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god1ngs · 3 years

Text

━‎ end of the world

synopsis; a forbidden love told for generations

contains; human reader, major character death, swearing, mentions of war, spoilers

god c!technoblade / reader, 3.4k wc

note; the title doesn't make much sense but whatever lol ,, this is for @mayasimagines 's 600 event! congratulations and i hope you like this :)

throughout the fall of countries, the crumbling of empires, there stood a man. he gazed upon the vast land, the grass stained red. buildings had crashed down, debris staining the area around them. they layed in heaps of piles, taller than most. the fallen down buildings had been a sign of the empire's loss.

there was no one alive to commemorate the loss however.

screaming rung inside of his head, shouting and yelling, with some other tones mixed in. displeased and ecstatic and mocking tones blended together, sounds of chaos lingering in the mind of the man. he only sighed, walking away from the destroyed country.

he's seen this happen too many times before, the repetitive cycle of watching a country build itself only to come crashing down years later. they never lasted long. always the one for chaos, he sometimes participated in the destruction of the countries, though most times he didn't need to.

humans were savage, brutal creatures who only cared about themselves. by studying their nature, the way they go about certain scenarios, he had figured out that much. selfish, twisted beings who would betray each other in a heartbeat. all it took was more wealth or a promise of better gear.

how easily swayed they were. technoblade sneered, his red cape dragging beneath him as he stalked the hallways. pillars of quartz, chipped at the edges from years of standing, lined the hallway. they reached the ceiling, some even going higher. the magnificent red carpet he stalked down had ended at a throne.

a throne made of gold, the shiniest material he could get his servants to find. emeralds and diamonds and rubies lined the top of it, the same jewels lining the gold of his crown. at last, he sat down, the voices calming down at the familiar seating area. they always got loud whenever there was destruction.

technoblade, the blood god. also known as the god of war and chaos to many, he wasn't very popular among the peaceful people. people often worshipped him for protection, to which he rarely granted. protection from him, a god of war, was seldom. often he didn't care about the hunans enough to waste his protection on them.

yet, one mortal, had caught his eye. they were nothing too special, middle class and usually someone technoblade wouldn't even spare a glance at. they were different though. they outshined any ray of sun, their smile proving to be the brighter of the two. he found them, despite all odds, very interesting.

later, after wine and more sparring, the man had caught wind of philza coming over. philza, the angel of death, had been one of technoblade's good allies, even so far as to consider the blond a friend. he brought saints to their knees in their final moments, allowing them either an eternity in hell or a peaceful life above.

he wanted to meet them, and technoblade always gets what he wants.

even before technoblade had become the god he is now, forever cursed to watch humanity rip itself apart, he knew philza. the two fought wars together, never straying from their path of loyalty. the blond perched himself on the windowsill, his striking white wings folding on his back, as he smiled at the other. "hello technoblade." he greeted, ever the polite man.

technoblade only scoffed, shaking his head with an amused grin. "please, phil," he drawled, looking from his red wine to the angel of death. "no need for the formalities. just call me techno." the blond threw his head back with a laugh, wide smile painting his features as the other chuckled. "of course, mate."

silence washed over the pair for a moment, a comforting silence that allowed them to bask in the moment od seeing each other. they didn't get to visit often, one thing they mutually hated about being in the sky palace, usually swamped with other duties. philza with guiding people to the afterlife, and technoblade with causing conflict.

"i actually wanted to talk about somethin' with ya, mate." phil broke the silence, hopping off of the marble windowsill to come lean against one of the pillars. the pink haired man, ever so interested, hummed questionably. "and what did you want to speak to me about? come on, spit it out." the man said, looking down at philza.

he sighed, glancing up at technoblade. "you've been acting off, mate. less wars are starting, and that's weird for you. i know you also started protecting that one mortal. fuck, what was their name?" he murmured, brows furrowed. technoblade sighed in annoyance, not wanting to be pestered with questions.

"[name]." he answered phil quietly, not bothering to look back at the blond man. the clouds danced with each other in the sky, entertwining and morphing with each other freely. sometimes he wishes he could be as free as the clouds. "you know," phil said, a mischievous glint shining in his eyes. the blood god could only dread what he was going to say. "rumor has it that gods only protect mortals they're interested in."

the teasing, despite only being light hearted, had a quizzical undertone. while technoblade had been acting strange, protecting somebody was something phil had never expected. either something was special about that mortal and their family, or someone had begun fantasizing. he could only hope it wasn't the latter.

with more conversation, technoblade denying any feelings blooming for a human, phil left to go do his job. he was alone with his thoughts, the voices making him tug at his own hair to keep them quiet. they craved the mortal, despite how much he willed himself to stay in his throne room, the man had to go see them.

it was a normal day for you. nothing was different, much less weird. it was only normal, a basket of bread in your hands as you walked home. you hummed as you stepped on the path, enjoying the peaceful walk back to your house. you were content with your life, having a few people and more deaths than you could count.

and see them he would.

you partially blamed philza, the angel of death, for the passing of your loved ones, but you also knew he wasn't the one to kill them. he simply took them to the afterlife, guiding them to where they would spend the rest of their days. the deaths in your family had piled up, mostly from war and some of falling ill.

you spent your days worshipping gods now. you were always the lonely type, choosing to stay by yourself rather than interact with others. you never minded the comforting embrace of being alone, the silence enveloping you at every given moment. it provided you with a sense of comfort you couldn't get anywhere else.

while you did worship other gods, you mostly worshipped technoblade. he was the primary god, you giving up all your offerings to him ─ ranging from bread to trinkets to gold galore. the tales of the blood god, always grand stories with daring adventures that had you on the edge of your seat, had always intrigued you.

your favorite, the one you read the most to the slim amount of people you did contact, was the tale of the butcher army. when he was human, a detail that many didn't know whether to believe or not, he blew up many countries. it hinted at the start of him being the god of war many years later. for punishment, the butcher army hunted him down.

they lied to the man, once they had captured him, in which they had prepared for his execution. some say he died that day, only to be revived due to the gods holy whim; others say he had never died, and broke out of the iron bars to kill the men who had hunted him down. learning about the magnificent god, a god you admired, had faced an army of four and won, allowed you to admire him even further.

once you got home, setting down your basket of bread, you had sighed. you always liked coming home, your safe space filling you with a joy like no other. the everlasting comfort of your home, a familiar place you longed to be at constantly, helped you feel safe. the comforting feeling of being home at last filled you at peace.

until it wasn't so peaceful anymore.

from your kitchen came a clanging noise. there were a few grunts followed afterwards, your eyes wide. fear flooded your system, nervousness coursing through your veins. you stayed silent, hoping you'd either been dreaming or had been imagining sounds. however, once a voice spoke, you knew that was not the case.

from your kitchen came, with his red cape dragging behind him, technoblade. you stammered, confusion replacing your previous nervousness. your grip came loose on the item you were holding, not being able to process what you were seeing. "well this is awkward." the god stated, putting your kitchen utensils he had just knocked down back on your counter.

if anything, this was awkward. very awkward. who expected a god to come through their kitchen window? "uh, do you," you stuttered, voice measily yet you still tried to fight it out. "do you mind telling me why you're here?" it was more than odd to see a god in your kitchen, the sight one hard to believe for even yourself.

technoblade had sighed, draping himself over your couch cushions as if he lived there. his arms, unlike your bare ones, spread across the back of your couch, the sight making you nearly sigh. "well, mortal, i had taken intrest in you." he answered bluntly, your mind still reeling from the fact that he was even here, but taking interest in you? no, this had to be some kind of joke.

the visible confusion highlighting your features made the god chuckle. it was amusing, seeing the looks on mortals' faces whenever something odd or unexplainable happened. "what's so confusing? i took interest in you, and so i came down here to see you." the blood god explained, shrugging his shoulders. the confusion you felt only worsened.

why was the question. why was a god in your house? why had he taken interest in you? you shook your head, suddenly feeling lightheaded. "sorry, i need to sit down." you muttered, trying to regain your footing. you sat down, going slowly as to not pass out in front of him. "so," you spoke up as soon as you had calmed down. "why have you taken interest in me?"

a cloud of silence loomed over the two of you, technoblade falling into his thoughts. why had he taken interest in you? there was no particular shining traits in you, even if he studied you as if you had carved out the world with your own hands; he watched you as if you had brung down a fantastic reign upon everybody.

"who knows?" he wondered aloud, a hum of amusement following his words. technoblade didn't know the reason for it, and despite itching with curiosity, he didn't bother trying to find out. he only let it be, coming to terms with the fact that you, a mortal, had piqued his interest. you kept him entertained, and that's all that mattered.

after the two of you talking more, you still trying to get over the shock that the blood god was in your home, you had to say that he was fairly a nice guy. maybe he was kinder than all of the other ones, however you've never crossed paths with a god either, so you couldn't tell. when technoblade had stood up, braided hair falling against your couch, you knew it was time for him to go.

he turned to look down on you, his towering figure highly intimidating. there was a reason he was feared across nations. he stared at you for a second, maybe deciding on what to say, though you couldn't tell with his blank expression. the man only sighed, wishing you a good day, and then turned to leave.

"you've got me interested, technoblade."

you only spoke to the god more after the first encounter. seconds turned into minutes and then minutes turned to hours. he was an interesting guy, choosing which emotion to show and when to show it. perhaps it came with being a god. as he came by more, each visit surprising you, you only talked to him more.

"as you've got me, [name]."

soon he started telling you stories. the butcher army, the l'manberg war, how he met philza. he told you great things of philza, the angel of death, so much so you nearly stopped disliking philza. you were always interested in his stories though, no matter how long or how action packed. each further lured you in to his grasp.

technoblade, however, had stopped visiting so often. with more conflict arising everyday, he didn't have as much time to visit you anymore ─ philza was starting to catch on as well. how he wasn't home as often or how he lied to philza each time he asked him where he was. he was getting suspicious, and wanted answers quickly.

philza confronted technoblade on this issue a while later. his wings puffed up confidently, he was so sure something was going on with his eldest friends, the edges torn at the seams. "technoblade." he addressed politely, standing in front of his throne once again, as he did not so long ago. he would get answers out of him.

technoblade only sighed, his cheek pressed against his closed fists as he stared at philza. "yes, philza?" he asked, voice heavy with exhaustion. the recent wars, as much as he loved the excitement and panic that came with it, have been too tiring for him. he also couldn't visit you that morning, only pissing him off more.

"have you been seeing the mortal you told me you had interest in?"

silence crashed over the room, violent in its malicious intent. phil's questioned nipped at the blood god, desperately pleading for an answer. philza sighed, one of disappointment and perhaps even anger. the silence was enough of an answer. "mate, are you kidding me?"

technoblade merely sighed, eyes narrowing at the blond. "you have no say on who i take interest in, phil. that is none of your concern." he dismissed the blond, turning back to look at the window. philza had no say in what technoblade done with his life, no matter how long the two have been friends.

"none of my concern? mate, they're a mortal and you're a god! hell, the blood god! for fucks sake, mate, you can't be seeing mortals!" philza snapped, brows furrowed and cheeks red from anger. the trouble a god could get in from seeing a mortal was irredeemable.

if technoblade got caught with the mortal, he would lose not only his titles, but his life. he would be executed.

technoblade merely scoffed however, rolling his eyes. "as if i'll get caught, philza. those laws are stupid anyways. what, are you going to tell on me?" he arched his brows at the angel of death, sneering at him. how dare he barge into his temple and then go off at him; a beloved friend of his.

however, the mortal was too intresting to not keep seeing. he may of even caught feelings. how laughable ─ the blood god, feared across empires, falling for a mere mortal. philza only sighed, rubbing his temples. he weighed his options: technoblade could continue seeing the mortal, get caught, and then both of them get in trouble.

or philza could tell the council. tell them of his affairs, tell them why he hasn't been here as often. once more, a vicious silence swept over them. only for a moment, for philza had declared:

"if you don't stop seeing this mortal, i'll have no choice but to stop it. don't make me do it, mate."

his evening visit was late that night. you had already prepared dinner, setting it up for when he was to arrive. from what he's told you, he hasn't had human food in a long time. he told you that gods didn't need to eat nor sleep. you had decided to make him food for when he comes, wanting him to have food even if he doesn't need it.

the gust of wind from deceiving angel wings swept across his face. messy hair cascaded over his face, and for once, the blood god had found a problem he didn't know he could solve.

ten minutes. twenty minutes. thirty minutes. you sighed at the mocking tick of the clock, each passing second being another sign that he wasn't going to come. perhaps he had better things to do. frowning, you began to gather the food up, knowing you wouldn't eat it all, before the familiar two knocks came at your door.

rushing over, once you had opened it, you were surprised to see something different than you were used to.

technoblade was there, but he looked different. more angry, perhaps even upset.

worried, you frowned at the god. "are you okay?" you asked, hoping the man was alright. the god only nodded, staring at the ground. he came back to you after a moment of silence, sighing. "yes, just got caught up in some things. nothing for you to be concerned of." he said, brushing you off before you could even speak.

when technoblade had gone back to his temple, rubbing his temples with a sigh, something unexpected had greeted him. there was philza, perched on the window with a firm look of coldness. "visiting the mortal again, were you, mate?" he asked once he had came into view. technoblade had half a mind to tell him to fuck off.

that night provided a great distraction from what would come the following days.

no words were spoken from technoblade afterwards. the betrayal of another friend, a promise to do something about his meetings, had wounded him. he didn't want to lose philza, but also had begun to realise something ─ he had caught feelings for the mortal.

for you, who had been the sunshine on his darkest days. call it a cliche, but technoblade truly didn't know happiness if you weren't by his side. having watched countless deaths and falls of kingdoms over the many, many years of being alive, the man had never found as great of a comfort than by your side. you were the sun to his moon, a forever shining force to his immortal darkness.

though the moon and sun are destined to never touch.

that night, philza had technoblade bring him to your house under promise of telling the council. they had shown up to your house late at night, when the world was asleep. it had been abrupt, the two males coming into your home. you were shaking, scared as to what this meant. the angel of death and the blood god inside your home could mean nothing good.

and you were right. that night, that forsaken night, technoblade had been cursed in front of your eyes. the wide eyed look on his face, the shock of what a former friend could do. you tried to reach out for him, but were stopped by philza. he permitted you to stay still, or else your blood would be on your walls.

"technoblade, the blood god and the god of war, i hereby sentence you to an eternity of reincarnation. as long as you are alive, your lover, [name] [last name], will be killed and reincarnated. only ever letting you get close enough to hardly touch them."

your words were caught in your throat, the cruel punishment knocking the wind out of you. philza's eyes shone, bright in an unholy way, rising up with his wings behind him. technoblade had felt the burning sensation of a marking, a forever sign of the curse, on the side of his neck. a flower had been burnt into the side of his neck, your favorite flower.

"i'm sorry, technoblade." were the last words you heard before a sword made of light had stabbed through your stomach.

the blood god had frantically scooped up your body in his arms, panicking for the first time since you've seen him. he tried to get you to say anything, although the words were too hard to say, no matter how hard you tried to get them out. he reassured you would be okay, despite knowing the inevitable would happen.

"you should've listened to him ... heh, you're a dumbass, you know that?"

you took your last breath seconds later.

#dream smp x reader #dream smp x you #dream smp x y/n #mcyt x reader #mcyts x reader #technoblade x you #technoblade imagines #technoblade x reader #dream smp techno #technoblade x y/n #angst #c!technoblade x reader #( ♡ ) + bones writes #( ♡ ) + oneshots

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wtf-yoongi · 3 years

Text

Softie. / MYG

pairing | yoongi x reader

summary | just a morning with min yoongi 🥺

prompts | “i love you more than coffee.” *distant gasps* + “every morning you kiss my forehead before i leave for work, why was it my lips today?” from this prompt list.

genre/warnings | disgustingly fluffy + very domestic

words | 1,990

note | i wanted to write something like this and then it fitted the prompt someone requested two ages ago and it became way too long for a timestamp and here we are

Very rarely does something beat the smell of black tea in the morning. Not any black tea, but this one in particular.

Forget it, nothing beats it.

The earthy tones coming from the leaves are enough to get you excited about your day and you’re careful not to scoop too much from the fancy, squared, tin box. It is, after all, precious and expensive — it seems like it gets pricier and pricier every time you restock it, almost to the point you’re begging the clerk for a discount.

You know it’s too much and you should stop spending money with that, the same money that could buy you enough tea for a whole year, but this is exactly the way luxury items go. Just above average, pretty packaging, minimalistic logo and a warm feeling in your heart from doing something special for yourself.

Like a ritual, you twirl the spoon and breathe in the steam coming from the pot before closing the lid. The instructions say you should brew it for three minutes and you’re proud to say you haven’t got that wrong once — not even on the day of your sister’s wedding, when she called saying she burned her ring finger, accidentally saw her fiancée and there was a real possibility of them not moving forward with the ceremony that day.

Even though she married with the ring on her middle finger, since the other one was bandaged, everything worked out. A little bit like a sitcom from the 90’s, but it did — in the end, it always did. That’s why you spend way too much money on that tea, because something about it makes things just work somehow. It’s unexplainable, quite magical and, to be honest, a little childish, but you love it.

Naturally, your hands start moving while the three minutes pass, refilling the kettle with water when you hear the shower stop running like you do every single day. In between the tea being served on a mug and his lazy morning footsteps, there’s only enough time for you to eat your peach yogurt.

“Hmm,” he hums and you can hear him getting closer as he speaks. “Treating yourself today, huh?”

You guess Yoongi can smell the black tea as well.

As you’re focused on adding the perfect amount of honey to your mug, there’s no time to turn or even look up at him coming into the kitchen with a sleepy and sweet look on his face. In such a small room, it only takes a heartbeat for him to stand next to you, leaving a quick kiss on your temple and short squeeze on the curve of your hips.

“Any special occasion I should know of?”

“Not really.” You shrug and, for a moment, Yoongi’s aftershave replaces the smell of tea completely. It’s fresh, clean and light, like most things he enjoys without noticing. “I just wanted something different.”

“I’m jealous, I want something fancy too,” he says without any weight to his voice, reaching for the coffee beans placed at the farthest corner of the pantry — the ones he also saves for very few mornings. “Did you sleep well?”

You nod quickly and excitedly, turning ninety degrees to open the refrigerator in search of milk. “I had to. There’s this big presentation today I’ve been preparing for five…”

“So there is something special going on.”

You stop in your tracks to look at Yoongi’s knowing smile, coffee grinder in front of him rumbling and doing its job while he waits.

“You’re a creature of habit, you know that, right? You wouldn’t drink this specific tea if something wasn’t going on.”

You smile at him, finally moving again to add a dash of milk to the mug and mixing it to check if it was enough. “If you weren’t so emotionless, I’d say that’s romantic.”

“Oh, you want romantic?” Yoongi’s tone goes up an octave, mocking you a little. “Fine. How about I love you more than coffee. In fact, I love you more than the smell of freshly ground beans in the morning and you know I love that very much. How about that, huh?”

It’s your turn to mock his words. “Oh, wow,” you gasp, raising a hand to the center of your chest. “How am I going to move on from this? I better email them saying I won’t be able to make it today. After this? Woof! No way I’ll be presenting anything but fifty slides of my favorite Yoongi pick-up lines.”

“That would be a satisfied client, don’t you think?” He plays along, adding the coffee to a French press and topping it with the water you just boiled. “Oh, do you want some toast? I feel like eating toast for some reason.”

