coming closer before he even heard it, the Force rolling off him like a bow wave.

"New pieces?", Anakin asked gruffly.

"Indeed, but I've already promised this project to Omega." Obi-Wan could hear the sharp intake of breath and quickly lifted a hand. "I was hoping I might squirrel you away for a sparing match instead. It's been a few days now and I'm feeling rather stiff. I thought the movement could do us both some good."

Anakin frowned, his eyes darting quickly between Obi-Wan, Omega and the pile of pieces and studs in front of her. He worried his bottom lip again, a really rather distracting habit if Obi-Wan had anything to say about it and then sighed. "Sure, why not."

Summoning his lightsaber to his hand, he followed Obi-Wan towards an open space within sight of the camp, rolling his shoulders as he did so.

"Three out of five for a start?", Obi-Wan inquired, making sure to sound extra cheerful. Anakin just grunted his assent, then cracked his neck a few times, causing Obi-Wan to purse his lips. "Still with that habit, I see?"

"It helps with the headaches. I forgot how much of a talker you are throughout duels." Anakin's brow was still dark, but at least he was throwing quips now, which Obi-Wan counted as progress.

Shedding his outer robe, he circled his own arms a few times, then took his first stance, igniting the blue blade of his saber, ensuring that it was set to stun, not kill.

Anakin followed his lead, readying himself in the familiar form V and then waiting exactly one split of a second before launching into a powerful attack, that nearly cost Obi-Wan his first point. The difference between his Padawan and this older version of him became starling clear in the way he had finetuned his skills.

Anakin had always been powerful and a nimble fighter, but his impatience had often diminished the effect of those attributes. This Anakin, however, had obviously learned to quell some of that impatience. He was attacking with precision, often anticipating Obi-Wan's moves before he himself was even half aware of them. It made for the most refreshingly exciting spar Obi-Wan has had in a very long time.

Three out of five turned into best of seven, then nine and soon they stopped counting hits, simply moving on whenever a strike landed, until they were both drenched and out of breath.

But, just as Obi-Wan had hoped, Anakin was grinning now, clearly enjoying himself, as he taunted Obi-Wan once again, baiting him into one last attack.

It was an obvious trap but Obi-Wan willingly indulged him, lunging forward in a sloppy, open attack, that Anakin parried easily, sidestepping him and then nearly bringing Obi-Wan down to his knees with a well-placed elbow to his back.

Obi-Wan switched of his saber with a hiss and heard Anakin's do the same behind his back. Wiping the sweat from his brow, he turned to congratulate the other man on an excellent performance, when the words got stuck in his throat.

Anakin, clearly heated up from the intensity of the duel, had shrugged off his tunic altogether and was wiping the sweat of his face with it. His broad chest glistened under this strange light of this world's sun, expanding and contracting with his slowly calming breath.

What Obi-Wan's eyes were drawn to, however, was the gleaming black and gold construction that sat where Anakin's lower right arm shoulder have been. He could see mechanical pieces move and shift with each motion of the limb.

Questions began to race through his mind, scenarios and nightmares taking shape next.

"Oh, yeah." Anakin must have noticed him staring, as he lifted the prothesis up into the light and wiggled his fingers, still encased in a black glove. "That's a long story which I'm not supposed to tell you. Just know that it's not as bad as it looks and it doesn't hider me at all." He smiled lopsidedly and then wrapped his tunic around his neck like a towel. "Thanks for this, by the way. I think I need that. Should be go and see what Omega managed to build?"

Obi-Wan needed a second to clear his mind, but then he nodded, wiping his own face with the sleeves of his tunic. "Yes, yes I think we should. And afterwards, perhaps a bath might be in order."

"Lead the way then, Master."

6 With Omega's project yielding very little in terms of new parts, Anakin took Artoo out to the monument early the next day, Omega dashing after him the moment she noticed them leaving. Not quite the inconspicuous retreat Anakin had hoped for, but he did not mind the company too much. If anything, the girl's presence made him miss Ahsoka just a little bit, fueling his determination to find them all a way out of this mess.

