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axvwriter · 1 year

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Bobo Tsum Interactions 1 - Heartslabyul

Upon bean-shapes raining from over the Ramshackle Dorm, Bobo wondered if she'd need to get onto the roof. Some of them could have landed there and maybe even got stuck. Though Bobo dismissed the idea of looking when one of the bean-shapes jumped down from the roof on its own. Proving not only to be some sort of creature, but causing Bobo unease with how similar it looked to her. To the point it even had the outfit she wore quite often back in her own world.

After the meeting with Crowley over the bean creatures and naming them Tsumtsums, Bobo had slight mixed feelings on the matter. Would Crowley really be trying to find a way to send them back? If he truly is, did she need to be as troublesome as these Tsumtsums in order for him to actually make any progress with sending her home? Her own look-alike Tsumtsum seemed to be well behaved. It stuck close to herself, barely doing anything. Though Bobo figured it was probably lost on how to react to being in some other world.

As for these Tsumtsums being trouble, Bobo doubted they could do much. It only took for the next day to come around for Bobo to learn how troublesome they could be. Ace and Deuce were sent to chase after Riddle's tsum, which seemed to think it was in charge of everything. Bobo was going to let the two handle the situation, but her own tsum decided to step in.

As the Riddle tsum approached, Bobo's tsum jumped off her shoulder and straight at the other. Smashing into each other, the two tsums seemed to have gotten into a fight. The true Riddle caught up to everyone just as Bobo's tsum seemed to win the fight. Bobo tsum was stacked on top of Riddle tsum, which almost seemed as if it was turning as red as its enraged mage counterpart.

"Bobo? Ah I see your tsum has caught that insolent tsum. My thanks to you two." Riddle addressed, walking over as he prepared to take his tsum.

"I didn't do anything... Bosum did it all on its own." Bobo replied, causing Riddle to pause. Ace and Deuce both looked at Bobo oddly as they repeated the nickname aloud.

"Bosum?"

"Bosum... As in Bobo Tsumtsum. Since Crowley mentioned it takes too long to say that they're out little look-a-like clones, I figure that applies to addressing them as Bobo Tsumtsum and Riddle Tsumtsum. So why not shorten the names together?" Bobo responded, not quite catching why the boys were looking at her so weirdly.

"You're fine addressing your tsum as basically boobies?" Ace chortled.

"That is completely inappropriate!" Riddle snapped, his face matching the color of a tomato as he directed his wrath to Bobo and Ace.

"What? What are you talking about??" Bobo questioned, looking completely confused.

"Bosum does sound quite close to bosom..." Deuce reluctantly pointed out.

"...Do people still use the word, bosom?" Bobo frowned, seeing nothing wrong with calling her tsum that.

"You are not calling it that! If you must insist, at least call it Botsum." Riddle remarked. Even if Bobo isn't one of his dorm members, he wouldn't stand for such language to be used.

"I don't like how that sounds... I might as well just call it Bobo tsum." Bobo pouted a little as she went to scoop up the two tsums on the ground. Though upon separating the two, Riddle's tsum knocked Botsum right out of Bobo's hands. The tsums resuming their fight now that Botsum wasn't pining the other one down anymore.

"Wow, those two really don't get along." Ace commented, scratching the back of his head.

"Why did Botsum even attack... uhm... Riddlesum?" Deuce asked.

"Ridsum. I think that's a better nickname. If I had to guess... Botsum, if we're really sticking to that nickname, wanted to help out. Seeing Ridsum causing trouble must have made it feel the need to intervene." Bobo offered up before swooping in to snatch her tsum away from Ridsum. She had to tuck her tsum into the crook of her arm, keeping it still while she held her other arm out to keep Ridsum from jumping at it.

With Riddle's help, they were able to separate the fighting tsums. It was agreed upon that it would be best to avoid each other until the tsums could be sent home.

♥ ♣ ♦ ♠ ♥

Bobo was walking towards her usual lunch table, Botsum on her shoulder, Grim following behind her, until she heard Cater call out to her.

"Hey Bobo! You got a tsum as well? Wanna take a pic together?" Cater invited. Bobo smiled, saying she'd join him once she put her tray down. Grim chuckled quietly, thinking this meant he could get a free second meal while Bobo's busy. Though that hope was dashed when Bobo handed her trey to Deuce, saying he could have one thing off of it if he kept Grim from eating her food.

"Oh, I see Catsum is also into magicam?" Bobo commented as she approached Cater. Cater's tsum currently held the boy's phone, taking superb photos of his meal.

"Yep! Just like a little me. Oh, your tsum's dressed uniquely. Do you have an outfit you've been hiding from us?" Cater asked as he eyed Botsum. "Wait, did you say Catsum?"

"Mhm... I figure with several tsums about, we can nickname them after each person they take after. Mine's Botsum and Riddle's is Ridsum." Bobo sat down besides Cater, anticipating she should for taking a photo together. "It's actually wearing something I wore back in my world. I'm not sure why though... I would think that with no dorm uniform it would have the school uniform instead."

"That is pretty odd.. Oh? Catsum you're done snapping pics of my food?" Cater's attention was pulled away by his tsum. Said tsum had now positioned itself between Cater and Bobo, getting the camera ready. Catsum paused, looking over at Botsum. As if the two silently communicated, Botsum jumped down from Bobo's shoulder. Glancing at Bobo for a second, Botsum moved to stand besides Catsum, seeming uncertain.