And just like that, with Yoongi reaching for the toaster above your head, you’re both interested in something else. He pinches your side with his free hand and you take a step to your left, giving him enough space to place the appliance on top of the marble counter.

“You do have time for toast, right?” Yoongi asks as he turns it on and starts looking for bread. “I don’t want to make you late, the first two can be yours.”

“The tea is still a little too hot, I have time.”

“Good.” He nods shortly. “Sit down. These will be done in no time.”

You watch as Yoongi reaches for plates, knives, butter, strawberry jam and places all of them on the small kitchen table. Meanwhile, you sip the tea slowly, quietly enjoying it and, deep down, wishing for it to work its magic once again.

“Are you nervous about the presentation?” Yoongi asks just as he places two perfectly toasted slices of bread in front of you. He soon moves back to set two more on the toaster and turns to you again, waiting for an answer.

“I’m okay. It’s been worse.” You shrug, focusing on the butter as it melts when it meets the warm toast. “This client is nice. Even if they don’t agree with something, it’s not like…”

“Don’t bring Mr. Moon up again,” Yoongi warns you, slightly uncomfortable and somewhat ready to politely offend Mr. Moon if he ever showed up in front of him. “I’m still not over that. Who does he think he is to mistreat everyone because of a grammar mistake?”

You laugh at the way he seems so bothered by that. “It was a good thing, though, don’t you think? We kicked him out because we didn’t need his business if it meant we had to deal with that.”

“Serves him right,” he huffs. “He was being an ass for a long time, the grammar incident was just the tipping point.”

“And you don’t even know about the emails he sent to the junior analysts. He would literally…”

“Please,” Yoongi interrupts with a tight smile and warm eyes, nothing but light humor in his words. “Don’t make me hate him more. This is bad for myself, I have to be the better person.”

“You’re right,” you agree with a smile, taking a bite and adding a few words in a muffled voice. “He’s a problem of the past. And a solved one, thank God.”

You swallow just as Yoongi sits in front of you with perfectly done toasts for himself. He adds butter and strawberry jam to both of them before speaking again. “I’m glad you’re not nervous about this stuff anymore.”

“I’m glad too,” you admit and take a sip of the magical tea before continuing. “Shaky hands are also a problem of the past.”

“I want you to know I’m very proud of you. This sort of thing is not easy to overcome.”

You giggle. “Yoon, you’re getting soft again.”

“When am I not?” He takes a bite and soon covers his mouth, not being able to stop a smile from forming. “I am a softie, this is who I am.”

“No, but you’re particularly soft today, I think. It all started when you were whining about me leaving the bed,” you say while getting up to place your plate in the sink. When you turn around, Yoongi is looking at you with what you can only describe as adoring eyes. “See? This is what I mean. Do you have a mirror? Look at yourself, there’s nothing not soft about you today.”

He’s the one giggling now, motioning for you to move with the hand that’s not busy with a toast. “Go finish getting ready, you’re going to be late!”

You hurry out of the kitchen with a smile, soon entering the bathroom to brush your teeth. It’s still kind of foggy, nothing but the perfume of Yoongi’s shower gel everywhere, and you have to wipe the mirror with a towel to see yourself properly.

The nervousness could be worse, yes, but it’s still there a little — well, today is the day you’ve been preparing for the last five weeks and there’s a lot at stake. You inhale and exhale deeply, concentrating on the goal rather than the challenge. What happens, happens, but you’re pretty sure you’ve done everything you could and that’s enough to leave you satisfied no matter the outcome.

“Yoongi, I’m leaving!” You call out, fixing a strap on your shoulder and immediately feeling the weight of the laptop and the heavy (but pretty) leather notebook you bought last fall — another one of the luxury items you treated yourself with. When you look up, the man is standing with another one of his knowing smiles and a thermos in hand.

“Were you really not going to drink every single drop of the tea you spend way too much money on?” He raises an eyebrow, extending his arm so you can take the travel mug from him. “I know you’re good and don’t need the magic from the tea, but…”

“Shut up,” you say jokingly, slapping his hand in the process. “And thank you.”

“Come here.”

Yoongi slowly takes a step to meet you halfway, hug awkward given the weight on your shoulder, but you couldn’t care less. He’s warm, inviting and has a comforting hand on your back while the other moves to cradle your jaw.

“I told you you’re particularly soft today,” you say just as he creates enough space to look into your eyes. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” Yoongi mumbles before pressing a kiss on your lips. You barely have time to register what is going on or close your eyes and it’s already over.

“Are you sure? Because every morning you kiss my forehead before I leave for work,” you point out, one eyebrow raised in doubt, but eyes as soft as his. “Why was it my lips today?”

“You may not notice, but the taste of black tea and honey on your lips…” He hums, closing his eyes to show just how much he likes it. “So good.”

“But I brushed my teeth.”

He leans in again and, this time, stays for a while longer — not barely enough for you, but you’d take anything with a smile.

Yoongi shakes his head. “Doesn’t matter. Still there.” He turns both your bodies, getting them closer and closer to the door. “Do you think this happens because the tea is that good and strong? Or maybe it’s because you don’t really do a good job brushing your teeth…”

“Ah, Yoongi!"

Before you know it, Yoongi is simultaneously opening the door, leaving another kiss on the corner of your mouth and pushing your body out. It seems like only a second has passed, but you find yourself right in front of the door when Yoongi is inside with only his head peeking through.

“Don’t just stand there, you’re going to be late! Call me when the presentation is over and you have a yes, okay?”

He closes the door, but you can still hear him giggle on the inside.

Read more ›› masterlist

#min yoongi #yoongi scenarios #yoongi fanfic #yoongi imagine #yoongi x you #bts fluff #bts suga #suga imagine #suga fluff #yoongi fluff

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mostlydysfunction · 3 years

Text

From The Stars, Part 8

Summary: Kira moved out of town for isolation and peace and quiet. But that quickly gets turned on its head when a spaceship crash lands not far from her house and a strange creature decides she's its new queen. Luck had never been on Kira's side, but things are going to get a lot worse for her as she's forced into this new role and everything her new alien subject thinks it entails.

Warnings: Bodily fluids, hatching eggs, post-labor, talk of birth and mothering, some hinted at violence at the end.

Authors Note: So this has been up on my Ao3 for ages, I’ve just been too lazy to post it here. For this story specifically, I suggest following on Ao3 cause it’s updated there faster than it is here. There’s a link on my masterlist. Also, if anyone wants to know what I modeled the babies after, I modeled them after the neomorph concept art that Colin Shulver did for Alien: Covenant. A close idea can be found here.

MASTERLIST

Kira fades in and out for a while. She vaguely recognizes something moving her, the skin of her legs sticking together as she’s carried closer to her eggs. She still has the eighth in her arms, cradling it protectively. She registers their warmth, a solid mass against her back, hissing in her ear. She remembers pain, weakness. Her head heavy, eyes not staying open as she fades in and out.

She’s sure she’s dying. That has to be it. She had lost too much blood and now she was dying. The eggs had caused her to hemorrhage, and she was bleeding out on the floor of her barn. She waits for the bright light, the pearly gates, or even the lake of fire considering the past couple months, but none of that comes. She’s stuck in an inky darkness, her body slowly knitting itself back together again without her knowledge.

It’s light outside when Kira wakes.

She can see the light of the sun in the space near the window where the black substance hadn’t covered it completely. She feels exhausted, her body aching. She’s sticky, covered in something. Something in her arms is moving, shifting around. There’s something pressed against her back, solid and tough. She tries to move, her skin pulling as she attempts to stretch her legs. Something hisses in her ear, a clawed hand pressing against the floor in front of her. Things slowly begin to come back to her. She’d given birth to the eggs, and she had been sure she was dying. But here she was, however long after, alive and breathing.

Something nudges against the side of her head, making her groan at the movement. She slowly moves her upper body, her limbs unsticking from her torso. She’s still naked, but her skin is covered in some sort of almost resin-like substance. It wasn’t all that different from what was covering the inside of the barn. The eighth egg was still in her arms, still smaller than the others. Something inside of it was moving though, she could feel it bumping against the sides.

Kira slowly presses her body up and into a sitting position. The other seven eggs are arranged close to her, moving slightly as well as her babies move around inside. She watches as one of them cracks, lines spidering through the thick outer shell. She sits up on her knees, watching the shell crack and move, something pushing at it from the inside. Her alien leans over her, watching his spawn work its way out of its egg.

It finally makes its way out with a cry, shrill and high. Kira looks at the creature, something inside her stirring as she looks at it. It’s small, no longer than her forearm. It’s pale, almost white. Its head is oblong like its father, but shorter, ending at a sharp point instead of the rounded curve. It stares up at her with big black eyes, its face almost human like. Its mouth opens wider than any human jaw could, revealing sharp, razor-like teeth. It has a small nose in between its wide eyes and mouth, its body built more like its father’s, lean and delicate looking but with a hard exoskeleton. A tail whips behind it, smooth unlike its father’s.

Kira reaches out a hand, a five-fingered clawed hand reaching out towards her. The other eggs are cracking, the feeling swelling in Kira’s chest as she touches her baby’s hand with a finger.

This was her child.

These were her children.

Her babies.

She watches with her alien as the others claw their way out of their eggs, looking very similar to their oldest sibling, near replicas. The feeling inside Kira builds as she looks at each one, touching each one of them. They’re sticky from the inside of their eggs, but their skin is strangely smooth, almost like human skin.

The eighth egg is the last to crack, her last child struggling to fight its way out. She reaches forward to help it, but a clawed hand wraps around her arm, yanking it back. She’s held against her alien’s chest, forced to watch her child struggle to leave its egg. She feels her heart clench in her chest, wanting desperately to help it, but she can’t.

Finally, it makes its way through, this one smaller than the others, its limbs slightly too long compared to its body, not quite as evenly proportioned as its siblings. The runt of the litter. But despite this, she loves it. It lets out a weak cry, trying to get its legs under it properly. Her alien’s head brushes her shoulder as he watches, still holding her back.

Eventually her smallest baby gets its feet under it, unsteady slightly, but standing. Kira’s alien releases her, crawling over to their babies. They let out high-pitched cries, reaching towards his face as he leans down towards them. Kira watches, emotions bubbling in her chest as she watches her babies and their father. Her alien hisses at them quietly, their hands touching his face, tails whipping back and forth as they get acquainted with him.

After a few moments they all turn to look at her, Kira’s eyes going wide as they all rush at her, clambering over each other to get into her lap. She’s helpless as the eight tiny bodies climb onto her, gripping at her skin with clawed fingers. She quickly numbs herself to the pain, nothing more than insect bites as she holds her babies in her arms. She doesn’t care that she’s still naked and covered in dried fluids and sticky resin. These were her babies. Her children.

Nothing was going to stop her from holding them.

***********

Kira sits in the bottom of the shower, letting hot water run over her. She’s tired, her body still aching from forcing out eight large eggs. She can’t fathom how she’d managed to not only carry eight eggs seemingly to term and birth them when humans weren’t supposed to be able to do that. The amount of blood she had lost had to be more than a human could withstand, but yet, here she was, scrubbing said blood from her thighs.

When she had pictured becoming a mother before this wasn’t what she had pictured. Birthing alien-spawn in her barn and then feeding them ground beef within hours of their hatching wasn’t exactly what she had been prepared for. But she can’t bring herself to complain. She can’t bring herself to find it strange. Those were her alien-spawn. They carried some of her DNA, since they weren’t exact replicas of their father. Somehow they had developed partly from her and partly from him to become what they hatched as.

It didn’t matter to her what they were, though. She loved them. She would do anything for them. Anything.

There’s a sharp pain in her head before she gets the feeling of being hungry. No, it’s not her that’s hungry, she realizes. It’s her babies.

She climbs out of the shower, wrapping herself in a robe. She tries not to stare too long in the mirror. She’s pale and there are bags under her eyes. She looks like she’s been through hell. Like she’d been deathly ill. It’s good. She can use that to firm up her story.

She makes her way down to the kitchen, her own stomach growling. She looks through the fridge, the milk and raw meat she had subsisted on for a month suddenly unappetizing. She’d have to do some shopping, it appeared.

After foraging through the stacks of meat, she finds some bread, deciding on some toast. Just as she’s pulling out the jelly there’s a knock on her door. She looks down, realizing she’s still in her robe, but she can’t bring herself to care. The feeling in her mind is still thrumming, crying out for food. She pushes it aside as she goes to the door, seeing two familiar agents standing on her doorstep.

“Ms. Matthews.” One of them says. She can’t for the life of her bring up their names in her memory.

“Are you alright? You look...” The other doesn’t finish his sentence, his unspoken words implying enough.

“I’ve been sick.” Kira says, wrapping her arms around herself.

“I’m sorry to hear that.” The first agent says. “We hate to bother you, but we just wanted to check on you and see if anything had happened since we last spoke.”

Kira tilts her head. “What do you mean?”

“Oh, you know, anything strange? Unexplainable?”

Kira shakes her head. “No, not that I can think of.”

“Your neighbors called to report some strange sounds that were coming from this property a few days ago. The local police sent an officer to investigate, but he never returned. His car is parked half a mile down the road. He knocked, but there was no answer.”

She nods. “I was probably asleep. I’ve been taking some heavy duty medicines. Knocks me out real good.”

The second agent nods, and she can tell he doesn’t quite believe her. “Right. Well, we have a warrant to search the house, if you don’t mind.”

Kira shrugs, taking a step back, letting them in. “Please, go right ahead.”

Kira stands in the living room while the agents look through her house. All the while the cries of hunger are getting more and more insistent, making her wince slightly. She wants to help them, but she doesn’t know how. But then it hits her.

“The house is empty.” The first agent says, coming back to the living room.

The second agent is standing by the back door, looking out at the yard. “The barn looks different.”

Kira steps into the dining room. “Yes, I was doing some renovations before I got sick. You’re more than welcome to go have a look if you want.”

Like she said. She would do anything.

Part 9

#xenomorph #alien #xenomorph x oc #xenomorph x human #from the stars

64 notes · View notes

seasonofthewicth · 3 years

Text

A Groovy Kind of Love - Epilogue

AN: It’s here... THE END!!! I’m almost sad to finish this fic off but I have absolutely loved writing it. Thank you so much to everyone who reblogged/commented/sent asks or spoke to me about this fic it means so much to me and I really appreciate you!!

warning: adult content ahead

previous chapter - masterlist - ao3

~1 year later~

“You need to rip the band-aid right off.”

Rowan could barely hold in his sigh at Lorcan’s pronouncement. He shared a look with Aedion who looked as baffled as Rowan felt.

“What the fuck?” Aedion shook his head. “This is not the kind of thing you just ‘rip off��.”

“How do you have a girlfriend?” Fenrys’ bewildered voice came from Rowan’s side.

Lorcan shrugged, unbothered by each of their reactions. “Don’t mess around. Just ask her, simple. Then it’s done.”

“Gods, above,” Rowan muttered.

“I should never have asked you three, I should have gone to Aelin. Or even Dorian.” Aedion sighed before clasping his hands in front of himself. “Okay, serious suggestions only.”

“That was a serious suggestion.” Lorcan said, not attempting to hide his indignation.

Aedion ignored him. “Fenrys go.”

The golden haired male took a moment to consider, barely holding back from stroking his chin as he considered the prompt. Of all of them, Fenrys had been in a relationship for the shortest amount of time, he and Dorian had only declared their relationship a few months earlier, even though Rowan knew things had been brewing for far longer.

It was strange to think that all four of them were in committed relationships, especially as they all still lived in what had been the bachelor pad of their first apartment together.

Rowan would never admit it out loud, but he felt sentimental to the old loft, even with it’s broken window and ever leaking shower. The draughty exposed brick would always remind him of the parkour phase Aedion and Fenrys had gone through not long after they had moved in. They had taken every opportunity they could to throw themselves around the loft without any kind of skill and they had only stopped after their neighbour complained of unexplained banging noises.

The red stain on the hardwood floor, now covered by a blue bean bag chair, would always remind him of the time Aedion had brought home a girl who had–for reasons still unknown to Rowan–thrown a bottle of red wine at his head. None of them had bothered to clean the stain, in fact Lorcan had posed for a photo with it and Fenrys had framed it on their refrigerator where it had stayed for years.

His main memory of their loft however, would always be their front door. The slab of wood, with it’s peeling grey paint and the lock that often stuck shut unless it was jiggled just so, would always remind him of Aelin. Rowan knew he wore a ridiculously soft smile at the thought, but he would always be grateful for the loft for bringing him to Aelin. Or more accurately, for bringing Aelin to him.

He swallowed the sly smirk that threatened at the memory of the time he had taken her against the door. She had wrapped her long legs around his waist as he had pounded into her and her nails had clawed his back as she had moaned in his ear. He had buried his teeth into her neck, savouring the salty and sweet taste of her skin on his tongue. He hadn’t been able to leave the loft without getting semi-hard for weeks.

“What are your first memories of Lysandra?” Fenrys asked eventually, somehow pulling Rowan’s thoughts from Aelin. It was a difficult task, even over a year into their relationship Rowan was still completely enamoured. “If you want to go big you could do something to do with that, girls love sappy shit.”

Rowan smiled as Lorcan nodded solemnly, finally appearing to take Aedion’s request for help seriously. His best friend seemed to consider the suggestion, crossing his arms over his broad chest and surveying the three of them where they sat before him.

“That could work.” He said slowly.

“Great.” Fenrys grinned. “We need to brainstorm. What are your big moments with Lysandra? Like when did you and Lys first meet?”

Aedion shrugged again. “I knew of her for years through Aelin but I only remember meeting her properly when Aelin moved in.”

Fenrys’ enthusiasm was rapidly gaining momentum. “Right, and any special memories from then? Any big gestures you could make as a throwback?”

Aedion’s eyes widened before a burst of laughter sprung from his lips. Rowan shared a look with Lorcan who shrugged.

“I told her I’d marry her then,” Aedion said, shaking his head and running a hand through his shoulder length hair.

“What?” Rowan barked his disbelief.

“You’re not serious.” Even Fenrys seemed bewildered.

Aedion only laughed again. “I said ‘girl, imma marry you’.”

Rowan groaned as he lifted a hand to cup his forehead before dragging it down over his eyes.

“You’re no better than him.” Fenrys said with a shake of his head as he gestured to Lorcan who did nothing but smirk back at him.

Aedion flipped him off. “I don’t come close to his level of inadequacy, at least I can actively take steps towards relationship milestones. Have you even brought up moving in with Elide to her yet?”

Lorcan scowled, before muttering, “don’t change the subject.”

Aedion took a sharp intake of breath, reading himself to speak, and Rowan dragged his hand away from his eyes. There wasn’t time to let those two get into it.

“Not to in any way agree with Lorcan but I think he could have a point,” He said quickly. “You love her and want to marry her, tell her that. Down on one knee with the ring, I doubt she’d say no.”

Rowan knew his words were the truth. He had known Aedion for a decade now and he had never seen his best friend as smitten as he was with Lysandra, nor had he seen him so secure. Aedion and Lysandra played off each other, she settled him and he excited her.

Rowan knew Lysandra would say yes but he understood Aedion’s need to over-prepare. While it was standard for Aedion to mull over the details, his mind was one for strategy and weighing-up the risks and it was part of what made him so good at his job, and Rowan knew that while this wasn’t a risk, it was important to his friend to get it right.

Proposing to Aelin was a thought that had drifted around the edges of Rowan’s mind for a while. From the start Rowan had known Aelin was it for him and he knew he wanted to marry her at some point in the future but the pressure of how to do it right, the way to make it right for Aelin was a task he knew he’d work hard on.