"So, let's see. Six should be the number of the day, huh?" Together, they quickly located the corresponding door and pried it open. "Another day, another bag, kid. Let's see what we can build toda- Woah!"

The clear containment bag nearly feel out of it's holding chamber by itself, with muffled shouts coming from within.

"Is there a person in there?", Omega asked, eyes wide, just as Anakin ignited his saber.

"I think so. Step back, kid!" Hastily slashing an opening into the bag, Anakin moved so he could have Omega behind himself, shielding her from potential harm.

Just how correct that instinct was, became clear a second later, when a fully armoured and most of all armed cloner trooper rolled out of the cointainment bag, pointing a rather impressive flame thrower at both of them. "Hand's up where I can see them", he shouted, his voice warped by the helmet but distinctly related to Rex and Cody and all their brothers. Omega drew a sharp breath in, but Anakin held out a hand, keeping her from moving.

"At ease, soldier", Anakin began, trying to appear as unthreatening as possible. "Not to pull rank, but you are pointing a gun at a General of the Grand Army of the Republic here, so perhaps lower that a little?"

The soldier's hand shook a little bit, but he kept his gun trained firmly on Anakin's chest. "You are a Jedi. You are marked as a traitor and supposed to be executed by the law of the Emperor." Where his gun hand was mostly steady, the trooper's voice shook much more heavily, his words sounding rehearsed rather than convinced. Anakin narrowed his eyes at him, his saber twitching at his belt.

"By law of how now?"

"The Galactic Emperor. Please, stand back from the child so we can avoid unecessary casualties."

"Oh, yeah, I don't that's going to happen, pal. See, I-"

"What in the blazes is going on here?" Obi-Wan, drawn by the comotion, joined the standoff, his arms crossed in a deceptivly relaxed pose. Anakin knew just too well, just how deadly a relaxed Obi-Wan could be.

The soldier, by the color of his armor clearly a member of the 212th, turned towards him and suddenly, the shaking of his hand got a lot worse. So much, that his flamerthrower clattered to the ground, his hands coming up in defeat. "G-general Kenobi- how-how is this possible, sir? I-Commander Cody-he-"

Obi-Wan lifted a hand and the trooper immediatly shut up, his shoulders going ramrod straight. "I'm sorry, but I'm afraid I must stop you right there. See, you, me, all of us here are in a bit of a predicament in that we've been thrown into this strange place with no idea how or why. The only thing we have figured out so far, is that all of us come from vastly different points in time. So I'm afraid I have not personally met you yet and do not know your Commander either. Neither, it seems, have you met Anakin or Omega here, or else I would be curious as to why you would point a gun at either of them."

Anakin opened his mouth to add the trooper's comment about an Emperor as well, but Obi-Wan shut him up just as quickly as the trooper before. "I believe it is in all of our best interests to keep information about our respective lives to a very bare minium. Meaning, I would simply ask your name and hope that you will join us in finding a way out of here. Can we agree on that?"

The trooper remained silent for a long time, so much that Anakin almost suspected, he had fainted inside of his armor and was simply propped up by the firm material.

"That sounds agreeable, General." He turned towards Anakin and Omega. "Apologise to you, too. I will do my best to assist you in this mission."

"Excellent. Now that we've gotten that out of the way, I suggest we all sit down for breakfast and then see how we proceed from here on out. Oh, and please, call me Obi-Wan. I am no General and have no ambitions to be one, either. What did you say your name was?"

"It's CT-2412, Sir."

"Well, that seems a bit of a mouthful now."

"My brothers call me Jay."

As Obi-Wan lead Jay towards their camp, Anakin stayed behind for a moment. Sadness settled heavy in his stomach, as he realized just how much this Obi-Wan's life would soon be thrown for a loop once he returned to his own time.