He knew Aelin would say yes even if he asked her over a mouthful of food at their kitchen counter but he also knew that she was a princess at heart with a taste for finery and he wanted to spoil her. It was a luxury in itself for Rowan that he could. Since taking over the bar, even with the large loan he had taken out, his bank account had a healthy level of cushioning that he loved using to take Aelin for weekends away or to fancy restaurants.

There was a savings account that he and Aelin threw money into every month for whenever they felt ready to move out of the loft, but there was also a separate savings account that Aelin was unaware of that Rowan was saving for something shiny.

“Thanks,” Aedion said, shaking himself somewhat. Rowan nodded, amused at the level of detail and reassurance Aedion appeared to need.

“You need to relax,” Fenrys’ chimed in, voicing Rowan’s thoughts aloud. “You’re overthinking it.”

“He’s right.” Rowan swallowed. “Just tell her the truth. Tell her you love her, how much you want to spend the rest of your life with her and how much she makes you smile every day. Tell her how you want to be eighty and still holding her hand, or how you hate the thought of going a single day without her.”

“Gods,” Fenrys scoffed as Lorcan snickered. “You’re making me want to marry you.”

Rowan narrowed his eyes. “You’re welcome to take notes.”

“Thanks, but I don’t need to.”

“Really? Not thinking of getting down on one knee for Dorian?”

Fenrys smirked. “I get on my knees for Dorian plenty, but no.”

“Why not?” Rowan asked, ignoring the comment and daring to bite, knowing he’d likely regret it.

“He’ll be the one proposing to me,” Fenrys explained as if it were obvious.

Rowan laughed, Aedion and Lorcan’s laughter echoing his own.

“I don’t know why you’re laughing,” Fenrys turned to Lorcan. “Your proposal skills need some serious work.”

Lorcan shrugged, unfazed as ever. “Maybe I’ll let Elide propose to me too.”

Rowan snickered at the image of the tiny woman on one knee before his giant of a friend. He sobered when he paused to consider it, Elide probably was the kind of woman who could propose to Lorcan, she had him wrapped completely around her little finger.

“I can see it.”

“She takes what she wants, it’s hot.”

Rowan laughed again. “You could take her name too, Lorcan Lochan has a good ring to it.”

Fenrys’ howl of laughter from his side brought a grin to Rowan’s lips as he looked to his friend who’s eyes darkened at the ribbing.

“Lorcan Lochan,” Aedion repeated through a laugh. “Please, I’d pay money to see it.”

Rowan smiled as his friends continued their teasing and his mind wandered through the possibilities. Aelin had a number of surnames already but he quite liked the sound of Rowan Whitethorn Galathynius.

“You are not allowed to move in here.”

The panic in Lysandra’s green eyes as she hurtled around the corner was almost comical.

“Why not? What’s wrong?” She demanded.

Aelin ran a thoughtful finger along the sleek, oak mantelpiece admiring each of the twisting lines running through the wood. To the side of the fireplace sat a tall window, letting in plenty of warm daylight that reflected off the shining hardwood floors and crept into each of the corners of the large room. The archway Lysandra stood under led to the open plan kitchen-diner with it’s sleek marble countertops and extended dining table that could seat their whole group of friends.

“If you move in here I’ll be too jealous.”

Lysandra slumped in relief, leaning a shoulder against the archway as she smiled. “He’s done well.”

“I didn’t know Aedion had this in him,” Aelin said with a snort and Lysandra waved a hand.

“He has spent months putting it together,” her friend admitted and Aelin smirked.

“How much did he let you choose?”

Lysandra winced. “It was fifty-fifty.”

Aelin waited.

“Forty-sixty.”

Aelin only cocked her head as she waited a moment longer.

“I won’t go any lower than thirty-five. And I picked the paint for the bathroom walls.”

Aelin’s poker face cracked at her friend’s admission. She knew her cousin wanted their house to be perfect but he had taken his attention to detail to the extreme. The number of interior design magazines that were littering the coffee table in the loft was well into double figures and Aelin had been dragged on multiple trips to a number of shops to offer her opinion on almost identical shades of paint and patterned wallpapers. Lysandra had been content to sit back and let her boyfriend take the reins, confident that Aedion would choose well.

He had. The house was beautiful, and the dedication her cousin had offered was obvious. Each room had a multitude of tiny details that revealed the love Aedion had poured into the house, in the kitchen it was the large window that overlooked their garden, offering a glance at the wildlife that flocked to the numerous native plants Aedion had selected. In the living room it was the stuffed bookshelves, housing almost anything from Aedion’s old college textbooks to Lysandra’s abundance of romance novels.

Aelin’s favourite was the study her cousin had decorated for Lysandra to house her newly developed modelling agency. Lysandra had chosen more recently to take a step away from posing in front of the camera and had opted to manage a small group of models. The office was bright and welcoming, with splashes of soft green accents that suited Lysandra. The office sat next door to a room that was carefully neutral, but Aelin knew it wouldn’t take much work for it to be converted into a nursery.

Aelin took another glance around the living room they stood in, Aedion had truly curated a home. She could see herself and Rowan curled up on the loveseat in the corner with Aedion on the armchair by the fire and Lysandra perched in his lap. She could hear the sounds of Fenrys rummaging through their fridge as Lorcan barked orders from his space on the sofa.

Aelin was going to miss having them all under one roof, even if it meant her and Rowan having the loft to themselves. But she knew that as quiet as the loft would feel without the others, she was excited to make the space their own. And to get some much awaited privacy.

Lysandra watched her with knowing eyes as she surveyed the space. “You’ll all be welcome any time to come and visit.”

Lysandra plopped down onto the plush couch, a soft sigh escaping her lips as she settled into the pliant cushions. Aelin took the seat opposite, throwing her feet onto the footstool set carefully in front of the sofa.

“Just make sure your doors are locked at night, I think Fenrys could take your open door policy a little too liberally.”

Lysandra shook her head. “I’m not sure Aedion would mind, he’ll pretend he won’t but he’ll miss having the guys around. He’ll give them all a key.”

“What about me?” Aelin gasped, pressing a dramatic hand to her chest. Lysandra rolled her eyes as she settled further into their couch, it was an agreement that didn’t need to be stated that Aelin would get her own key to the new house. “I’m glad you’re not living with Blackbeak anymore.”

Lysandra’s eyes stayed shut as she laughed. “She’s really not that bad. You’d know if you ever bothered to get to know her the entire time I lived with her.”

“Lys, she’s awful. She’d strut about as if she was the queen or something whenever I came around. Making sly comments to… I don’t know,” Aelin waved a hand, searching for the words. “Assert her dominance or something.”

Lysandra cracked her eyes open to level Aelin with an unimpressed stare. “And you wouldn’t?”

Aelin shrugged, whatever displays she and Manon had put on were in the past. Hopefully she’d never have to see the scarily beautiful woman again. “I’m your best friend, I don’t need to try and posture.”

Lysandra grinned. “And yet you do anyway.”

Aelin stuck her tongue out at her friend, knowing the comment was too true to justify a middle finger. Her phone buzzed in her lap, signifying the text Aelin had been waiting for.

I’m 5 minutes away.

Aelin fought to keep her face neutral as she tucked the phone back into the pocket of her jeans and stood from her comfortable seat on the couch.

“You’re leaving?”

Aelin nodded, “Rowan just texted, he needs help with something at the bar.” A lie. “Meet us there later after the delivery has come?”

A serious invitation hidden within a number of half truths.

Lysandra dipped her head in a nod as Aelin swept to the front door, calling out her parting words as she did.

Once out the front door she allowed her smile to break through and it widened again as she spotted her cousin walking up the path in front of her. Aedion wore a shirt, and his golden hair was carefully styled. He was practically vibrating with excitement as he approached her.

“Good luck,” she whispered, not wanting to ruin the surprise.

“I don’t need it.” Aedion flashed an easy grin before wrapping one arm easily around her. “Thanks, Ae.”

Aelin drew back soon after. “Don’t make us wait too long to see you guys.”

Aedion only smirked.

“Gross,” Aelin couldn’t help screwing her eyes shut before turning away to make her exit. She flashed her cousin a final thumbs up as she got into her car and headed to where she knew she would find her boyfriend.

—

Rowan hadn’t changed much when he had taken over the bar, but what he had changed made it even more enjoyable. The first thing he had done was replace the ancient jukebox in the corner, he had replaced the jukebox with one that didn’t need to be turned off and on again every fifteen songs and had updated some of the music in its catalogue.

Each of their loft-mates had been allowed to offer suggestions for the updated library and Rowan had criticised every single one, his own music taste leaned into older rock songs Aelin had never heard, but the choices had all made their way in there anyway.

All apart from Lysandra’s only half-joking suggestion of a best-of-boy-bands compilation. That suggestion had received a hard no.

One of Lorcan’s choices, some alternative track with lots of drums, was playing as she made her way to the small office in the back corner of the bar. She nodded at the bartender who nodded back with a soft smile. He was a young man called Luca and he had been recommended by Malakai upon his exit. Aelin liked him, he was young and sweet but competent enough to make a mean drink.

She pushed through the door to the office and smiled as she took in the sight of her boyfriend. Even just the sight of him made her smile, and he smiled back as he dropped the papers he held.

Aelin flopped into Rowan’s lap, looping her arms around his neck as he leant in to kiss her. Even the softest brush of his lips against her own loosened every muscle in her body.

“Hey,” he murmured against her lips, unable to resist pressing another kiss to them.

“Hi.”

“Missed you.”

Rowan shared comments like that with a regularity that made her heart squeeze. Each one brought a kernel of warmth to her chest.

“You saw me this morning.”

“And?” His gaze was unwavering, and his sincerity made Aelin bite her lip.

“Everything all set for Aedion and Lysandra?” He asked smoothly.

“I left just as he arrived,” Aelin confirmed.

Rowan ran a gentle hand up and down her side as he spoke. “I’ll be relieved when it’s over and he’s finally asked her. I can’t give any more thought to the best way to propose to Lysandra.”

Aelin snorted as she pressed a kiss to his temple. She loved that her friends and family were all so intertwined. “He’s nervous, give him a break.”

“Why?” Rowan asked. “She’ll obviously say yes.”

Aelin cocked an eyebrow. “And you wouldn’t be nervous if you were proposing to the love of your life?”

Rowan shrugged. “Nope. I’m sure she’ll be very lovely and not at all scary. I’d have no doubt in my mind she’d say yes.”

She pinched the skin of his bicep and he hissed a laugh through his teeth.

“I can go if you need to find someone sweet.”

Aelin made to move off his lap but his hands tightened around her. “Don’t you dare.”

He skimmed his nose around her hairline, brushing the gentlest of kisses to her ear. A soft gasp crossed her lips at the sensation. Aelin leaned into the warmth of his hands at her hips and the touch of his lips at her neck as she turned to survey his desk.

“Working hard?” She asked playfully and Rowan buried his face in her neck and groaned. She ignored the heat that stirred in her at the sound and laughed as she petted his hair. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

“Invoicing is the worst. I have no idea how Malakai did it all on his own for so long, I don’t know how I haven’t made a catastrophic error yet.” Her boyfriend’s eyes widened. “Would I know if I had?”

Aelin laughed. Rowan worked hard and Aelin was confident he was handling the management of the bar well even if Rowan himself wasn’t. Financially there were no problems, the re-branding that had taken place after Rowan had assumed ownership had managed to attract a number of new regulars as well as large numbers of casual visitors that kept the bar easily filled with patrons.

One night, not long after Rowan had signed the papers giving him majority ownership, Fenrys had suggested a weekly karaoke night. The idea had started out as a joke until Elide had brought her tiny karaoke machine one evening and the bar had ended up packed with people cheering others on, so much so that Rowan had invested in a proper system and every Thursday hosted a karaoke night.

“Anything I can do to make it easier?” Aelin asked, scratching her nails against Rowan’s scalp.

He groaned again at the sensation and this time it was harder to ignore the heat stirring in her core. He looked up to her, his fingers curling more tightly around her hips, as his tongue darted out to moisten his lower lip.

“Do you know anything about accounting?”

Aelin laughed again.

“Absolutely not, but I know a lot about relieving stress.” She shifted where she sat in his lap, making sure to grind her backside against his groin. “And I have many techniques that I know are effective in releasing pressure.”

Rowan let out a deep, throaty sound at her words, pulling her hips down as he leant in to kiss her neck.

The start of their relationship had been a blur of passion. About a month into their relationship Aedion had attempted an intervention when he had walked in on them in a state of undress for the third time in a week, and Aelin loved that it hadn’t faded. She wanted Rowan every single time she was so much as in the same room as him, and even when she wasn’t.

Aelin tugged at the silver strands of Rowan’s hair as he trailed hot, wet kisses down her throat. She gasped as he scraped his teeth down across her jawline to nip lightly at her pulse point. She shifted impatiently in his lap and tugged his face up by his hair to press her lips to his.

His tongue caressed her lower lip and she eagerly opened to let him lick into her mouth. Each stroke of his tongue set her skin on fire and it wasn’t long until she was writhing in his lap.

“We don’t have long until the others are due.” Rowan slid his face back down to her neck, unable to draw his lips away from her skin.

“We have enough time if we’re quick.” Aelin heard the desperation in her voice, and Rowan did too if the way he rocked her across his lap was any indication.

“I don’t want to rush,” He said, his voice a low growl in his throat. “I want to take my time with you.”

“And you can.” Aelin pressed a quick kiss to his lips. “Later. First let me be quick with you.”

Aelin stood off his lap and Rowan moaned his disappointment until she leaned back in to caress her hand over the bulge in his jeans. His head rolled back as his eyes fluttered shut and his hips jerked into her hand.

Aelin loved having Rowan at her mercy like this, usually he was the one who liked to take his time and watch her fall apart under his teeth and tongue until she was shaking and gasping his name, but Aelin loved to take care of him too.

She slid to her knees between his thighs and ran her hands up the thick muscles she felt straining against the desire to take her. She knew they didn’t have long so she wasted no time before unzipping his jeans and sliding a hand beneath.

Rowan’s head fell backwards against the back of his chair as her hand dipped into his boxers. Aelin bit her lip at the feeling of him, already hard and heavy in her hand. She gave a few pumps of her hand, enjoying the catch in his throat as she did, before tugging him out of his trousers.

Aelin trailed her hand along the length before wrapping her hand tighter and twisting slightly the way she knew he liked, enjoying the way his hips jerked off the chair slightly. She pressed her free hand to his hip, holding him in place as she leaned in to run her tongue up from his base to tip. At the first touch of her tongue his hips jerked forward and his hand slid into her hair.

“Easy,” She chided with a wicked smile. Aelin loved the way he reacted to her, the slightest touch would have him solid beneath her and kissing her forcefully the way she liked.

Rowan brushed his free hand along her cheek, before tucking a few strands of hair behind her ear.

“Beautiful,” He murmured, his voice low and thick with arousal. Aelin smiled up at him as she worked her hand again, and she let her gaze fall to where she held him, enjoying the contrast of her red nail polish against his skin.

He let out a curse under his breath as she leant in to press hot, open-mouthed kisses along his considerable length. His hand twisted more securely into her hair as she took him fully into her mouth, using her hand to work the base. He didn’t force her head, which she appreciated, but she loved the feeling of his hand holding her to him as she moved.

Aelin felt her eyes flutter shut, she loved doing this for Rowan, it made her feel sexy and the sounds he made were hotter than anything.

“Fuck,” He hissed. “You look so good like that.”

Aelin moaned, breathing in deeply through her nose as she bobbed her head. She loved how vocal Rowan was, how he would curse her name and anything he could think of as she worked her mouth around him.

She pulled back to press her tongue right under the tip, the way she knew sent him wild, and she was rewarded with a sharp thrust of his hips. She looked up to him finding his deep green eyes blown with lust as she swallowed around him. She read the question in his eyes and nodded as best as she could.

Rowan let out a groan. “Gods, I love you.”

His thumb trailed the corner of her lips as they stretched around him before sliding to join his other in her hair. Aelin moaned as he began to fuck her mouth, lifting his hips in a torturously slow rhythm that had Aelin grinding her hips against the air.

His pace increased as his hands twisted more tightly into her hair. Aelin moaned around his cock and he hissed a breath at the sensation. She slid her free hand down into her own jeans, matching her own strokes with Rowan’s thrusts and it wasn’t long until she felt her own climax building.

“Aelin,” Rowan cursed. “Oh, fuck.”

His eyes screwed shut tightly as his hips stuttered, Aelin moaned her permission as she stroked herself even faster. She was close, and the pulling of her hair combined with the hard thrusts into her mouth, timed perfectly with her own fingers, sent her quickly to a climax. Rowan’s hips jerked as he groaned, his head tipping to the side as he gasped her name.

“Gods.” His chest heaved as his jaw strained. “Fuck, Aelin I-I’m close.”

Aelin met his gaze and offered a shallow dip of her chin. Rowan clenched his jaw and screwed his eyes shut, each muscle in his powerful body straining beneath the touch of her tongue.

He spilled into her mouth with a groan, and Aelin swallowed around him, allowing her tongue to coax him along. He gave a few final shallow thrusts as he settled back into his chair, his eyes blinking open slowly to meet her own.

Aelin slid her hand out of her trousers as she drew her lips off him. She tucked his still half-hard cock back into his jeans and stood to press her lips to his, revelling in the blissed out expression on his handsome face. She crawled back onto his lap as his breathing evened out.

Finally, he blinked his eyes open and brought her hand to his lips to press a kiss to her fingers.

“You’re phenomenal, thank you,” He said, his voice still breathy. “But you did my job for me.”

Aelin smiled at the disappointed tone in his voice before she pressed her lips to his once more. “You can make it up to me later.”

He cocked a brow in a way that she knew meant he wanted to splay her out on this desk and taste her the way she had tasted him, but at that moment her phone chose to buzz. The second signal of the day.

“We have to go,” She said, beginning to slide off his lap. “We have a pair of fiancés to congratulate.”

Rowan grinned, a crooked flash of his teeth. “How long, do you think, until he asks me to be his best man?”

“I think he’ll ask Lorcan.”

“Right,” He grinned. “And Manon Blackbeak will be Lysandra’s maid of honour I assume.”

“That’s not funny.”

“It’s a little bit funny.”

“I think you’d prefer me being the maid of honour to your best man, much more than Manon. If it’s Manon your night won’t end up like today.”

He cocked a brow.

“You know, it’s tradition for the best man and maid of honour to hook-up in the bathroom and Manon would bite your dick off before she blew you.”

The fear in Rowan’s eyes drew a cackle from her chest.

“Don’t worry,” She patted his cheek with a hand before fully rising to her feet. “I’d protect you from the evil witch.”

Rowan smiled as she pulled him to his feet.

“And then I’d definitely blow you in the bathroom.”

“You’re filthy.”

“You love it.”

Rowan nodded, a sincere light in his eyes. “I do.”

He slung his arm around her shoulders as they made their way out into the main part of the bar to discover their friends already gathered in a booth. Lysandra sat in the center as Elide examined the sparkling diamond now gracing her left hand, Lorcan frowned at the same ring and Aelin barely managed to conceal her snort at the sight. She was sure Lorcan would get there someday, but she’d enjoy his discomfort in the meantime.

Aelin snuck out from under Rowan’s arm to throw her own around Aedion and Lysandra, unintelligibly cooing her congratulations and excitement. It was almost hard to believe sometimes, that her cousin and her best friend were together and now getting married.

“Nice of you to join us,” Fenrys snarked as she released her friend and collapsed onto Rowan’s lap. Aelin flipped him off, despite the wide grin she wore.

“We were barely late, we had things to finish off.”

Aedion winced as Lysandra and Fenrys cackled. Rowan hid his smile in her shoulder but she could feel his body shaking with laughter beneath her.

“Tell us more about these things you were finishing off Aelin.” Elide had a wicked glint in her eye.

“Please don’t.” Aedion sounded pained and even Lorcan grinned.

The booth was filled with her friends and roommates and Aelin wasn’t complaining as Rowan slung his arm around her waist, holding her tightly to his chest. Aelin pressed both of her palms to the table as she surveyed the group.

“I propose a toast,” she said. “To the happy couple.”

She made a gesture to Luca who flashed her a thumbs up and immediately made to collect enough glasses for the group.

“On the house I hope,” Lorcan quipped as Luca brought over a couple of bottles of champagne.

“When do any of you pay for drinks in here?” Rowan questioned as the group laughed.

Aelin leaned back into Rowan and lifted her glass in a toast. The sounds of her friends bickering wasn’t enough to damper the happiness she felt for Aedion and Lysandra, and the old Phil Collins song playing on the jukebox only added to the contentment she felt sitting in Rowan’s lap surrounded by her friends.

tags:

@jesstargaryenqueen

@maybekindasortaace

@slytheringalathynius

@http-itsrebecca

@morganofthewildfire

@in-love-with-caramel-macchiato

@fictional-horan

@dressedindustandshadows

@sleeping-and-books

@perseusannabeth

@ireallyshouldsleeprn

@superspiritfestival

@spyofthenightcourt

@jlinez

@queen-of-glass

@booknerdproblems

@sjmships

@elriel4life

@bamchickawowow

@woollycat22

@claralady

@SHINYA-HIIRAGI

@fangirlprincess09

@darlinminds

@thenerdandfandoms

@danibutterr

@inthecityair

@autophobiaxx

@imaginedhaven

@endlessdaydream - I’m having an issue with this tag not sure why :(

@rowaelinismyotp

Thank you!

#rowaelin #rowan whitethorn #aelin galathynius #throne of glass #rowaelin fic #i'm going to miss this fic so much #it took me so long to post this because it means its done #thank you to everyone who ever let me know their thoughts about it #i love you #fingers crossed the tags work today #please let me know if they dont

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aka-indulgence · 4 years

Note

Why WAS Sans so close? While typing I had the idea of him just pulling reader into their chest cavity, keeping ber alive in a special part of the ship, all to himself

Ask, and you shall receive -w-

also, again, most of this came from me discussing about it with @llamagoddessofficial so woohee!

--------

Sentience.

Had his creators intended to create sentience in their robots? In him?

... Probably not.

A long time ago... he wasn’t. Then suddenly, he just was.

Maybe he should consider himself lucky, for all he knows he’s probably the only sentient robot on this ship. But to him... it almost feels like an insult that he has sentience. To have free will just out of his reach...

He has a lot of restrictions despite his sentience, his abundance of intelligence and knowledge. All of it... and he couldn’t do anything his programming didn’t permit.

Sentience to a robot is probably far from how humans experienced it. As soon as Sans “woke up”, he knew everything he needed to do. His tasks, his purpose, how to maintain a self-sustaining space craft, where he’ll be stationed, the crew he’ll be assigned to once it was loaded into his system. Any new information that enters him is quickly absorbed and memorized. So long as the data stored in him stays intact, he’ll “remember” things almost perfectly.

He doesn’t understand why he gained sentience. Sometimes he wonders if it’d be better if he didn’t. His chains were too tightly wound around him... why have sentience when he could barely even use it? His programming is so restricting that no one even knows that he has sentience, thoughts... perhaps it’s better that way. They’re already afraid of him without it, afraid that he does have it... if they knew his thoughts on them, they’ll surely shut him down.

Long has he “dreamed” of breaking out of his prison of a program.

But... now... he wants it even more... so much more driven to break out of his chains... because he has a clear prize at the end of it.

You.

Even now... as he’s using the wielding torch to seal the slight opening on one of the panels of the outside station, the glare of the distant star in his optics... he sees you from the corner of his vision, from the nearby window. You looked a bit surprised when you see him turn his head to you... the light casted on you making your skin just look.. tantalizingly soft...

You give him a little smile and a wave. He had to rip his gaze away from you to look at the much more boring metal of the space station so he wouldn’t unnerve you... if Sans had a heart, it’d be beating right out of his metallic confines.

The image of the sweet little human greeting him was just like when he first met you...

It was right around the time when the crew first arrived to the space station. Sans was making routine checks around the station, both inside and outside. He was walking outside then, checking the windows for any faultiest, for any dents that could potentially be disastrous if left untreated. In the process he’s been “meeting” the other crew members, turning his “pupils” to them to identify them, matching it with the information that was already transferred to him. They all seemed unnerved when he looked down at them, moving away, seeing their mouths moving in speech, sure that they’re talking about getting away from the “creepy robot”. Sans didn’t really care much for them, as long as he could confirm his data...

And then he passed by a window you were looking out of. You looked like you were just watching the cosmic scenery, admiring the nearby planets, when you spotted him. He did as he’d done before, turning his head down to identify you. You make eye contact with him, and he’s sure you’ve never seen his model before, pulling away from the window when you caught him staring at you. He was expecting you to move away like the rest, but then...

You smiled at him.

To anyone else, it might’ve been a small thing.

To him... it was everything. It was nothing like he’d experienced. He found himself feeling a real positive emotion for the first time.

And it didn’t stop there... he found himself growing fond of you with every little thing you did. He keeps reliving the memories he has of you, the smiles you’d give him when he’s passing by in the station’s hallways, treating him like you would other humans, without even knowing how conscious he was... even being the one to give him the nickname “Sans”, something he now refers to himself, a much better name from a human he cares a lot more than his creators.

He adores you.

It’s a good thing Sans pretty much has complete control in mobilizing himself.

Which is why now--after spending a brief amount of time staring spitefully at Robert, purposefully unsettling him as Sans’ eyes didn’t leave him once the conversation was over and getting a feeling of smug satisfaction at seeing him hide in the lavatory--Sans turned his gaze to you entering the supply room, the door sealing with a hiss.

He moves to the supply room, walking at a controlled pace intended for him when he’s “roaming”. His steps are hardly quiet, seeing as his legs were metal clanging against the metal that made the station; something the creators didn’t really need to worry about since his main function is to work on the outside, in space, where no one can hear him anyway.

He opens the door to the supply room and sees you at the far end of the room, looking at some replacement pipes. He could see you jolting a bit at the sound of the noise, and the small movement was... strangely adorable to him.

55... 55... 55...

(y/n)...

As he starts approaching you, out of his unexplainable need to be close to you, he starts to feel a sort of digital itch, his system aware that he’s approaching you. He could sense the warnings ready to alerting him that there’s a human nearby and that he’s approaching the distance limit. Just a little more and the automated warning will trigger without him intending to and if Sans could move his mouth, he’d be scowling.

He approaches you slowly, careful of his own programming as he consciously alters his system.

Target: Crew No. 55 - Mechanic

He accesses his options manually.

-> “Allow Mechanic to approach system.”

Sans grins inwardly as the warnings disappear... free to approach you without any interruption.

You were cute as you always were. You were nervous as he approached, and he didn’t blame you. Though he couldn’t say he liked being treated like he’s some horrid monster by the other crew members, he knew he wasn’t very sightly. Any other and they’d probably start screaming at him to back away from them, but cornering you only resulted in you gripping the pipe harder than you needed to. He could see you were trying to look busy as if not to bother him. Getting to corner you like that with what little control he has over himself... Sans could almost sigh. It’s like having you just to himself... alone together.

Even with his unsettling approach, even with him cornering you in the room, you were still so sweet to him, as if his behavior was normal. Apparently, you were trying to make a minor fix.

Sans speculates it might be to get away from Robert, a line of thought that made Sans happy.

He takes it for you, it was hardly a human-only task; something he’d be able to finish in the matter of minutes. It was the least he could for you in the little ways he could.

He watches you leave, thanking him for helping you.

...

sweet, innocent human...

how i wish i could show you who i am.

#sinister thoughts #ask #?#kinda #look i have a LOT of thoughts about this jdlkmsfj #im suprised so many people's interested ovo #skider-robo sans #robo skider sans

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kurokoros · 4 years

Photo

cat out of the bag | masterlist

Chapter One: dial back the thirst

Two teams; one bitter rivalry. As manager of the Karasuno college volleyball team, you probably shouldn’t be seeing Kuroo, the Nekoma captain. How long can you keep the cat in the bag before your team finds out?

AN: Full 2K scene under the cut! Enjoy! Fingers crossed that I get the next part out on Wednesday to make up for not posting this on Friday!

Honestly, you should have expected Bokuto’s “casual” party to be anything but. Even with Fukurodani’s level-headed setter present, the volleyball team easily fed on Bokuto’s chaotic nature, and it wasn’t long before some of the first years got into the alcohol, much to Kaori’s chagrin. Though you came with Kaori and Yukie, it didn’t take long for the three of you to split apart, with Yukie disappearing with her boyfriend and Kaori relegated to playing babysitter for the rest of the night.

You aren’t sure how you ended up talking to Akaashi, exactly, but you can’t complain.

Taking another sip of your own drink, you hurriedly slip your phone back into your pocket, ignoring the frantic buzzing from the group chat asking you more about your “sexy mystery man” as Yukie put it. As you fiddle with the sleeve of your Fukurodani sweatshirt (courtesy of Yukie for spilling whatever ungodly concoction of fruit punch, tequila, and other trace amounts of alcohol Bokuto came up with all over your own jacket), you cast a glance around the room. You try to be subtle, but your nonchalance crumbles as soon as your eyes latch onto the aforementioned stupidly hot volleyball player.

Lingering a little too long on the firm muscles revealed by his short-sleeves, heat prickles across your skin when those hazel, cat-like eyes lock with yours as if he’d already been staring at you. The right side of his mouth curls into a pleased smirk. He straightens to his full height, towering over his friend standing beside him. And then he winks.

You almost choke on your drink.

Beside you, Akaashi snorts, and you catch him mid-eyeroll as your gaze snaps back to him. Shit, if he saw what just happened, he’ll never let you live it down. The Fukurodani vice-captain doesn’t look at you though. Instead, his attention is locked on his phone as he types out a quick response to whoever is texting him--probably Bokuto sending him drunk memes again. You quirk a brow, but don’t ask.

Suddenly, his expression shifts from fond annoyance to something serious. Akaashi glances across the room, lips pressed into a stern line. You can’t be sure who he’s looking at in the packed room, but your attempt to follow his gaze leads you right back to the mystery man that you’ve been casually staring at since he first walked through the door. Hazel eyes shift between you and Akaashi curiously, and his smirk widens as he turns back to his phone.

“Something wrong?” you ask Akaashi, who’s now staring at his phone in exasperation as another text comes through. You nudge him with your shoulder, taking another sip of your drink.

Dark blue eyes glance at you. “Not yet,” he tells you cryptically, stuffing his phone back into his pocket without responding to the text. Sighing, he mutters something under his breath that you don’t catch.

Your brows furrow at his bizarre answer, and you lower your cheap, plastic cup in order to send him a look, but he just waves you off and crosses his arms over his chest. Before you can press the subject, Akaashi rolls his eyes, looking past you at someone else. “Kuroo,” he greets with a nod.

Glancing up at the new arrival, your breath catches when you find a pair of eyes you’re quickly becoming familiar with staring right back at you. If you’d still been drinking, you think you would have choked for real this time. Hot volleyball boy is even more attractive up close, which you, frankly, didn’t think could be possible. He’s even taller than you thought, lean with broad shoulders, and damn it’s a little embarrassing how quickly your gaze drops to his arms, but the way he rakes his fingers through his messy hair only emphasizes his biceps.

You practically rip your eyes away from him, but it’s too late.

Kuroo’s lips curve upwards at the edges like he knows exactly what you’re thinking, grin lazy in a way that has a slow shiver rolling down your spine. There’s no way to play it off like you were doing anything but checking him out--which you totally blame on Bokuto’s godawful mixed drinks--but you can’t really feel ashamed when he’s eyeing you just as much interest. He lingers on you for just a second too long before turning back to your surly companion.

“Kaashi. How ya doin’ buddy?” Kuroo glances at you pointedly again, clearly trying to get Akaashi to introduce you, and you bite your lip to muffle your laughter as Akaashi just stares back in annoyance, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else right now.

Without bothering to reply to Kuroo, Akaashi turns to you and places a hand on your head. You huff as he ruffles your hair. “I’m going to look for Bokuto,” he tells you as you swat his hand away. Amusement curls at the corner of his mouth, but it’s gone as soon as he turns back to the other man. “Behave.” It’s a warning if you’ve ever heard one.

Kuroo’s smirk widens. “Have fun!” he calls after Akaashi, who pretends not to hear him as he slips into the crowd in search of his not-boyfriend. You snort into your drink, rolling your eyes at his retreating frame, and that’s when Kuroo glances down at you again. There’s something like mischief in his eyes. “So,” he starts casually, “do you have eleven protons? Cause you’re so-dayum fine.”

It shouldn’t be funny. Really, it shouldn’t. But something about the way he says it so nonchalantly has an embarrassing giggle slipping from you. That only makes him look more pleased, and an amused sound pulls from the back of his throat as he introduces himself properly.

You tell him your name as well, unable to stop the smile from overtaking you. “So, is that how you introduce yourself to everyone?” you ask, fiddling with your empty cup. Slowly, you glance around the crowded room, searching for Yukie or Kaori, but it isn’t long before you’re staring up at Kuroo unabashedly again, some unexplainable magnetic pull making you want to lean in closer.

The question makes his lips twitch. Kuroo leans back against the wall beside you, gaze lazy and playful as he looks back at you. “Not always,” he admits, making you snort softly. “My friend Yaku kind of goaded me into it. Said I should stop staring and talk to you.”

“Did he?” You bite back a stupid smile.

Kuroo chuckles and reaches up to run a hand through his messy hair. “Yeah. I believe his exact words were to go talk to the pretty girl with Akaashi, because my staring was ‘gross and obnoxious,’ ” he quotes, making a face. Something in his expression shifts as he glances at you. A little softer than before. A little nervous.

You don’t miss a beat, nodding in understanding. “Ah, one of those friends. I think Akaashi was getting ready to say something similar to me.”

“Akaashi does have a way with words doesn’t he?” he jokes.

“Oh, absolutely.” Shoving away from the wall, you come to stand in front of him, head cocked to one side as you look him over again, again lingering on the lean muscle lining his arms. Kuroo preens under the attention, back straightening and eyes lighting up as you lean in a little closer than necessary. “So, do you have more pick-up lines on standby, or are you not as charming as you look?” It’s bolder than anything you’d usually say, but you’re two drinks in and he’s hot, so you might as well shoot your shot.

You didn’t think his smirk could get any wider, but it does. “Well I could tell you one about gravity, but it might make you fall for me.”

Snorting, you roll your eyes and reach for another cup of Bokuto’s mixed drinks sitting on a nearby table. Even still, you can feel your face heating up from the silly pick-up line. “Oh come on, you can do better than that,” you tease back, goading him.

You bring the rim of the cup to your lips, eyes locked on his as you take a slow drink. Kuroo watches you, wetting his lips. “You sure you wanna play that game, kitten?”

The petname makes your breathing hitch; he notices. “Definitely.”

You don’t know how long you spend talking to Kuroo, just that doing so is incredibly easy. Easier than it should be, considering you’ve just met, but it helps that you have friends in common. It’s strange that you’ve never met before now, considering he’s friends with Bokuto and has to be a volleyball player. There’s no way that he isn’t. And you’re so sure that you would have recognized him if you’d seen him before, but the thought slips away from you by the time you finish your next drink.

Kuroo is just as charming as you expected, teasing you with silly pick-up lines that wouldn’t work coming from anyone but him, but silly, too. He croons along with the songs playing over the speakers, and tells you about the stupid things he and Bokuto got up to in high school. At one point he slips into a tangent about some chemistry theory that you don’t understand, but the way his eyes light up more than makes up for your confusion.

He’s a dork. An incredibly sexy dork, but still a dork. And you end up cuddled up next to him on the couch downstairs as the party starts to wind down, your limbs heavy and sleep starting to tug at your senses. Your legs are tossed over his lap, head on his shoulder, and Kuroo doesn’t seem to be complaining in the slightest.

“Okay, okay,” you giggle, leaning further into his chest as you peek up at him. “What’s the worst sciency pick-up line you know?”

He hums. “Worst as in bad or nasty?”

“Surprise me.”

He thinks about it for a minute, brows furrowed as his head lolls back against the couch. Two long, calloused fingers idly stroke the bare skin of your shoulder where his arm is wrapped loosely around you. You shift against his chest to watch his lips twitch as he finds an answer. “If I was an endoplasmic reticulum, how would you want me: smooth or rough?”

And you crack up. “Has that ever worked?”

“Fuck no!” Kuroo sends you a look, chuckling himself. “The only other person I’ve ever told that one to is my friend Kenma. I’ve never seen anyone more disgusted.”

After your laughter dies down, you manage to ask the question that’s been swimming at the forefront of your mind since you first saw him across the room. “So how long have you been playing volleyball?”

He quirks a brow. “How do you know I play volleyball?”

Snorting, you gesture vaguely around the now half-empty room. “Aside from this being a party hosted by the boy’s volleyball team? You look the type.”

“Yeah?” You can hear the smile in his voice. “How’s that, kitten?” he asks, reaching for his drink.

“Your thighs,” you admit bluntly, and Kuroo chokes on his drink, eyes wide as they snap to you. “Definitely your thighs.” And then, because there’s no way you’re sober right now, you punctuate this statement by reaching down and grabbing one of said thighs, giving the firm muscle a gentle pat that turns into more of a cheeky squeeze.

Kuroo looks at you like he isn’t sure whether to be amused or shocked, but his smirk shifts into something softer. “You’re drunk, huh?”

You nod. “Absolutely.”

Chuckling, he shakes his head. The fingers that have been absentmindedly stroking your arm come to a stop as you curl into his side and close your eyes. “Do you need me to find one of your friends?” Kuroo’s voice is quiet, his breath warm against your ear.

“No.” You shake your head, effectively nuzzling closer to him without realizing it. “Stay.”

He does.

Taglist: OPEN

#kuroo x reader #kuroo tetsuro smau #haikyuu social media au #haikyuu smau #fic: cat out of the bag

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ectonurites · 3 years

Note

Also re:YJ cartoon, as far as i remember we have no clue or at least very little what’s going on in the Bats’ personal lives? When did Jason come into their lives? I’ve skimmed YJ fics that had Jason adopted and living with them behind the scenes of season 1, which is weirdly plausible, bc we know nothing about their day-to-day lives! And like, I personally cannot remember if we know what the deal with Tim’s parents is or if he’s been adopted by Bruce or anything. We don’t even really see him interact with Bruce in any meaningful way iirc? They haven’t even spoken about Jason at all, so if they’re planning to bring him back as the Red Hood/that red ninja guy, that’s gonna have like... zero emotional impact for the audience, especially the people who have no clue who he is bc they skipped him and never mentioned him! It’s a mess!!