"You may not want to be, but you'll be the greatest General of them all", he muttered under his breath, ignoring the strange look Omega threw his way and then picked up a wayward stud from the ground to attach to one of their ships. He did not feel like breakfast much.

7 A strange bleakness had settled of their camp by the next morning and everyone's mood was just this side of sad as they sat in a circle to share their rations for breakfast. Anakin had decided the next morning to let Obi-Wan get the next door on his own, opting to keep an eye on the clone trooper, who still did not seem quite like he had found his footing in their strange situation.

When Obi-Wan returned with a new package of parts, they assembled it in silence, holding very little hope for something that might actually solve their problem.

It was an all the more pleasant surprise when it became clear what they had just found. "An actual, functioning coms tower!" Anakin's mood actually lifted by some degree when he pressed the power button on the device and the antenna's top began swirling in lazy circles. "I can rig our coms for that frequency. That way, we should be able to explore a little further and still keep in touch?"

"That could proof very helpful. Good thinking, dear."

Anakin's smile grew wider still at the praise, his cheeks turning slightly pink. "With a little luck we might just find enough parts that I can strengthen the signal beyond this planet. Perhaps we can get in touch with someone in this, well, world? Galaxy? Who knows!"

"A fortifying prospect, indeed. I think we can chalk this day up as successful, hm?" Obi-Wan tried to share in Anakin's sudden burst of optimism, but somehow, his heart still felt heavy. Something in his mind kept nudging at him to be mindful, to not take peace for granted. For the first time since he had crashed on this strange planet, he felt like there was something darker, more sinister at play.

Anakin returned to his side about an hour later, triumphantly holding up two commlinks. "Tada! Not an ideal built but it should do the trick." He looked so proud, so radiant, that it almost broke Obi-Wan's heart. Because in that moment, all of the youth of his Padawan years came to the forefront and it made Obi-Wan ache with longing. Stars, he wanted to get home, no needed to get home.

Trying not to let his emotions show, Obi-Wan took the com and fitted it to his belt. "Good job, dear", he praised instead, knowing it would sufficiently distract Anakin's attention. "I think, I will make use of it right away and see if I cannot find anything useful further beyond the monument."

Anakin's shoulders sagged a little, his head tilting to the side. "Are you sure? I mean, I could come with you. We don't know what's out there and even with the com, I mean. I'm fast but who knows where you'll be and -" "Anakin."

"Yeah?"

Obi-Wan shook his head with a soft, patient smile. "I am touched by your concern, but I believe if anything, or anyone, had intentions of harming us, they would have had plenty of chances already. I am also somewhat proficient with my lightsaber, even if maybe not quite as much as you. So I'm sure I'll be fine on a small expedition on my own."

While he did not appear completely convinced, Anakin only pursed his lips and kept quite, as much an admission of surrender as Obi-Wan would probably ever get. "Just- give me regular updates, okay? And if the com gets out of range, you turn back!"

"I'm not a youngling, dear. But I promise not too venture too far out."

Anakin's despondent pout burning into the back of his neck, Obi-Wan set out a few minutes later, a couple of rations packed in his belt pockets, his saber attached and at the ready. Omega waved him off with a cheery "See you later!" and Jay saluted, despite Obi-Wan's insistence that it was not necessary.

When night fell that evening, the com remained silent and not a single trace of Obi-Wan.

TBC

#star wars #anakin skywalker #obi-wan kenobi #obikin #my writing #lego star wars #obikin christmas countdown #my silly little christmas tale #fanfiction

[dinoburger]

But the Moment Just Slipped Through My Hands

submitting to the time honored tradition of Expiration Date fics - slightly Science Party flavoured. I just wanted to put it out there, ik maybe I could stand to sprinkle in more funny speech mannerisms for both Engie and Medic - maybe this will be for another day. I also wanted to illustrate more of it but I could save that for the Ao3 version...