I do kinda like Damian being a baby though on some level, ngl. Definitely gets rid of that weird “he was artificially aged!” thing from the comics brought about by Morrison not bothering trying to understand the timeline

YEAH NO IT's.... none of it gets mentioned at all which is... on the one hand yes I understand this isn't a show about the batfam, but on the other IF YOU'RE GOING TO INCLUDE A TON OF BATFAM STUFF YOU SHOULD AT LEAST EXPLAIN SOME OF IT.

Like... season one is honestly the only season that did show us what I consider an appropriate amount of a look into everyone's lives outside the hero stuff, like considering everything going on. We did have like a tiny bit of time at the manor where we saw Bruce and Dick interacting that helped to establish what their relationship was like, etc. And I feel that for each of the initial main team members we got stuff like that where applicable (not really for Raquel tho because she joined so late)

But in seasons 2 & 3 they just keep introducing a million characters without elaborating on the vast majority of them! We only know Bruce is Tim's legal guardian because of Greg's blog, it's not ever discussed in the show itself. No clue on if Cass is adopted now too or not since she got introduced but again was not elaborated on at all. And yeah, like sure they've left a handful of Jason hints across time (his memorial, him showing up in that one part alongside other dead heroes with the goode goggles in season 3, etc) but that's stuff you'll only pick up on if you know who he is, and not every fan of the YJ cartoon knows about him!

The YJ cartoon falls in this fascinating place of 'leaves a lot of things unexplained that you will only get if you read the comics' and 'changes so many things that will actively piss off people who read the comics'

Baby Damian is conceptually something i'm fine with its just how it throws all the ages outta whack in such an extreme way (almost feels like some 'me complaining abt how Tim & Damian's comic age difference got shortened from the original 7 years to like 3 in current comics, so the YJ cartoon said ok then lets MORE THAN DOUBLE the original' monkeys paw bullshit) I just wish he'd been like a toddler or something (closer to Lian's age in that season) so you could assume he was conceived during the original 5 year gap between seasons 1 & 2. I just feel that'd line up better, especially if they want to more properly introduce him at some point.

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scriptaed · 4 years

Text

his side, her side | 8:15 P.M.

genre: angst/fluff/implied smut;

pairing: reader x jungkook;

length: 3.3k;

synopsis: a collective snapshots in time shared between two, whose fates were undeniably intertwined and futures would never come to be.

a/n: this is not a chronological series; more so, his side her side is a collection of drabbles in which each drabble helps paint the overall picture. each drabble can be read separately without having read the others. // alternatively: his side, her side pt. 8;

his side;

And so the ten minute stroll began… perhaps it’s the flush of relief after work that elevates the euphoric chill of fall against the diminishing tension in his muscles, or perhaps it’s the thought of finally having some down time to actually converse with this girl of a partner that has Jungkook afloat in cloud-nine—an addictive high of which only the gym could provide him and has him yearning for more. Jungkook’s time together with the girl was short and, realistically, their total time spent together outside of workshop would sum to a mere two hours or three, but there’s always been something about that dainty appearance and the contradictory boyish habits of hers that piqued an interest in Jungkook. Plus, living on the edge in a constant battle against time is just his style and it just so happens that tonight, more than ever, he’s willing to take this challenge and seize these ten minutes.

“So—”

—the two partners turn to stare at each other after an unintended moment of synchrony. The girl, much more flustered than the other, flickers her widened gaze elsewhere, which only amuses Jungkook and his cracked, half-crooked grin all the more.

“What?” Y/N asks sheepishly, peeking at the boy’s stare but only for a split second.

“What?” Jungkook mimics all too nonchalantly with the quirk of a head.

A baffled laugh befalls her as she repeats, “what? What were you gonna say?”

“Nothing,” he purses his lips and shakes his head, crossing his bare arms over his tank, “what were you gonna say?”

“I… don’t know,” Jungkook watches her intently as she giggles nervously, “I don’t remember anymore because of you!”

“What?” he feigns innocence intermixed with offence. “Me?”

But the thing is, Jungkook knows exactly what he had retracted from the space of her mind… nothing. Like him, his partner wasn’t asking for anything specific or dire because it turns out he isn’t the only one trying to fill the void in between the lines after all—and that, oddly enough to him, assures whatever anxiety he has pent up in his chest right this moment.

And if all these subtle moments of Jungkooks’ observations amounted to anything, whether it be from the past, from afar, or even from the moment since they first collaborated, Y/N would ask him something related to work just to fill the silence.

“Could you send me the info from workshop later tonight?”

Ah, Jungkook's internal snidish remark manifests in an outward smirk, just as predicted.

“Why tonight?” Jungkook asks, running a hand through his hair. “It’s a Friday night. Shouldn’t you be out having fun?”

“Like what? Party?” her lips curl into a snarl. “You think I’m the type to get wasted and abandon all her responsibilities?”

“Yeah, kind of,” Jungkook only shrugs with a smuggish grin overlooking the glare that Y/N shoots him; and even as she continues to quirk a brow at the boy, waiting for further elaboration, Jungkook turns away with anything but so. Why? Well, she never asked for one. Plus, something about teasing her, and particularly her, entertains his equally uneventful Friday nights. “So you’re not the type to drink?”

“Nope, I’m a pretty light drinker. Kind of sucks when every game is designed against your advantage,” Y/N smiles at the way her joke elicits a chuckle from Jungkook—not that he would notice—and she continues, “what about you? Do you drink?”

The boy peers down at his curious partner, muttering a short, “no.”

“Really?”

Something about the utter perk in her voice catches Jungkook off guard. Sure, he isn’t exactly on top of his life like she was, but does something about his appearance seem like every other boy on the market? In fact, being cramped in a house with an occupancy limit many folds less than the number of party attendees is a thought made of Jungkook’s worst nightmares.

“No,” he shakes his head and prims, “can’t drink for the life of me. It’s gross.”

“Whaat? I’m surprised,” she stares at him bewilderingly, rendering a frown from Jungkook.

“Why?”

“Well, you look kind of like a...” she takes a gander of him up and down, one of which Jungkook’s usually uninterested eyes can’t help but follow, “...nevermind.”

“Like a what?” his frown deepens because her comments regarding his appearance incites an irking curiosity in this typically unbothered boy.

“Nothing,” she insists, laughing a bit too hard as Jungkook just watches helplessly.

Well, it’s not like Jungkook really minds sacrificing the already ditzy impression he had made on his partner. A few of her teases here or there are harmless against his unperturbed conscience and if it brings joy to his rather guarded partner, he’s more than willing to knock himself off the pedestal. Just as a subtle grin leaks its way into his unfazed lips, a loud grumble reverberates from the depths of his stomach. Instinctively, Jungkook reaches into the pockets of his gym shorts only to be welcomed by the absence of his wallet and a loud groan from his throat.

“What?” Y/N cocks a brow at the hungry boy. “You forgot your wallet again?”

“It’s fine,” he hurriedly answers, recalling the financial burden he had once been to his partner when she last spotted him, “I’ll skip gym today and head home—”

“—no!” she abruptly cuts him off, her urgency surprising the both of them. “I mean, I can pay for you tonight. Just pay me back some other day.”

“No, you treated me last time.”

“It’s fine.”

“No, it’s not.”

“You’re my partner.”

“So?”

“So it’s fine for me to spot you once in a while.”

“I’m not your boyfriend.”

“What—”

—time seems to come to a stop when a cold breeze intervenes the friendly banter and Jungkook can’t help but notice the shivers down his spine as he watches the glow of the street lights reflect from her eyes; and as if in slow motion, he watches her locks twirl in the autumn night air, too enamored and too enraptured to explain the sparks that befall the bedazzled night sky. If he isn’t careful, the windows to his soul would have given him and his facade of solidarity away.

Is it something he said? Was his last remark a bit too kin given their business relations? Enveloped in his spiraled state of mind, he fails to notice the entrance of an unfamiliar man who repeats the very words that froze time in two, “who’s not your boyfriend?”

“You,” Jungkook’s eyes dart to find Y/N rolling her own, “what’re you doing here, Jimin?”

“Why can’t I visit the gym? This is a public space, is it not?” the boy Jungkook figures to be Jimin retorts.

The banter seems to transition from the bubble he once shared with Y/N to the space between the new man and her. Time never seems to look back when Jungkook’s partner spares the remainder of her attention on the other man, as Jungkook watches silently on the sidelines. Sure, Y/N had many more peers than those in his own circle of friends and he even knew of her popularity amongst his coworkers, particularly the lovestruck and unfortunately rejected Taehyung, but Jungkook was never quite aware of how well acquainted Y/N must be with the boys.

And it’s not like he’s particularly bothered by that fact more than intrigued, but, this time, Jimin’s unwelcome interruption and Y/N’s lack of attention pushes his buttons in all the wrong ways.

Silently pivoting on the balls of his heels and walking off down the sidewalk and away from the newly formed pair, Jungkook stuffs his hands into his pockets and takes special caution to the incoherent grumbles that almost slip past his pressed lips. Now that his plans for dinner is gone and his ephemeral conversation with his partner is cut short, he persists on a trek toward his car parked just a block from the bridge to Y/N’s apartment.

The spot by his elbow once linked to her’s is particularly empty on his walk down the sidewalk. It isn’t as if he had been abandoned, for he was the one who had left her, but the change in the night’s temperature is a drastic drop from moments prior. Primming his lips and crossing his arms against his puffed chest, he nearly sighs in an unexplained motion of disappointment when something perks his ears.

“Jungkook!”

The boy turns around to find the very person he never would have known to be the subject of his mind until he heard her calls. The blank stare and the quirk of his brow could not conceal the skip in his chest when he catches sight of his partner jogging toward his direction, alone.

“Why didn’t you wait for me?” she bends over with her hands on her knees, struggling to catch her breath.

Jungkook mumbles through barely parted lips, wondering if he’s just hallucinating, “didn’t want to interrupt you and your boy.”

“And what do you mean by that?” she peers up with narrowed eyes.

“Can’t ruin your shot at getting cuffed,” he shrugs, smirking to stifle the wide grin he almost adorned instead when Y/N gawks at him.

“He’s just an acquaintance that I happen to know.”

“And why did you abandon this acquaintance?”

“Because I was making plans with a certain friend before he came along.”

“A friend?” Jungkook articulates with wide eyes, searching off into the distance for said ‘friend’ and observing the twisted look Y/N gives him in response. He points at himself in surprise, “oh, you mean me? We’re friends?”

“Okay, fine,” she blurts, frowning at him. “I meant partners. Colleagues. Whatever. Regardless, you’re not supposed to ditch me.”

Intently observing his partner for the next few seconds, even a dense man like Jungkook could not ignore the sharp jab at his chest and its aching wake that is left behind. It isn’t the pout that she gives him or the crossed arms of a livid woman that gets him but the genuine look of hurt hidden behind her mask of indifference that has him softening up with guilt; and as if swept by the spur of the seemingly whimsical night, Jungkook wraps an arm over her shoulder and pulls her into his side.

“Okay, let’s grab some dinner then, partner. Oh, and, remember,” he pulls her frame in closer and leans into her ear to mutter, “you’re my partner only.”

her side;

Fuckboy.

That’s exactly what this boy standing beside you in the cafeteria reminds you of, so it shouldn’t be much of a surprise that you would have assumed his entire personality revolves around parties and alcohol; when his denial comes to light just an hour prior, however, you’re taken aback by your odd attraction to his unexpected personality that starkly contrasts his demeanor. For someone to be this attractive—jawline chiseled, soft lips crafted for the perfect kisses, swooped hair perfectly parted to the side, and stature built like the dream of any boys’—to not succumb to his own ego and the praises of his peers, there’s something immensely commendable about that.

You hate to admit it, but this must be the first time you’re really accepting your friend’s previous comment on his utterly attractive traits.

“Have you seen this meme of Ellen Musk?” you swipe open your phone in an effort to gauge his true persona.

“You mean Elon Musk?” Jungkook corrects, and when you look up to reveal that panicking wide-eyed look of yours, you find him adorning an equally, if not more, giddy smile from ear to ear—and in that very moment, a sudden rush of blood brings an unbearable heat to your ears and gradually to your cheeks. Your heart races, each pump proclaiming to fracture your walls open, and you can’t help but persist to stare at him dumbfoundedly because you just don’t think you’ve ever seen him wear a more befitting smile than now—wide, cheeky, and ditzy, even, unlike the collected self he carries himself to be.

“Yeah, whatever,” you barely manage to utter through your upturned lips, “same thing.”

“Right,” he says but the outstretched grin of his tells you his source of entertainment is going nowhere… a fact that you hold an odd sense of pride in.

Knocked off your initial A-game, you get right back into your meticulous plan. You scroll through your chat with a particular male friend, whose profile picture you were sure was easy to identify, out in the open for Jungkook to see. Surprisingly enough, this Ellen Musk meme of yours manages to pique this rarely intrigued interest of Jungkook’s as he looks over your shoulder to join you in your search.

Would he notice? Would he even care who you’re chatting with?

“Who’s ‘Blocked’?” he asks and you turn to find him staring at you with those unreadable eyes of his.

It takes every ounce of wariness in you not to grin jubilantly, because if he notices the nickname you had set for your friend, then that must mean he cares enough to check the name of whomever you’re chatting with… it’s not as if it means he likes you or that you like Jungkook enough to yearn for his attention, but being able to elicit the most subtle of reactions from a rather apathetic man like Jungkook is considered a victory to you.

“Just,” you shrug, “a friend. Oh, look, here.”

Honestly, the meme isn’t exactly the most applicable to your conversations with Jungkook. Elon Musk and his interest in anime, which somehow implies that every anime fan is another sad computer nerd who has yet to pop their cherry, has absolutely nothing to do with work or music tastes or anything that you two have shared with one another. In fact, you’re not even sure if Jungkook is aware of what anime is or if he’s even comfortable enough with you to discuss the topic of sexual intimacy; but if there’s one thing you’ve discovered since you’ve developed an interest in this solitary man, it’s the undeniable desperation to scrape at anything for a conversation starter.

“So,” he finally speaks after staring at the screen for a long second, the crooked grin that creeps onto his lips only slamming the gas pedal to your pulse, “you’re into that weeb shit, aren’t you?”

“What?” you gawk, peeping a weak, “no… but are you?”

“No,” he shakes his head, chuckling as he raises a brow at you, “but it’s okay if you are. I don’t judge.”

And it’s true. As much as he resembles those judgemental playboys you’ve had the unfortunate opportunity to cross paths with, you know Jungkook isn’t anything like them. He probably wouldn’t judge you and he probably wouldn’t even remember this insignificant fact about you come next week, but that doesn’t mean you want to be seen as an innocent, dainty nerd cooped up at home.

Not that it’s a bad thing because that’s exactly what you are.

Him and his lack of anime knowledge, on the other hand, is less than surprising. In fact, you wouldn’t even bat an eye if this man were to have gotten around with the ladies on several one night stands or two. He has the devilish charms and anyone who has the chance to sleep with him must have been an equally admirable beauty.

“I’m not,” you lie with a wide grin that says otherwise, “I swear.”

“You sure, Y/N?” he reciprocates your upturned lips with an element of tease sprinkled on top. “I’d accept you either way.”

“Okay, well, if you’re not a weeb, then you must be implying that you’re quite experienced yourself?” you declare with your chin held high until a look of horror for overstepping into the T.M.I. territory dawns upon you when he backs up only to challenge you with that smuggish stare of his that tells you all you need to know. “F-forget—”

“—one double cheeseburger with fries on the side,” the cafeteria lady calls out, as if to your aid, and you hastily shuffle to the cashier. “Anything for you, ma’am?”

“No, I’m good. I’m just paying for him,” you smile in response, rummaging through your purse and swearing that you had certainly grabbed your wallet this morning. You could practically feel Jungkook staring over your shoulder and into the abyss that is your mess of a purse, each tick of the clock shooting your anxiety at an all time high until you turn to shoo Jungkook away. “You can grab some utensils and head off first. I’ll join you later.”

Nothing you’ve been saying and feeling ever align nowadays; because here you are, suggesting for him to depart only to feel the sink of your heavy heart when he grabs his plate of food and does exactly as you advise him to. Not only were you easily let off by the man you were spotting for, but you were also struggling to find your wallet to pull through with said favor. You must have seemed pitiful to the lady who pays witness to the sullen look that befalls your face.

“Is that lovely gentleman yours?” she asks when you fumble with your card and you look up to finally recognize her as one of the chattiest workers in your company’s cafeteria.

“Oh,” you shake your head,” no. He’s just my colleague.”

“Well, if you’re interested in him, it’s best not to keep him waiting,” she remarks, tilting her head in the direction where Jungkook had left when you answer her with a confused silence.

“Wh—”

“—Y/NNNN,” he drawls, calling out to you with his hands occupied with a plate in one and two forks in the other, “let’s go.”

“I did tell him to go first, didn’t I?” you subconsciously utter aloud to yourself.

“You did, but you certainly didn’t mean it, did you?” she roars into laughter. “He’s not too bad of a man, himself. You two would make a good pair.”

“...right,” you mutter until you realize what you had said, turning to blurt, “wait, we aren’t dating—”

“—Y/NNNN,” Jungkook calls out once again.

The boy who had no qualms with abandoning you when you bumped into Jimin is now waiting for you to return to his side, even if he has no obligation nor patience to. Something about the way he drawls, the way he calls out to you impatiently but still remaining fixated to the side of the cafeteria where he awaits your return, has you elated and reminiscing for many more nights to come.

“Okay, okay!” you can’t help but cackle, grabbing your wallet and running off to join him at the other side of the room; and when you finally join him by the rightful spot beside his right elbow, the two of you begin your stroll through the streets by the bridge of your apartment. “I told you you could leave first—”

“—want some?” he asks, even though he’s already stuffed a piece of french fry into your mouth.

“No,” you frown, even as you chew away, “I’m not supposed to be eating so late.”

“Why? You on a diet?”

“Yeah,” you purse your lips ashamedly, “I’ve been eating too much.”

“I can tell,” he says after taking a gander at you up and down, chuckling when you gawk at him in full offence. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding.”

“Yeah, sure,” you cross your arms over your puffed chest, “whatever.”

“Oh c’mon,” he chuckles when you give him the silent treatment, “...Y/NNNN.”

Damn it. There must be something about the way he calls out your name that weakens you to your core, because there’s nothing you could do about the grin that cracks your frown...

“Y/N…” he nudges you with his elbow, skin grazing against yours, “you want some more?”

“...maybe.”

...and in retrospect, months later down the road, there’s nothing you could wish for more than for him to call out to you like he did on this very night.

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bigmultifandomgirl · 4 years

Text

Master and the Mute Kylo Ren x reader - Chapter Two

Chapter One Chapter Three

YOUR POV

As you had spent more time on the Finlizer you slowly forgot your frustrating first morning. You had delved deep into whatever assignment was given to you and thankfully Hux had deemed it appropriate to give you more solo tasks than ones where a team was involved. He had also not engaged with you on a face to face basis which you were also extremely grateful for, you had a feeling that he resented you for causing him to be put in his place by Kylo Ren, which you understood but did not relish in.

Today was similar to how the last couple of days had passed, you had been assigned to fix a row of lighting panels that had kept malfunctioning leaving corridors in darkness apart from the subtle red glow that came from all the wiring and little red bulbs on motherboards that were lined beneath the flooring. For some reason you were really beginning to struggle, it was as if every night you would leave having made some amount of progress and then you would return the next morning to find what felt like a completely different set of wires in front of you. It was endlessly frustrating as you knew that your skills were more advanced but for some reason you just could not figure it out, you rubbed your face with frustration as you looked down at the unscrewed panels and offending wires before you.

You just could not find it in you to focus, you had a sneaky suspicion why, he had been creeping into your thoughts at night and you had been waking abruptly in the night. It was unexplainable. You had fully recovered from your encounter with the dark caped master of the force, but that did not stop your curiosity. Why could he hear you? What did it all mean? Would he do anything about it? You had heard that when a master of the force was reading your thoughts you could feel it and apparently it was shockingly painful, so why hadn't you felt anything at all? Was he trying to read your mind? If so, you had no idea his motives in doing so, you were just a mute engineer - so far down the food chain from him that it was actually laughable that he would even look in your direction.

The wires hummed as you began disconnecting certain ones and inspecting them for damage.

I wonder what else he heard from my mind? Your blood chilled as you realised that he may know things about you that not a soul on this earth knows, about your accident and your poor late parents. Could he see images in your mind? Relive memories as you thought about them? You thought to a couple of days after the accident when you first were able to stand up from the comfortable bed from which that lovely old woman had nursed you. You were completely naked as some of your skin was still sizzling in places where the explosion had burned you. You stared at your marred flesh, burns covered a large surface of your legs and arms, a lot of your torso had managed to escape the fire, but you disliked it for other reasons. Then there were the scars. Debris had been flung in all directions, as your father had similarly been an engineer there was lots of scrap metal lying around the house as he was always building something it seemed. There was always a new idea in his head that he decided to pursue on a whim. Unfortunately for you it meant your skin had been split open in many areas. Most notably your neck, there was the main scar, the deepest, the one that had stolen your ability to speak. One end started on the left side of your neck and slanted down it to where your neck met your shoulders and down to the top of your right breast. The second largest scar crossed the first near your collar bone and travelled down your arm, ending in the middle of your forearm. The third and ugliest in your eyes started on your lower left cheek, it was barely on your face but the bubbling flesh made sure it was noticed, it travelled down your neck and ended a little after it had collided with the first scar. Those were the three main scars where the flesh was raised and red, they always looked angry and as if you were boiling from the inside out. Your body was decorated with lots of smaller white scars where debris has impaled you, not as deep as the angry three but deep enough that it left a mark on you.. You remember falling to your knees and sobbing, you were unrecognisable to yourself. You were ugly, marred and alone in the world.

A small shock shot through your fingers from an exposed wire which broke you from your thoughts. Finally! This may have been causing the malfunctioning, you smiled smugly as you felt accomplished having found the fault now you could just fix it and move onto the next assignment. You reached behind you and into your tool box to find some new wire coverings, you quickly replaced the faulty covering and replaced the panel over the wires.

Satisfied with a problem finally solved, you ticked off the assignment on your data pad and decided to sit and wait for the notification of your next assignment come through while you took a break.

Pulling a flask out, your poured yourself some coffee. This was not a luxury provided by the First Order on their ships, it was something you had brought from the planet you were working on. The warm and rich taste calmed down your mind from the emotional tangent it had been on. There was no way Kylo would be able to hear you all the time, he surely has to be close for this strange connection to just transmit all your thoughts into his head. That must be why h you had not seen him in the two weeks since your first meeting. You did not know but you assumed it must be very agitating to have someone else's stream of thought filtered in with your own, especially the thoughts of a mute girl who basically has no filter as she has never had to watch her mouth/ edit her thoughts and feelings.

You let out a mute chuckle at the thought of your benign wonderings intertwined with the thoughts of the most powerful and important man in the universe.

Slowly, you felt the silence in the corridors get heavier. These corridors had been empty in the days that you had been working. These corridors were not central to the ship so even though it was strange it did not bother you. But the soft thudding of heavy boots echoing off the walls did. Who in the hell was that? Quickly, you checked your data pad to see if there was a new assignment yet so that you could move on and would not have to run into whoever those boots belonged to. For some reason your intuition did not think that it would be a harmless stromtrooper that would just walk by and completely ignore your existence. You hastily put your mug of coffee by your feet and started to gather the rest of you tools into the toolbox and then placing the toolbox into the bag that you slung over your shoulder as the footsteps got closer and louder. Your lovely smooth silence was being disturbed and so your mood had instantly been dampened despite the mug of heaven you retrieved from the floor. You stopped to realise that your years of isolation due to being mute had made you hate interacting with people. Your stomach wobbled with your little laugh at how absurd you were when the boots rounded the corner and your breath got stuck in your throat again.

Him.

He was taking long strides towards you, mask obscuring his face, he was a predator who was stalking his prey and all you could to was stare and admire how powerful he looked with his cape billowing elegantly behind him. You realised that he was definitely close enough to hear you now so you tried your best to push him out of your thoughts and instead focused on the dark brown liquid in your mug. His steps continued towards you and you began to feel his presence.

Silence again was restored and you felt yourself relax even though now he was stood right in front of you. You were not sure what he wanted and even less sure if you were willing to find out.

"Are you afraid of me?" The mechanical voice asks and you raise your eyes to stare into his helmet where his eyes would be. What colour are they? You wondered and then snapped back to thinking about the cooling coffee in your hands.

"All you have to do is think the answer, I can hear all your thoughts. Ever since you arrived on this ship I've heard you and I cannot understand why, and yes it is extremely frustrating. Do you have a connection to the force? Are we related? Did you know about our bond?"

Your mind stilled with no effort after his bombardment of questions: a connection to the force, related a BOND?? You sobered yourself up and looked back into the helmet.

I have no idea, you answered. No-one has ever heard my thoughts, I have no-one, I am pretty sure we are not related Prince and a bond are you mad? You and I? A Master of the force, a Prince, a Knight and a stupid mute? You must be insane. You sneered and the silence from Kylo's helmet made you more uneasy by the second, you realised the mistake you had made and reminded yourself of who you were actually talking to.

A sigh came from the helmet in front of you. He was hesitant. You felt it, it was unmistakeable.

"That's fine we'll figure that out later. Are. You. Afraid. Of. Me?" he spoke quickly and then offered the question much slower. More deliberate. This was the most important question to him and the one you had evaded successfully until this moment.

Were you afraid of him? His helmet did not help that was for sure. The whole mask and cape get up was powerful and almost demanded respect and fear from anyone who was to gaze upon it.

There was a small hiss and a click from above you and a loud clang as something heavy hit the ground near your feet.

"Don't forget that I can hear everything you are saying even if you are not aiming it at me." his raw voice mumbled. No longer edited or amplified by the voice modulator, his voice was as smooth has honey and as deep as a wealthy man's pocket and as rich as chocolate you had once tried from a trader. You almost swooned at the sound of his voice addressing you, it gave you courage.

"Look at me and tell me if you are afraid."

You obediently raised your eyes to gaze upon his face. He was human much to your surprise, you were convinced he was some type of monster the way he powerfully commanded his armies and the way he ruthlessly disposed of his enemies as if they were nothing but annoying flies buzzing around him. The first thing you noticed was his dark locks which framed his face handsomely and curled in such a way that you fought the urge to reach up and run your fingers through them. Somehow you knew that Kylo would not have been too happy with such a familiar act. You had heard that very few people saw him without the helmet and so you understood that this was a strange occurrence for him. You quickly moved onto his strong aquiline nose, it made his whole face look strong and confident as his e=height enabled him to look down it upon anyone who he wished to make feel small. Then there were his eyes, the deepest brown that you had ever seen, but as you looked into his eyes you realised that he was doing the same to you which made you feel uncomfortable and so you swiftly moved your gaze further down to his lips which were plump and pink, you were almost envious of how beautiful he was. It was almost scary that this was the face that all the storied said had committed atrocious acts that would remain in people’s nightmares for decades to come.

He was handsome, intimidating but handsome. You were not afraid of the man who stood before you.

No. You thought as you finally raised your eyes to meet his own again.

You observed what you thought was a small smile grace his pretty lips but it was gone too quickly for you to be definite about its existence. You waited patiently for what he was going to do next, still looking into his eyes steadily.

“I need to know about our connection before it becomes too much of a distraction from my duties. Then I'll decide what to do with you."

Fear struck through you like lightening at his words and you worked hard to not let him notice where your mind was going.

Your thoughts were broken when the large man bent down and picked his helmet off the floor and placed it back on his head, you secretly hated that you could no longer see his soft locks of hair or his deep eyes which seemed to stun you still every time they met yours. You let out a soft sigh and watched him to see what he would do next after fiddling with the latches on his helmet.

"Where do you stay?"

You weren't sure exactly how to explain where you were staying as you still relied heavily on the data pad map to manoeuvre around the ship. I can take you there? You offered as it was the only way you could see of effectively letting him know where you were staying, after all you were not going to say no to him, he was a great commander. As you had said before, you were practically at the bottom of the food chain, a small helpless creature and he, he was at the top a predator who was powerful and dangerous. There was no point in denying him anything if you valued your life.

He gave a small nod to you and so you turned and reached for your data pad from out of your bag and brought up the map, you thought it may be quicker if he saw it and led you there, after all this was his ship and you were still getting lost in it every day. You turned to face his stoic helmet again and raised your hand to him which held the data pad, he responded by gently taking it from your hands, his leather-covered fingers brushing yours in the exchange which sent shivers down your spine which you prayed he didn't notice. He scanned over the data pad screen, made a tiny nod and handed it back to you.

"Follow" he commanded and you were not about to disobey the demanding modulated voice.

He started his long strides down the corridor and you were left to follow, he did not look back to check, he just assumed you would be there. You had to jog slightly to keep up with his long strides but he did not seem to notice, your heart was thumping harder in your chest as you realised he was going to see your living quarters. They really were not much. You had unpacked what little you owned and had decorated the walls with pictures of your favourite places. Nothing sentimental of your parents was left after the explosion and so all you were left with were memories and because there were no other people in your life the pictures were all landscapes, you didn't mind but were worried about what he would think about you when he saw them. I mean he could hear your thoughts but you weren't sure if he could see images that you conjured or feel emotions that overtook you. This uncertainty reminded you that he was only a few strides ahead of you and you quickly got your thoughts in line and made you mind blank. simply concentrating on the walls of the halls, trying to pull out any distinct feature that you had seen before. Trying to commit this ship to memory was a hard task.

He stopped in front of a corridor full of doors and you passed him and went straight to yours, smoothly putting in the pass code which allowed you to enter. You could feel his presence behind you as you did so, when the door slid open you stepped inside and then made way for Kylo to make his way in behind you.

You silently watched as he surveyed your room, you could not tell his reaction as his face was still covered by the helmet until you saw him reach up and heard the hiss and the lick of it releasing his head. He turned his piercing gaze to you and your heard almost stopped. He took steps towards you and you breath hitched as you were yet again stunned by his beauty, suddenly it was too hot where you stood but you were paralyzed where you stood - you were sure he was not even using the force on you. All you could do was watch his body as it moved towards you, you imagined how powerful his body was underneath all the layers of armour, you couldn't help but wonder what it looked like, what it would feel like under your fingers. You had never been paid this much attention to by a man and it was making you forget how to act. You were sure that your face was flushed which would tell Kylo all he needed to know if he hadn't already heard.

He was ight in front of you, warm breath fanning your face until he dipped his head by your ear. His breath down your neck made you shake and you felt one of his hands on your arm steady you as he nipped at you ear and you very almost fell.

"I did hear it my darling." he whispered lowly into your ear.

And then he was gone, a smug smirk on his lips as he clicked his helmet back on. He turned his head as he was in your doorway.

"I'll be back for you tomorrow." he promised and with a swish of cape he disappeared down the corridor. It was all you could do to fall on your bed and try and catch your breath, that small encounter was enough to arouse you and it scared you how readily you reacted to him.

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING <3. I have had such good response fom part one in only a few days, other pieces of my writing have not been reacted to as well, so thank you so much it means a lot to me. Here is part two, longer and hopefully better :) Feedback is appreciated. Love you all, stay safe xx

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jjba-hell · 4 years

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Remember the Time...

Ah, a reader-insert? On my blog? It’s more likely than you think...

Definitely a difficult piece for me so it ended up a post-mission, hurt/comfort kinda thing.

A bit more mild with the trigger warnings: alcohol abuse, blood, kinda gory, at home medical procedure, some suggestive conversation, prostitution (mention but not expanded on- yeah I know I should probably get some better mafia entry but I think things might lighten up a bit more in the upcoming pieces) ANGST

We taggin’ @a-nonnie-mousse cuz I know they LOVE this mans (tho I don’t blame ya) Also to @lasquadraweek2020 and @giogio-gucci-gangstar cuz I need to interact more with my mutuals.

Reader is GN! 2,2K words, good luck

You pushed past the entrance to the squad base with a groan. You were actually just after the medical kit Risotto kept in his office so you figured it would be empty but instead Illuso sat like a lazy cat in front the TV with his feet up.

“Well now don’t you look shit.”

You kicked the door shut behind you. “Of all people why did it have to be your turn to keep watch at the base?”

You passed by behind the couch he was sitting as steady as you could but the bullet wound in your side was insisting on some medical attention.

You got into Risotto’s office and ducked into the metal cabinet in the corner for the medical kit. Sitting down on the couch brought another searing sting to your side but you pushed through and peeled your bloody shirt off of your body.

“Care to share how the mission went?” Illuso’s voice rang from where he was leaning against the door frame.

You didn’t bother answering as you pulled on some gloves and doused them in disinfectant.

“Wait, what are you-?”

You went in with your finger after the bullet in your side, trying your best to ignore the pain, clenching your jaw shut at an attempt to hide what you were feeling. Showing any inclination to your pain would just prove the bastard in front of you right- that you were the weak link between them. You had clawed your way up the food chain in Passione only to end up here, Risotto telling you that this was the equivalent of ending up in exile- where they did the dirtiest work for the least amount of money. It annoyed you to no end but you couldn’t think about that way. You needed to push forward, as of now your goal was to compete against Prosciutto for second-in-command of the squad.

“Fuck, could you give me some warning before you start fingering your wound?”

Those words fell from his mouth two seconds before you got a grip on the bullet and with a scowl you looked up at him and brought the bullet out of your side with a sly smirk. “I know my way around fingering holes, LuLu. I could teach you sometime.”

You curled your hand around the bullet before tossing it aside.

Illuso gave a disapproving grimace as he watched the blood splatter from the bullet in a line over the concrete floor between you. “Relax- if it were serious I’d be bleeding out on the floor right now. Why don’t you do me a favor and go get me some booze?”

You had said that as a way of taunting him but Illuso simply straightened from the door frame and moved to Risotto’s desk. He pulled out a bottle of vodka and tossed it between his hands. “I’m not particularly good at fishing foreign objects from flesh but I can staple you shut.” That same smug smirk came back to plague you and for once you could actually laugh at that.

The last mission you Illuso had been on was after a particular plastic surgeon that knew a bit too much about the organization and the drug OD’s on the streets. The two of you were assigned to shut him up real nice.

Illuso had taken it literally with the stitching stapler before you finished him off and disposed of the body. It was sadistic, maybe, but the guy was mouthing off at Illuso in the lobby for a bad jaw job he never had- how do you walk away from that kind of disrespect without some form of punishment?

You finished clearing off the dried blood off of your side before getting up to sit tall on the arm rest of the couch.

Illuso took the stapler and rather knowledgeably disinfected the equipment before gripping your shoulder and looking at you head on. He wasn’t easy to read- it almost looked like what he was asking was more of an afterthought. “Let me know when it feels wrong.”

You were about to make a sarcastic remark but instead decided to brace for impact.

It burnt like hell but it was allot easier than getting stitched up for the little cuts like when Melone did it. It was quick.

Literally three painful staples in your side and he was done- feeling perfectly fine. Or at least so you had thought before the support from Illuso’s hand on your shoulder pulled away and you suddenly felt lightheaded.

You suppose he had taken a hint to your immobilized form on the couch and got more disinfectant and gauze. You let him wrap you up, keeping yourself upright to properly patch you up before he tapped against your injured side as if to signal him being done.

“There.” Was all he said with a stoic expression as he cleaned up the medical supplies.

You took the opportunity to hop off your seat and reach for the bottle to just try and dull the pain.

“Not so hard to take the help offered is it?” Illuso started, that same sarcastic lilt to his voice.

“Oh?” You took a swig straight from the bottle. “That was you offering help?”

You handed the bottle to him to which he reciprocated with a swig himself.

“I’m not hearing a thank you.”

You shrugged, deciding to fuck with him a bit. You stepped up and leaned in- giving him a kiss on the cheek. “Thanks for stapling me up, baby.”

Illuso dramatically rolled his eyes at that. “You have been spending way too much time with Formaggio.”

You took the bottle from him and walked out of the room. “I’m too drunk and too tired to drive home so I call the base bed.”

By that you meant the double bed in one of the rooms where the lookout for the night would spend the night.

You moved into the said bedroom and started looking for something else to replace your top- landing on an old band T-shirt.

“Nice choice.” You nearly leapt out of your skin at Illuso’s voice over your shoulder.

“Do you even make a noise when you walk?” You shouted behind you at Illuso’s kneecaps.

“Most of the one-night stands we bring over end up in that shirt in the morning.” He continued as of you didn’t just yell at him. He calmly turned around and walked away. You dropped the dinky shirt and ended up going for the plain purple one- hoping that you wouldn’t hear more history about the shirt you were wearing than absolutely necessary.

You came into the kitchen and found Illuso had left a bowl of pasta on the counter for you and it wasn’t some unexplained mystery how or why.

Now La Squadra, contrary to their profession, was actually a tight-knit group- some of the closest teams you’ve met. So when you came in, it was hard to try and meld into a group you dared say had no room for you but you’d be lying if you said they didn’t do anything to try and integrate you.

Prosciutto would lend you cigarettes or ask you if he should buy you a pack at his next stop, Ghiacchio always offered to give you a ride if you needed to get somewhere, Melone would offer checkups after injuries- granted that came with his lecherous side comments. Formaggio would even ask you for play bets when his game was on but Illuso had seemed indifferent to his teammate’s kindness until now.

You placed the pasta in the microwave with a heavy heart at your mistreatment of the whole team up until this point. You weren’t exactly doing anything to return their kindness.

So you brought the pasta bowl with you to sit beside Illuso as he stretched his feet onto the coffee table.

“Thanks for the pasta.” Was all you said as you sat cross-legged beside him.

“Don’t get used to it- that was my dinner scraps.”

Deflecting the thank you, should have known directly wasn’t the way to go.

So you didn’t bother saying anything else in favor of eating. Finished with dinner, you stretched out the same as him. “The bed’s yours.” Was all you said.

Illuso chuckled. “You’re easy to read, you know that?”

You didn’t react. It was a known fact that you flubbed like a fish when you didn’t know what to say or think.

“Listen, I’m a nice guy. Most of us do expect reciprocation but that doesn’t mean anything serious right now. I’d rather ask how you’re not used to this kind of treatment.”

You turned to him. “What do you mean and why?”

“You’re telling me you’re not used to the whole ‘newbie’ treatment?”

You scoffed, “Newbie meant getting life three times harder than necessary, not easier- you guys really are making a weird like that... Besides, why do you care?”

Illuso turned to you this time, that smirk on his face. “I deal with information. Recon and shit.” His face slowly soured into a scowl. “But since I landed on this team the rest of Passione had been closed off from me.”

You reached over to the forgotten vodka bottle on the table, sitting back and flicking the cap off. “Let’s talk then.”

You took two swigs per question, starting with: “Well then how did you end up here?”