2k words - more focused on Medic and Engie but there's a dash of HeavyMedic in there, not exactly shipping focused

(title is from Gone in an Instant - I hope nobody is keeping track of how many times I reference Black Dresses in various work bc I'm sure it's starting to add up)

-🍞-

The smell of bread had a tendency to float in the air in almost every corner of their current base of operations – fated to be their last, so they assumed – but was even thicker now in the already stuffy laboratory. Slightly more sour than usual too, due to the effects of the teleporter.

After they’d reported their findings to the rest of the team, the resident medic and engineer had hurried back to continue their work, hoping for more answers. It was natural, to both of them, but in the lulls between furiously experimenting, exchanging notes and prompting each other with questions about their respective areas of expertise, Dell found himself staring at the doctor with a pang of guilt.

The medic, as was usual when presented with cataclysmic disaster, confronted it with a mixture of stern determination and delighted morbid curiosity. Regardless, impending doom weighed heavy on the shorter’s shoulders.

“You don’t feel hard-done by, spending your last days cooped up in this here lab?” he scratched his neck, leaning back against the bench’s counter.

“If we had more time, maybe – but this is where I am needed most, ja?” the medic scribbled down several more notes, before he spared the engineer a glance. “What about you?”

“So long as I’m not gettin’ in your way.”

“Oh not at all, not at all.” he shook his head, “Really, it’s unfortunate I could not have gotten to know you better sooner – you have a brilliant mind, Herr Engineer.” the doctor’s lips quirked into a small, earnest smile, which caught Dell off guard.

“Aw shucks, Doc.” he retreated into himself a bit. “Just a shame I weren’t brilliant enough to figure out this whole teleporter mess m’self.”

“Ach, you couldn’t have known” Ludwig waved off, “and besides that, some of the greatest discoveries of our time have come at no small cost. What is it they say…? You can’t make an omelette without breaking eggs.”

It was true that medical science had it’s share of horrors, but even so, the doctor felt his optimism slip.

“I must confess, I might have been a touch… sloppy. You would think if something was wrong, the team doctor would be first to pick up on it." he scolded himself. "I am so grateful for the freedom of being out on the field, pushing the boundaries of science and medicine but I’m afraid I have gotten ahead of myself.”

“Heck, I’d say you’d done a dang good job keepin’ us alive so far - ‘spite some of our best efforts.” Dell grinned, which got a laugh out of Ludwig.

“M’ just wonderin’ if you didn’t have nobody special you wanted to see before you, y’know. Bit the dust, so to speak. I can keep things tickin’ over here just fine for a while.”

“Someone ‘special’…? Oh, don’t tell me.” Ludwig snorted. “Those silly rumours about my supposed ‘wife’ are still floating around.”

“I was a tad curious.”

“I might as well give the game up now, she’s not real – never was. I have no time for such things, but ach, some of our comrades are very nosy. It started off as a simple joke to keep them off my back, I didn’t think it would stick, so I never bothered to refute it.”

“I getcha, that makes a hell’ve a lot more sense.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” the man tensed, the amused glint in his eyes exchanged for something sharper and wary.

“Well, when the fellas get gossipin’ about the lady-folk, you never have a whole lot t’ say. Figured if you really did have a spouse waitin’ on ya you’d be more eager to brag.” Dell observed casually.

The doctor released a breath he didn’t realise he’d been holding. “Ah, is that all?”

“Y’know I’m not one to pry, doc. I respect ya too much.”

“Much appreciated.”

Dell paused, picking his next words more carefully. “More surprised you didn’t wanna say your goodbyes to that big fella – two of you seem mighty companionable.”

“Herr Heavy, I assume? We do work closely together, but... it’s hard to say we’re much more than colleagues.”

“You kiddin’? The man’s crazy ‘bout ya – you should see how he lights up the moment he lays eyes on ya. ‘S really somethin’ else.” Dell risked a smile and a sideways glance, the doctor’s face going soft with fondness.

“Well… I suppose I owe it to him to see if I can work this out in time.”