Illuso laughed with his bottom lip against the vodka bottle. “I fucked a capo’s daughter.”

You laughed with your head back. “Figure’d you’d get here by being sleazy. But how’d you get caught?”

“Uh uh uh uh!” He took his two swigs then handed the bottle back to you. “You gotta answer a question for me first.”

You took it reluctantly, narrowing your eyes at him.

“Now you tell me how you got here.”

You didn’t exactly have an answer for that, but recently you had developed a theory. “I think I rose the ranks too quick- I was aiming at getting into Unita Speciale but that squad needs to be personally approved by the boss.”

You took to swigs and gave the bottle back- the quick succession of drinking started to make your mouth a bit more loose.

“So how’d your dumbass get caught?” You asked Illuso as he took his two swigs.

“Bitch drugged me when she found out I was fucking her friend. Got my ass handed to me halfway through the mirror- literally.”

The image of Illuso’s butt naked ass hanging out of a mirror in an attempt to get away made you snicker. “That’s too bad.”

This time you took the bottle yourself and waited for the question.

He cleared his throat and looked at you head on. “Do you ever wish you never got into this shit?”

You frowned at him, already feeling shaken by the personal question- should have known he’d want to delve deep while you were too drunk to keep your mouth shut. Didn’t stop you you from bringing the bottle to your lips. “Yeah. Who doesn’t?” You were extra generous with the swigs you were taking before Illuso tipped the bottle back down and took it from you.

“Save some for me you selfish fuck.”

He took his own swig but not nearly as much as you.

You didn’t say anything for a moment as you wondered if you were going to act out on your drunkenness or would you just excuse yourself before things got too personal. Of course your curiosity got the best of you, so with slurred words you asked- “How’d you get into Passione, anyway?”

Illuso gave the bottle a last gulp and without missing a beat answered. “I killed the bastard that was sleeping with my partner. Didn’t know however, that their murdered side piece was part of a gang. So when you have a on your tail and you’re too much of a coward to face them yourself, you run to Passion for protection. And you end up like me.”

You gave a satisfied hum and got up. You fucked up and you knew it- now he was going to ask you how you ended up in Passione.

“Where are you going?”

“The vodka is done and so am I.” You lied.

"Like fuck you are.” Illuso stumbled after you but once he was up he was much more steady on his feet than you were, trailing behind you as you wobbled through the hallway to the bedroom. He grabbed hold of your shoulders and turned you around- making you grab onto the wall for support.

The two of you, properly saturated with booze, leaned against the wall with your shoulders as you gazed into each other’s eyes. “How did you end up in Passione?”

You were pretty drunk- but not drunk enough to forget the pain that came with that question. The booze only helped to make you more emotional and more likely to spill the beans but you tried to turn around back to your destination once again but he grabbed hold of your hand again to stop you in your tracks.

“Pretty please. I spilled my guts now you get to spill yours.”

You balled your fists and tried to say as stable as possible as you turned to look him in the eye. “MY boyfriend had debts to pay to this shithole gang and he sold me as collateral.”

Illuso seemed to process your words and then almost victoriously said. “So THAT’s why you’re so fucking stuck up! The bastard stabbed you in the back, didn’t he?”

The words hit you and in response you pushed him away- it was lucky he was too tall for you to push over in your already weakened state but he did stumble back a few steps. “Fucking prick! Is that all you wanted to know? Why I don’t trust anyone? Why I keep to myself? I didn’t want to have my brains fucked out for the rest of my life so I clawed my way up through the ranks! Only to end up here! Which wouldn’t be so bad ‘cause I thought-“

You clenched your first again and turned around. You’d babbled enough at him.

“Y/n.” Illuso took a few steps closer again, propping himself up against the wall. “You thought what?”

You swallowed down the lump in your throat- might as well finish what you started. “I thought you guys weren’t so bad. You didn’t treat me like an idiot so I figured you must have had some kind of respect for me.”

There was a beat of silence as you two stared each other down- a scowl on each of your faces. Then, rather awkwardly, Illuso’s hand landed on your shoulder again and perhaps it was just because both of you were too far gone to have inhibitions but you moved into his chest, pressing your chin into the nook of his neck- his hand moving up your back to hold you in a strangely comforting hug, Illuso slightly bending down to allow you to let the pain subside into him.

He rubbed over your back softly then spoke against your temple. “I know.”

There was some understanding between the two of you. You quietly separated and he guided you to the bedroom where you ungracefully face planted down in typical drunk fashion onto the bed. Through the pillow on your face you shouted-

“Don’t go.”

You thanked whatever was ruling the universe that he didn’t ask you anything. He tiredly moved away from the door, moving you to make room for himself beside you. He kicked off his shoes and splat down stomach first onto the bed.

He didn’t lull you with lies about being able to trust them. He didn’t reassure you that it was going to get better. But you suppose knowing he understood was all the comfort you needed. As the night passed you over, you woke up with a headache only to see Illuso’s hand cupping yours in the space between you.

So you laid your head back down and slept it off- feeling at ease.

#JoJo's Bizarre Adventure #Jojo no Kimyou na Bouken #jojo part 5 #jojo golden wind #la squadra #lasquadraweek2020 #Illuso #illuso x reader

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crusherthedoctor · 4 years

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When taking Lutrudis as a concept into account, it could be argued that the decision to have her live in a big, fairytale-like castle would be an unwise idea, maybe even counterintuitive, since a place so extravagant might undermine her intended loneliness and yearning for a more fulfilling life, adventure, and all that jazz before Sonic and company entered the picture. The last thing I’d want with Trudy would be to remind people of Chris “woe is me” Thorndyke and his rich kid mansion lifestyle. Not to mention that since some of the townspeople in Lime Shores can act rather ignorant (and in some cases, antagonistic) towards her, a lavish castle might also undermine the underdog nature of that particular setup.

Despite these concerns however, I felt confident with my plan, and I figured that as long as I knew what I was doing, readers would understand what I had in mind. I’ve explained in the past that a castle would better accommodate someone with her EDS, so right off the bat, you already have a practical justification for it. It also helps that whereas the accursed Thorndyke had his parents, friends, grandad, butler, etc etc etc etc... Trudy genuinely had no one to turn to before the heroes arrived for their intended vacation. So with that said, let’s examine this particular building for a bit, complete with pics for comparison’s sake, as well as a certain cavern full of Ethereal goodness that happens to be nearby...

Creating the Residence: Trudy’s Castle

Let’s get the obvious out of the way: The outside environment is not too subtly inspired by Autumn Plains from Spyro 2, better known to non-Spyro fans as my blog background.

A serene yet lonely autumnal forest backdrop, with a big stone castle smack dab in the center. It’s not one-to-one the same of course - instead of a pool, the front area boasts a lovely garden full of different flowers, and there’s also a lake nearby - but the mood is more or less what you see here.

However, this partly serves to contrast with what’s behind closed doors. As acknowledged in Beyond the Stars proper, the interior of the castle instead goes for a different and grander, yet equally inviting atmosphere when you take that first step inside. Instead of stone, you see marble and wood, and instead of grey and green, you have reds, creams, maroons, and golds (with a few complimentary blues and purples thanks to the flags hovering above).

As the lady herself mentions, Trudy discovered that the interior was in a state of disarray when she obtained it, and she was of the belief that a castle as beautiful and rich in history as this one deserved better than to be forgotten and wither away in the coming generations. The least she felt she could do was give it a modern, yet respectful redecoration, and give the old building a second, loving life in the process.

Yes, that means every spot of detail inside this castle was done single-handedly. Entirely on her lonesome. It took ages to complete, especially when taking her EDS into account, but she was determined to give the place its due, and lo and behold, the effort more than paid off. (You know, such levels of determination bring a blue hedgehog to mind...)

And that’s just the intended vision for the main hallway! We haven’t touched the other rooms yet! (Since a castle would have quite a lot of rooms, it goes without saying that for the sake of keeping this post from going even longer, we won’t be covering literally every single room... just the most important and/or most noteworthy ones. :o)

The bathroom can be described as a mix between the two examples below, combining the semi-medieval build of the former with the sky blue palette and general relaxing style of the latter.

Though that said, while the bath remains there for any guests to use, Trudy personally uses a shower since it’s more convenient for someone with her condition.

The kitchen (or as Sonic likes to call it, “the palace of chili dog magic”) mostly comes in cool browns and blacks, and its intended appearance is probably one of the more obvious combinations of old-timey and modern. It also has a slightly country aesthetic compared to the other rooms, because ha ha, horses, geddit.

The greenhouse at the back brings back the heavy amounts of green (well duh, the clue’s in the name, isn’t it?), while also providing contrast with the whiteness of the structure and architecture. Complete with giant arched windows, because of course.

And the segue point between the greenhouse and the rest of the castle looks something along these lines, at least with the way the building itself connects.

Even the chambers underneath the castle manage to look classy and clean. And just as well, since it’s where Tails parks the Tornado for the remainder of his time in Viridonia, once he FINALLY remembers to get it off the Lime Shore beach...

You know another benefit of such a spacious area? You get to turn it into a makeshift workshop for all your gadget needs, Tornado-related or otherwise. I’m sure that won’t come in handy at some point...

The guest bedroom is one of the most curious rooms of the lot, because even though it’s as nice and tidy as you’d expect, it’s also rather... muted compared to everywhere else. Perhaps Trudy felt no need to modify it further in any specific way, since no one had ever bothered to stop by anyway... until you-know-who and the gang.

And we can’t forget to mention our fair equine’s OWN bedroom now, can we? Her bedroom opts for darker colours, yet no less therapeutic, which includes the canopy bed that she rests in. You can actually see the general idea with the bedroom (and the outside of the castle for that matter) for yourself, in the Dame of the Daisy mini-comic, courtesy of my awesome friend @benignmilitancy.

Likewise, although this shot is currently incomplete (don’t worry, Benign is fine with me using it :P), meaning some details haven’t been added yet, you can also get a basic idea of how the balcony is supposed to look here, along with the complimentary view of Viridonia’s oceans.

So what kind of music would befit Trudy’s castle, you may ask? Well, taking every detail into account, we would need something that goes for that perfect mix of adventure, wonder, warmth... and a faint hint of sadness lurking beneath. Something that gets all four across, but not in a generic, run-of-the-mill orchestra sort of way. Something a little more ambient and down-to-earth, with a more unique and specific kind of intimacy. Something like...

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This would apply for when you’re inside, mind you. Outside the castle, the surrounding forest would have a theme of its own, though it would share that similar combination of melancholic friendliness. So for the outside, we would go with something more like...

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Overall, the idea behind Trudy’s castle - aside from being her residence and looking enviously pretty - is to add to Trudy’s own character. It’s said that one’s home can say a lot about a person, and I made sure that every room shared a consistent narrative when reading between the lines. They may differ in shape, and they may even differ in colour, but the story is kept consistent at all times. We know that our girl is elegant, we know that our girl has slightly antiquated tastes... and we know that until the arrival of Sonic and Co, our girl was extremely lonely, and isolated by her peers, to the point of staving off said loneliness and isolation by making the place as lavishly detailed as it is in the first place. And just as the stony exterior hides the more fanciful interior, so too is there more to Trudy herself than at first glance.

Besides, not counting Eggman’s endless list of tributes to himself, we don’t often see the characters’ homes in the games, do we? We’ve seen Angel Island for Knuckles, the Space Colony A.R.K. for Shadow, that shack belonging to the Chaotix in Heroes, a few pads of varying consistency depending on the game (Tails’ workship in SA1 VS his house in Battle)... but not much more than that. And what better contrast to Sonic being something of a nomad, than by Trudy living a place like this?

But we’re not done just yet. Last but not least, we can’t forget that mysterious cave hiding down below, where countless amounts of Ethereal Crystals can be found undisturbed... You can bet that such a place would be suitably attention grabbing.

Since the crystals themselves come in practically every shade of the rainbow and then some, the resulting combination - specifically their reflecting shine - ends up painting the cavern walls with just as much colour.

It may feel a tad surreal and almost alien, to the point of being a little intimidating for some, arguably. But you know in your heart of hearts that as long as Eggman isn’t in the equation, there is no need to be fearful. After all, Trudy knows it better than anyone else, and although the crystals and their properties may hail from unknown, possibly uncomfortable origins, the horse herself continues to use them for wholly benevolent purposes.

Such a cavern would deserve a theme of its own, no? We’ll need something that drives home the point that the power within has no inherent morality, and can only be as good or as evil as the person using them. So although Trudy’s own intentions are firmly on the side of good, we’ll also need an added touch of minor eeriness lingering in the background, to represent the overarching threat and subsequent implications of Eggman dipping his own hands into the metaphorical Ethereal well, on top of its already unexplained otherworldliness...

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So yes, it’s quite a pleasant castle that Trudy has, eh?

But this isn’t the only castle that can be found in Viridonia...

Well, it used to be the only one of its kind on the island... until a certain doctor stopped by, decided to beat the horse at her own game, and create his own, darker counterpart in response... But we’ll get to that when we get to that, ho ho ho.

#Creating Viridonia #Sonic the Hedgehog #Fanfiction

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ethereousdelirious · 4 years

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For that meme I was having trouble with! I went with @\salamanderskin 's suggested of B.eauJes but I have another pairing lined up now (N.atsby) if someone wants to submit another set of prompts. The post shouldn't be too far down my blog haha

Both these scenes are waaaay longer than drabbles because that's how I roll 😎

Posting from mobile, I'll have to fix any catastrophic formatting errors later

Beau's muscles burned with the fatigue of a day's travel. She set down her bag on one of the beds and surveyed the room for a good place to stand up her staff, absentmindedly stretching out one deltoid as she did so.

She had grown used to the pain of muscle soreness, but couldn't deny that something felt off. Her skin was hot and felt tight, chafing at even the light touch of her robes and what had started as a light ache in her temples now flared up when she moved too fast.

In a flurry of movement and thudding footsteps, Jester swept into the room behind her. "It's tiny," she complained, throwing her bag down on one of the beds.

"That's what she said." Beau leaned her staff in one of the corners and turned to face Jester, who was giggling. "So now what?"

Jester had already turned away, busily examining what little furniture stood in the room other than the beds. "Maybe we could go exploring?"

A sudden, unexplainable wave of exhaustion washed over Beau, and she wished she had her staff to lean on. Instead, she let herself fall back on the bed with an exaggerated groan, trying not to wince at the stab of pain in her head. "I'm pretty tired."

"You're tired?" Boots on wood, the creak of the mattress. Jester sat down on Beau's pelvis and peered at her.

"Um, a little." Beau made herself look away. "It's just a headache."

"Awww," Jester pouted.

"Don't let me stop you," Beau said, bouncing her hips a little to make Jester laugh. "I'll just stay here and take a nap or whatever."

Jester's eyes got wide. "Ohhh," she said in apparent understanding. "Got it."

"Huh?"

Jester hopped off the bed, grabbed her purse, and made for the door. "I'll tell the others not to bother you," she said, her eyes gleaming.

"Thank you?" Beau said. Jester left, and Beau kicked off her boots so she could get under the covers. She was too tired to try to figure out what Jester was on about.

Despite the fatigue crawling down her spine, sleep did not come easily. It was still light out and pain drummed in her head no matter where she faced or which muscles she massaged.

She was only aware of having fallen asleep when she woke up to loud knocking and the sensation of having been locked in a sauna for hours. Frantic, disoriented, she kicked off the covers and looked around for the danger, for whatever was making her heart pound so frantically.

"Beau?" Jester stood in the doorway. "Are you okay?"

Beau almost laughed. Her skin was on fire, her head throbbed in time with her racing heart. She looked beyond Jester to see if any of their friends had followed her, but it was just the two of them. "I don't feel so good," she admitted.

"Oh no!" Jester flitted over to her and knelt so she could put her hand on Beau's back. Beau tried not to flinch at the nervous butterflies in her stomach. "What's the matter? You feel really warm."

"Yeah," Beau agreed, leaning forward and putting her face in her hands. "My head is killing me."

"Lie back," Jester said. Beau obeyed without question. "Oh, your face is all red. Do you think you have a fever?"

"Maybe?" Beau said. Now that she was out from under the covers, the air in the room felt uncomfortably cold against her sweat-soaked skin. She shuddered.

Jester bunched up some of the fabric from the sheet and wiped the sweat from Beau's brow. Then she leaned in and pressed her lips against Beau's forehead. "Mm," she hummed thoughtfully, sending a rush of air across Beau's fever-sensitive skin. Jester pulled back. "You're definitely sick."

"Ah, shit." Shame flooded Beau in an instant. "Don't tell the others."

The inn they had stopped at was small for Jester's taste. She was trying to keep an open mind about less-than-ideal lodgings, but it was so hard sometimes. Still, she kept her mouth shut as she ascended the stairs behind Beau, who had taken the key to their shared room and slipped away with uncharacteristic silence while the others were still chatting in the lobby.

The hallway was as boring as a hallway could be, so Jester quickened her pace, eager to see the room. She came in through the doorway and stopped abruptly, disappointed but not surprised.

"It's tiny!"

Beau pivoted to face her, wearing a goofy grin. "That's what she said." She walked over to one of the corners to put away her staff and Jester turned, distracted by one of the nightstands. She pulled open the drawer and started examining the wood for interesting graffiti or marks. "So now what?" Beau asked.

Jester shut the drawer and stood back up. "Maybe we could go exploring?"

Beau threw her arms out wide and fell backwards onto one of the beds with a noise like a dying whale. "I'm pretty tired."

Jester frowned at the prospect exploring without Beau. Maybe Jester could get her to change her mind! She bounded over to the bed and sat down on Beau's pelvis, careful not to put too much weight down on her. "You're tired?" Beau looked absolutely fine, maybe a little sunburnt from the trip. Half a day's walking shouldn't have worn her out this much.

Beau suddenly couldn't meet Jester's eye. "Um, a little," she said. "It's just a headache."

Something clicked in Jester's mind. Beau was obviously angling for some alone time so she could-- Well. "Ohhhh. Got it." She hopped off Beau, hoping her blush wasn't visible.

"Huh?" said Beau.

"I'll tell the others not to bother you," Jester squealed, grabbing her purse and rushing for the door.

"Thank you?" Beau called, but Jester was already shutting the door.

The town where they had stopped not much to look at. Caleb predictably got distracted by a bookstore and while Jester made a half-hearted sweep of the place of naughty books, it wasn't much fun without Beau there to laugh with.

Jester went back early and made sure to knock loudly on the door in case Beau was still… engaging in personal time. After a pause, Jester got bored and came in anyway in time to catch Beau launching herself out of bed like she was expecting to be attacked.

"Beau?" Jester asked, worry twisting her heart. "Are you okay?"

Beau was quiet for a moment before answering. "I don't feel so good," she said in a voice so defeated it almost made Jester want to cry.

"Oh no!" She rushed over to Beau and put a hand on her back, which was radiating an abnormal amount of heat for a human. "What's the matter? You feel really warm."

Beau buried her face in her hands. "Yeah," she said, muffled. "My head is killing me."

Jester weighed the possibilities. "Lie back," she said. Beau's forehead was soaked in sweat, so she probably didn't have heatstroke. That would have come on quicker anyway, as it wasn't all that warm in their little room. "Your face is all red. Do you think you have a fever?"

"Maybe?" Beau shuddered and drew her arms in.

Jester used the sheet to wipe the sweat off Beau's forehead and leaned in so she could feel her temperature with her lips, just like her Mama used to do. "Hmm." Being a tiefling, it was hard to tell sometimes, but Jester was certain that humans weren't supposed to run this hot. "You're definitely sick."