The engineer’s throat seized, his playful smile fading. He’d almost forgotten what the stakes were here.

For the next few minutes, Dell put his head down and worked in solemn silence, the guilt crushing his lungs and forbidding him to talk. He would only will himself to when the doctor had another question, they needed to deliberate their next course of action or sort out notes between each other.

When they’d worked into another lull in their rhythm, the taller of the two eyed up the other.

“...You didn’t have anyone you wanted to see before we expire?” The doctor returned the question.

The engineer shook his head, still half buried in a toolbox. “Nope. Wouldn’t’ve signed up t’ be a mercenary if I did, all part ‘n parcel." he took a breath, considering just biting his tongue again, but somehow leaving Ludwig in the dark felt worse. "Those Mann brothers found me through m’ grandpa, us Conaghers’ve been workin’ with ‘em for decades.”

“Really now?” Doctor Ludwig’s eyebrows twitched up, this was news to him.

Dell knew deep down he wasn’t supposed to talk about this, as mercenaries they were all on a need-to-know basis, but with how the situation was unfolding he found the words spilling out with ease.

“Uh-huh. Lotta his work was kept under lock and key though, up until I joined their employ. Though I can't say I agree with how they got 'em to begin with... it feels like I get ta take part in my heritage, going over his blueprints, studying his notes – like I’m really steppin’ into his shoes ‘n followin’ his footsteps.” the softer, reverent tone he’d taken petered out into a sigh. “I was hopin’ I’d be able t’ finish what he’d started, put an end to this gravel war. Looks like there’ll have to be another generation of recruits after us.”

“It’s still just a job, mein friend, you make of it what you can – and I would say you have gotten more out of it than most would.” the doctor added.

“It ain’t just a job to me.” Dell’s idle tinkering stopped, head hung. “I got all these ideas in my head that I could make it mean somethin', I'd shake things up, I'd make it count - buncha fanciful nonsense." his words took on a harsher edge as he wound himself up.

Doctor Ludwig found himself pausing too, observing the other’s hunched shoulders and arms stiffly gripping the bench.

“What kinda legacy am I leavin’? Maybe I’m just daydreaming, thinkin’ I’m half the man Radigan was. Would he really’ve made a mistake this darn stupid? Doomed all’a his men like this? The hell do I think I’m doin’ out here?” he spat, cursing himself.

Part of him had always known, every force was met with equal resistance, wins and losses balanced themselves out. The RED and BLU mercenaries were nothing but cogs in a much larger machine, to ends he couldn’t fathom.

He kept glaring down at the counter through his goggles, as if raising his head would reveal a great, dark vortex hanging above, deeper than he could possibly see, filled with terrible, grinding machinery. It would use them all up like fuel and spit them out into the ether.

“To hell with legacy.”

Doctor Ludwig broke the tangible silence that had fallen.

“To hell with the Mann brothers, to hell with your grandfather.”

The Conagher bristled and turned on him, mouth twisted into an offended snarl, posture like a coiled spring. “Beg yer pardon?”

“We cannot dictate what the tides of time will choose to spare.” the doctor’s expression was equally grave. “So I say to hell with them all. Your work is worthy, because your life is worthy.” he clamped his hands over either of the engineer’s shoulders, taking the man by surprise.

“I don’t care what kind of man this Radigan Conagher was, I am honoured to have spent this life with his grandson.”

That sent his head spinning.

Dell choked, not sure if he was about to cry or laugh, a shaky grin spread across his features and a wheeze escaped his teeth.

“’P-preciate it, Doc.” he sniffed, flushed with the threat of tears.

Ludwig gave his shoulders a reassuring squeeze before he released him, the tension melting out of the room. “Of course, let’s get back to it, shall we?”

The engineer nodded, turning from him again to regain composure. He pried the goggles up from his eyes just enough to rub the haze from them before returning them to position.