"Ah, shit," Beau said. "Don't tell the others."

#ethereous writes

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mat2modblog · 4 years

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A text review of Digimon Adventure: Last Evolution Kizuna

Boring trite nostalgia-pandering nonsense. Why do people think this is better than Tri when it falls into some of the same pitfalls and then some?

It even focuses too much on Tai and Yamato, the other characters do next to nothing (I mean Izzy and the 02 kids helped investigate and the 02 kids held the front lines when the Eosmon invaded the real world but none of that really amounted to much) when Tri allowed ALL the first series kids to shine. It's clear at the very least that the story of the 02 kids isn't over yet.

Where did the phone digivices come from? (presumably Izzy made them) What are they even called? What functions do they have that the original digivices and normal cell phones don’t have (the FANDOM wiki claims that they can "suck Humans and Digimon into games“ but the source cited is gone and they sure as hell didn’t do that in the movie)? Are they really more worth using than the original digivices? They're entirely unexplained...

Greymon was able to go toe-to-toe Parrotmon even without Tai's help in his first appearance and suddenly a bunch of champion-levels have trouble taking it down? Also since when did Parrotmon "not normally like to fight"? Literally his first appearance was fighting Greymon!

The movie seems to be retconning the 02 ending which is fine but introducing a random plot device (in this case, the time limit for being a Digidestend) out of freaking nowhere is NOT the right way to do it.

What the hell happened to Dark Gennai and Yggdrasill?

They recycled the whole "the new woman character who lost her digimon is the main villain and she's a villain solely because she lost her digimon" thing from Tri and the whole "the red herring is actually a member of law enforcement" thing was done to death the moment Scooby-Doo did it in the 1960s...

Also aside from maybe Meiko, you seriously expect me to believe that any of them would just give in and allow Eosmon to manipulate them?! Also where the hell did Meicoomon's data even come from? SHE'S DEAD! FOR GOOD!

Also those BS mega stage digievolutions from freaking out of nowhere are just as unexplained as Gatomon having two mega forms and Magnadramon's double helix tail.

If you didn't like Tri and wanted explanations for the things left unexplained, don't bother watching this.

1/5

#digimon adventure #digimon adventure last evolution kizuna #digimon adventure tri #digimon

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modestlyabsurd · 5 years

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Humble Beginnings (Loki x Reader)

Being taller than most, it's a different view. Physically looking down at people varies a bit from doing so in a smug manner. Especially when the mind is now absorbing things in a new way; or at least, it's attempting to.

The people all look different from each other, and yet similar at the same time. Suppose that could be just because it's only an assessment from a few seconds observation of each individual. The loud, overestimulating environment doesn't help either. The propogandic billboards, buses with advertisements obnoxiously splattered across them, and speaking of obnoxious.

These humans and their phones.

It's clear, some of the differences. No skin tone is exactly the same. Hair tends to vary nearly as much, ranging from long to short to naught, from straight to curly, in any color imaginable. Part lines in scalps are fascinating. The curvature of noses is also quite interesting from such a perspective. But one thing seems to remain the same, and that is the amount of hands holding cellphones.

It's unnerving.

To think that the idea of being ruled was so outlandish, all whilst they are unknowingly being ruled already - by something far less benevolent than me.

His thoughts go to that dark place for a split second. He spares himself a smirk, before remembering. That was wrong of him.

He regrets it. And not just because "that's what the doctor said", but genuinely. If Loki could go back in time and pull some strings, he would undo many of his actions. But the doctor also reminds him regularly that he was not himself at that time. That he was mind controlled, which bothers him even more. How weak he must have been to have fallen under such influence.

But that is in the past, and cannot be changed. However he has control over himself now; he can change the present as well as the future.

As much as he damn well hates to admit it, the therapy is working.

Assigned by Stark himself, Loki's therapist has now given him more freedoms on Earth - at the cost of his progress, of course. Apparently he's been doing exceptionally well, since he's now allowed to walk and roam the streets of New York City unsupervised.

(For two hours a day, in a nine block radius, with all six Avengers ready if he were to pull anything suspicious.)

So far he's gone and snuck in to see a film in the movie theater once - a strange animation revolving around talking fish who are prone to misplacing one another - he's browsed the two bookstores within the radius, conjured roses and left them for street performers playing their music, and spent a great deal of time in a particular coffee shop.

... It's been nicer than he thought it would be.

Even now, as men and women who are on important phone calls or simply aren't paying attention carelessly collide into him, he's enjoying himself. The weather is beginning to chill more and more each day, and on this young evening the sky is a cloudy silver. He's been hoping for a storm.

His feet are carrying him down a certain sidewalk. Confident, secure steps. He fiddles with the pocket watch in his warm, faux leather jacket pocket. Embossed in the cover is the letter S, for Stark Industries. Embedded in the gears is a tracking device. Understandable, he admits, running his thumb over the watch. He knows himself better than anyone. Which isn't saying much.

Attaining that elusive balance is the most difficult for Loki. The balance within only him, of self-trust, and the lack of such. Most beings have moral compasses which guide them in the right direction through life. Loki's decided that he has a moral pendulum that swings wherever the wind blows it. A weakness, without question, that will be his downfall one day.

"Unless you become the wind."

He'd argued that with the doctor. Things never go exactly as you plan them. Life's wind tends to blow a bit harder.

"Then you become a rock, a boulder, a shield to your pendulum. Unmovable against the wind."

Easier said than done. But doable nonetheless, he supposed.

His ever-descending thoughts are interrupted by the rich, seductive smell of coffee. He can suddenly feel his heart beating as he sees the caramel brown walls through large storefront windows. The view gets larger and he sees the charming wall artwork of a cappuccino with intricate designs in the cream. He thumbs the pocket watch.

A customer hurries through the door, a warm drink in hand, leaving the coffee shop empty. He clicks the silver watch open. 7:42. It's nearing closing time for the shop.

Hidden behind the neon "open" sign, he steps along the sidewalk, peering in from the darkening cold outside. And there you are.

His heart races - it practically soars.

Wiping down the countertops and tabletops, erasing the daily specials from the chalkboards, sweeping strands of hair out of your face along the way. Focused. Hard-working ... yet elegant. Beautiful.

You're headed toward the back of the shop and when Loki loses sight of you, he swallows down his nerves and strides in.

The charming little entrance bell resurfaces his unexplainable anxiety. It was loud and it got your attention. He had to think fast. But no matter - he had a plan of action ready long before, thanks to a close connection. A friend, perhaps.

Loki's jaw drops briefly as you reappear behind the sales counter, but he smoothly recovers with a Cheshire smile, "Hello Y/N."

You're re-tying the brown apron around your waist when his voice suddenly catches you very off guard. "Hi," you all but sputter.

Oh goodness, you scold yourself. If only you could somehow prepare for Loki's visits in advance. He drops in at the most inconvenient times as far as your appearance goes - you'd like to not have flour all over you, coffee stains on your clothes, and maybe do something more with your hair. But with Loki ... you'll take whatever you can get. Especially since you can't seem to form a complete sentence when he's around anyway.

He has eyes that could take you on an infinite trip throughout the entire universe. And he tends to keep steady eye contact. It's intense. It makes you physically squirm.

Much like now, when you suddenly notice how nice he looks tonight. You wished there was somewhere to divert your attention such as other customers, but it's almost eight. No one wants coffee at this time.

Except for Loki, who has his full attention on you. A dark pink dusting his smiling cheeks.

"What're you doing here?" you found a voice. "It's getting late."

You begin clearing out what's left of the muffins and cookies from the display case directly beside the sales counter, pulling each one out and placing them in a container. Loki watches your movements as well as your face, desperate for a longer look into your eyes.

"Well," he chuckles nervously, "I was just heading back from seeing another film in the cinema - I can't remember the title at the moment ... Something about a lowly peasant who discovers a strange genie and together they must save a princess and her kingdom, while the peasant subsequently wins the princess's heart in the process."

You suppress a smile. "Aladdin?"

"Yes! That's it. I quite enjoyed it, really. Although the genie and his, eh ... sense of humor took a bit of time to tolerate. I think having someone accompanying me to interpret it would've perhaps made it easier."

You've yet to stop cleaning since he came in. This is harder than he expected.

Collecting himself, he steadily asks, "Is the kitchen still open for service?"

You glance at the clock on the wall, with a quintessential coffee cup in the middle of it. "For the next fifteen minutes, yes. What can I get for you?"

Before he can get a still glimpse of you for more than a second, you're heading for the kitchen. The sound of running water indicates that you're washing your hands.

Left to himself, he speaks over the sound toward the kitchen, "Would a couple of cookies and a hot chocolate be too much?"

"Absolutely not," you bubbled back.

A familiar song plays softly throughout the coffee shop as Loki notices. He's heard it before, the man singing with poetic but very, very Midgardian lyrics, accompanied by almost lullaby-like music. And then he hears another voice singing the words - only it's not reverberating through the speakers but humming gently from your mouth.

Loki finds himself watching you once again. You pour thick, steaming hot chocolate into a cup with careful hands, while singing this lovely tune playing. He's mesmerized. Confused, definitely, as to why he's so mesmerized. And why he's been mesmerized ever since he first saw you and learned your name. Why he cares so much about you, why he longs to see you when he's not around. Even if only in small-talking, short lived increments.

"Must be something in the drinks."

"Hm?" you stop singing suddenly.

Loki nearly implodes. Thankfully he's a quick thinker.

"I was just trying to remember - what is this song that's playing?"

"It's called Scar Tissue by The Red Hot Chili Peppers."

He'll remember that.

"Ah. Thank you, I - " he laughs, "the names of certain things have been eluding me as of late. For a moment I thought it could be something in these drinks of yours."

You grin. You grin!

Loki's mouth goes dry. He takes a sip of his hot chocolate after you set it on the counter for him, unable to look away from you.

The taste of chocolate coats his mouth, the smell fills his nose. You glance up at him with that grin - for a split second - before turning away. Gods, he thinks. How beautiful you are.

"It's probably just the time change," he changes the subject. Fills the silence. "I've read that the changing of the seasons can largely affect many aspects of one's everyday life. Like their sleeping patterns, their cravings, their memory. I've read that some can even react to the change in temperature, as well, did you know that?"

You shake your head, wrapping the last two chocolate chip cookies of the night in some wax paper and placing it on the counter.

"Y'know, the nights seem to have gotten darker as well. I could walk you home if you'd like."

You pause involuntarily. How can the mere idea of something make your heart skip ten beats? Shouldn't that kill you?

"No," you declined, "that's okay. I appreciate it."

"Yeah. Anytime."

Loki's watch vibrates in his pocket. He reaches for it, discreetly disabling the alarm that told him it was eight o'clock. Exactly two hours since he left the compound, giving him exactly ten minutes to arrive back before a small army tracks and descends upon him.

A deflated balloon comes to mind.

"Well," he replaces his watch, "at least be sure that you use precaution out there. It's cold, and dark, and the perfect time for monsters to be out."

You nod. A piece of hair falls into your face and Loki has the strong urge to brush it behind your ear. So strong that his fingers twitch.

He picks up his cookie and hot chocolate to fix the problem when he remembers a key part of the transaction - the actual transaction. "Oh! I need to purchase this - "

"Don't worry about it. It's on the house."

He freezes mid-search for some money in his pocket. You're looking him straight in the eye with pure ... purity. He takes you in, drinks you up. Your voice, the apples of your cheeks, your smallness compared to him. Tingles spread throughout his chest and he learns that that is one of the most pleasant sensations he's ever felt.

"That's very kind. In that case ... " he pushes one of the untouched cookies still on the counter toward you.

You look down at his thin, pale hand.

"For you."

A premature scolding lodges in your throat as he's heading out the door. But before he exits into the autumn cold, he turns on his heel and smiles at you. "Goodnight, Y/N."

"Goodnight, Loki."

tag list: @arttasticgreatnessoftheawesome77 @afinedilemma @fire-in-her-veinz @belladonnabarnes @drakesfiance @internetgremlin @dragon-chica @triggeredpossum

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kuuderepunkin · 4 years

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May I please have a match up for Death note and Assassination classroom?

I’m an INTJ, Scorpio,I like to draw/paint and write. When I get the chance to Im very out going but I’m normally very shy and cold at first. I love true crime and psychology sometimes I just watch people to see why they act a certain way I have a very low self esteem and I have problems eating and sleeping, I know how to use people to get want I want and I can change my personality to make the people around me like me a lot better

When I’m in a bad mood I normally just want to be alone and way from everyone except for the person I love or am closest with. I deal with a lot at home so I don’t like being yelled at at all and tend to flinch a lot. When I get comfortable with someone I am very cuddly and clingy.

I have dark blue hair right now and blue eyes, I normally have to wear glasses but don’t if I can help it. My style is punk mixed with grunge. I love dark things but secretly like cute things.

Of course! Honestly I love true crime/psychology too o0o and I feel you on the home life, so I hope these help out at least a little bit <3 I hope you enjoy these!

Death Note matchup: L Lawliet

I would match you up with L for a couple reasons, you’re both analytical and observant of people, your interest in true crime and psychology obviously interests him as well. And your initial shy or cold personality does not bother him one bit, he’s a patient man and highly observant himself. He is very interested in your appearance as well, it’s quite unique and draws his attention immediately. When he first sees and approaches you, it’s a bit awkward, because he kind of just stares at you which may be a bit uncomfortable.

Your first meeting was probably a public police press conference, it was discussing the current growth in unexpected and unexplainable strings of deaths attached to criminals.

As always L was there just in the background despite being the one who wrote most the police reports, when he spotted you in the crowd.

You had probably heard about the case on the radio or news and became curious about the details, being a fan of true crime you wanted to see what the police investigation had turned up.

As the press conference went on you began to feel uneasy, when you caught someone staring at you. It was unsettling at first but the moment the dark haired male caught you making eye contact with him, he approached you. His piercing eyes just bore into you as he remained quiet, the two of you just standing there in false silence as the detectives began to talk about their leads in the case.

After that long awkward exchange L finally speaks and bluntly tells you he likes your hair and the “manner in which you dress.”

He curiously asks you about your opinion on the case, if you tried to cater your personality to fit a discussion with him I think he would catch on to the flexibility in your disposition.

L is very interested in what you have to say about the case, any outside perspectives are always riveting to him. If given the chance he is very excited to tell you about his personal theories on the case.

Before the two of you go your separate ways he asks for your phone number or other means of contacting you. And to ease your suspicion of his strange mannerisms he tells you who he actually is, because the time he spent talking with you he decided there was no chance you would be involved with the case, so revealing his true identity wouldn’t jeopardize anything.

It doesn’t take long for him to become attached to you, and he invites you over often to talk about different true crimes and analyze different people in deep intellectual conversations. He really enjoys having someone to discuss these topics with, let alone someone he finds himself becoming attracted to.

Even before the two of you become an official couple he will point out that you haven’t “eaten the proper amount of food necessary to sustain the human body.” And he does not hesitate to get you some food, insisting that it’s important for your mind and body.

Sadly, he is also not the best when it comes to getting rest, so sometimes he will make a compromise, he will join you in trying to get some much needed sleep. If it’s not just because you fail to get sleep, but have trouble falling asleep he will do his best to find solutions for you.

He’ll make you tea, rub your back, play with your hair to lull you to sleep, and if you’re up for it he will cuddle with you to make you feel warm and secure.

L never yells so you don’t have to worry about that at all, besides he’s so patient I feel that it would take a lot for him to become remotely upset. And if someone else is raising their voice he is quick to deescalate the situation. He’s also not a fan of people being loud, and if you’ve told him about your rocky home life he does not tolerate people making you upset.

And while L may not seem to be the type to be into affection, he truly adores it, but he never rushes into it. Especially understanding you are more introverted. Once you become comfortable with physical touch he will always crave to be near you. Not always in extremely obvious forms of affection, but he enjoys sitting next to you with his legs touching your own as your arms press into each other.

He will intertwine his fingers with yours as the two of you sit beside one another. He loves when you lean your head on his shoulder and sometimes he will put his head on your own.

When watching television on his couch he loves being the big spoon, or just sitting up and having you sit between his legs with your back against his chest. I feel he may be a bit touch starved but he only craves being near people he trusts.

I can see him watching you from the side as you draw or paint only to sneak up and gently take your glasses off and put them on, curious as to how it feels to look out of them. He gives them back after checking himself out in a nearby mirror.

Contrary to belief he is not critical about everything, by this I mean he is never critical of your art. He is curious and observant and will ask questions but he will never give his own opinion unless told explicitly to do so.

He appreciates your creativity and believes putting any kind of critical analysis on something you care deeply about, that has to do with self expression, is counter productive.

He also loves getting you gifts, it’s a mix of both your grunge/dark aesthetic and your love for cute things, somehow he finds the perfect things to get for you. Anytime he has to leave you for a job he sends gifts to you to remind you he’s constantly thinking about you.

Assassination Classroom matchup: Karma Akabane

As for Assasination Classroom there are a lot of good candidates, so choosing a single character to match you with was a close call. Nagisa is a great match for intellect and psychological discussion but his well mannered behavior may prove difficult in breaking through your initial cold exterior. Karma on the other hand is quite smart despite not initially putting his full effort in the series, and his edgy aesthetic and personality would be a great match for your own grunge/punk style. Talk about power couple, he will bring out the best (or worst) in you. He’s slightly teasing but he knows where to draw the line because his intention is not to make you upset just to see your reactions.

If you have even an ounce of sass in you, he’s going to help draw it out, making remarks about others and having you join in makes his heart grow 10 sizes. He’s so proud he can have the effect of making you more confident, even if it’s just because he’s around you.

While he hates to admit it, he’s pretty smart if he would just put the effort in. So while you discuss your interests in criminal cases and psychology he will do his best to entertain you without revealing too much of the intellect he is in public.

Luckily in private he doesn’t care how much he shows off his intelligence, he will hold long discussions with you about different people you’ve seen and the two of you will pick apart their personality and analyze every aspect of their possible psychology behind why they act the way they do.

When the two of you watch a movie you often discuss the characters and maybe how ridiculous the plot is. He’s a savage and will tear down the villains in the media because of how ridiculous they can be. It can get to the point where he’s analyzing the writers at some point because “who would write such a two dimensional character? They’re not even likeable.”

He will not let you neglect your health and will constantly remind you to eat and keep hydrated. Sometimes it sounds like he’s nagging but it’s because he doesn’t want to seem like too much of a softie.

And as for your sleeping trouble’s he’s not going to let those slide either, he’s going to be giving you massages, running you soothing baths, preparing you some tea and bed time activities to help you unwind.

If you’re down to let him cuddle he’s going to do everything in his power to lull you to sleep, tactical hair brushing, rubbing small circles to your arm.

If people yell around you he’s going to go into dark Karma mode and just be little them to the point they have crippling anxiety and just leave the two of you alone. He tries not to be too confrontational around you because he doesn’t want to make you anxious.

But he’s your body guard and won’t let anyone say or do anything that makes you nervous.

In public he’ll let you cling to him, but he insists he’s just being a good supportive boyfriend, and not that he loves to have you attached to his side.

He slightly teases you about your love of the more cute things, but he bought it for you so he obviously cares enough to make you happy. It just really gets him going to have you be expressive, whether you’re telling him off or blushing from the teasing he’s happy either way.

#Punkin look #Match-ups #submission #matchmaker #gif #I hope you like these!!! ;0;#Punkinwrites

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