-

Hours bled into a blur, the self-assurance of being able to power through it to the end was starting to crumble. Dell could hardly see straight, neither man had slept since their initial discovery. He’d been the first to give out, going from using the lab bench to prop himself up to sinking entirely onto the cold, concrete floor in a heap. He peeled back his goggles, feeling the grooves across his nose and cheeks from being stuck to his face for so long – no doubt angry red marks by now, he imagined.

The stink of sour bread was getting to him, suffocating, he wanted nothing more than to lay down and let his senses slip away into unconsciousness.

He vacantly stared up at the doctor, who he wasn’t sure was still engaged in their research or just playing with chunks of bread.

Without thinking, he watched the man bring the piece he was holding to his mouth and bit down. He spluttered and spat it back out at once.

“What was the point o’ that?” the engineer snickered.

Ludwig mumbled incoherently, before shrugging, too bleary to come up with a good excuse.

“Surprised you can even tolerate the stuff at this rate, it reeks in here.”

“Ja, well…” the doctor interrupted himself with a groan as he joined the engineer on the floor, joints protesting his descent. “I have smelt a lot worse – try working with corpses and animals for hours on end. Or animal corpses, for that matter.”

Dell shuddered. “No thanks, partner.”

At least Ludwig found his disgust amusing.

It was strange being able to see the other’s face unobscured, the medic had gotten used to thinking of Dell as something vaguely insectoid with those large dark lenses. There were in fact, some pretty impressive red indents on his skin where the googles had been and a tan line to match.

“I jus… need a moment…” he huffed, letting his lids fall closed.

Doctor Ludwig murmured a faint agreement, tucking his own glasses into the pocket of his coat and slumping back against the bench on his side of the laboratory.

“...Doc?”

“Mm?”

“Y’ain’t… scared of disappearin’? Being forgotten?”

“Terrified. But it’s out of my hands.” his lips stayed parted as he chewed it over, consciousness swaying. “I can’t control what I will be remembered for. I can hope that my work will mean something in the face of humanity… that it will not simply be discarded as madness, but I cannot know. At least I can say I never limited myself, that I always… always sought for answers.”

"'S like y' said... if they can't see what it's worth then maybe humanity don't deserve it."

The doctor only hummed in response.

There was something painfully human in his sprawled out form that Dell had never quite seen before, peering out between heavy eyelids. He traced Doctor Ludwig’s sunken cheekbones in his mind, the dark lashes of closed eyes, brow relaxed – neither forming the serious scowl he was used to nor contorted in manic glee, a view clear of the usual thin frames that adorned his nose. He was used to having to peer up at him, with his line of sight only reaching the doctor’s chest.

He wanted to take that image to the ends of the earth, for what time he had left and what consciousness his exhausted mind would allow him.

Glad that the light in the lab was already dim, the engineer shifted to lie down, hissing when his helmet smacked the concrete – he’d forgotten he’d still been wearing it. He fumbled to get it off, not noticing the doctor too shifting to slide out of his coat.

“Here, support your head with this.”

“Huh? Oh, thank ya kindly.” Dell absently took the folded fabric while propped up on his elbows, shimmying to position himself just right.

He also took the opportunity to unfasten his prosthetic to set aside, along with his belt.

“Hey Doc… lemme return the favour.”

Medic squinted.

“I got a pillow y’ can use.” the engineer patted his belly with his remaining hand. “C’mere.”

He didn’t need any further prompting, the taller crawled over and flopped back against him. “Oof, my back is going to hate me for this.” he grumbled. “If you wake first, wake me up too.”

Comfortable wasn’t the right word. Nothing about how the cold floor seeped through the back of his clothes and the skin of his arms was particularly comfortable, even the way the medic rested his weight on his stomach was a little stifling, but he wouldn’t have dared to move.

He could smell the doctor’s scent in the coat tucked under his head, feel the gentle rhythm of his breath, hear the way it stirred in his chest.

“Let’s just stay like this, until the end. Hold me until it’s all over.” Dell wanted to plead.

“Copy that.”

#tf2 #dbarts