"Cater's my friend, so surely that means you two are friends, right?" Bobo suggested, hoping her tsum won't start fighting like it did with Ridsum. Botsum relaxed a little and even let Catsum move it into a better position. The two tsums pressed to each others' sides as Cater pulled Bobo closer to himself to match the two. With everyone smiling, Catsum snapped several pics.

Botsum flopped over, surprised when Catsum released it to start messing with filters.

"Aww, Botsum seems a bit shy compared to you, Bobo." Cater teased a little as he reached a finger out to poke the tsum.

"Since it's wearing my clothes from my world... maybe it doesn't know any of the other tsums?"

"Really? I suppose it could be that. We should have our tsums go on some play dates! Surely Botsum will be happier to make friends with the other tsums." Cater offered before snickering as Botsum jumped onto Bobo's shoulder, seemingly hiding behind her neck now.

"I like that idea, but Botsum actually got into a fight with Ridsum earlier... I'm not sure if these two will get to see each other too often. Oh, Riddle's coming here. I best go before our tsums start a food fight." Bobo half-heartedly sighed as she stood up to leave.

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tenthgrove · 3 years

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500 Followers Celebration!!!: Part 2 (Yandere Sorbet and Gelato Oneshot)

Apologies for almost forgetting to post this. It's a little something I wrote back in May but never shared with more than a few people. Anyway, I'm shameless, and to celebrate 500 followers I'm releasing it into the wild.

Content warnings: non-consensual drug use, needles (both only mentioned) and typical yandere stuff.

You aren’t certain what the dream was about. It wasn’t a nightmare, you’re certain, but the concrete themes evade you. What you can remember in retrospect, however, is the distinct feeling that something was wrong in the waking world around you. It was as though your rational mind knew, that when the dream ended, the life you would wake up to would be changed irreparably.

The first thing to be said about the room you awake to is that it’s dark. Not the usual dark of your bedroom at night but truly, pitch black. There’s something different about the… aura, as well. Maybe it’s the scent, maybe it’s the feel of your sheets, maybe its the position you’re lying in. This is not your bed.

Your panic rises by the second. Any hope you might still be dreaming is quickly put down to idle hope. Everything about this feels so real. You are struck by the need to get up, to figure out where you are, and kick off the sheets. That’s when you hear rattling. Your arm is heavy. You reach down and feel the cold presence of limp chain at your side. There’s a shackle too, locked around your wrist with no room to wriggle free. If there’s any more proof you needed of what’s happened to you, this is it.

The panic overtakes you. You thrash desperately, pulling at your chain and whimpering in terror. There’s a clicking noise and something pulls free. You become aware of a second item tied around your wrist. It’s a thin string, with nothing attached. You realise with terror that it was some sort of trip-wire.

All possible courses of action spring to your mind too late as footsteps make their way down towards you. There’s multiple people, it sounds like, which doesn’t speak well for your chances. Bundling up your sheets, you huddle against the wall as the door swings open. A light switch flicks on.

As your dark-strained eyes adjust to the light, you are met with the figures of two men. The first, hand still lingering on the switch as he eyes you back, is a slender, dark-dressed man with black hair to match his clothes. The man beside him is smaller and slightly pudgier. His wild green eyes peak out from under his messy yellow hair. His gaze fixes on you, before dissolving into an expression that could be fear, excitement or both. He suddenly lurches forwards. His hands grip your shoulders firmly.

“Oh, look at you!” he coos. You force yourself to meet his gaze and see the wildness with which he looks at you. “Oh Sorbet, aren’t they pretty! Look at them Sorbet, they’re just wonderful!” The hyperactive man stumbles back as though wanting to get a better look at you. His hand is clasped over his mouth like you’re some puppy he just found at the shelter. The taller man takes hold of him from behind and rubs his arms affectionately. His mouth turns up into a small smile.

“Yes my darling, they’re beautiful,” he agrees. “But you shouldn’t touch them just yet. They might still be delirious from the drugs. All said,” he eyes you critically. “They shouldn’t be awake this soon.”

“Does it hurt sweetie?” his partner asks. There’s an uncanny, authentic concern to question that somehow turns your stomach more.

“N-no,” you stammer, keeping your eyes trained on the concrete floor. Truth be told, you’ve got a bit of a headache and the back of your throat pangs with nausea, but it isn’t bad enough to tell them. You decide to keep it to yourself.

“Did you give them that second dose in the end, Gelato?” the calmer man, you believe his name was Sorbet, asks. He approaches you casually and kneels down, pressing a hand to your forehead. “No fever anyway, so it doesn’t look like there’s been a reaction.”

“No. You said not to do it if they seemed fast asleep enough, so I didn’t,” Gelato answers.

“Well, there you have it then,” Sorbet says, apparently satisfied of your good health as he stands back up.

“I could always go find some more of the stuff. If you need more time to get everything ready for them,” Gelato proposes. Sorbet’s eyes flick up and down you as though contemplating what to do with you. He shrugs.

“Probably best to save it. I’d say we’ve already done everything we need to do, so they might as well stay awake for a bit,” he surmises. “Well.” He reaches forward and presses something, a key, you realise when you lean back far enough to look, into a slot on the grate attaching your chain to the wall. It falls free of the wall and chinks onto the ground.

Sorbet leans down again. You realise with a cold sweat that he’s trying to pick you up. Your attempts to scurry into the corner are quickly halted by a sharp yank to your chain, and a moment later you’re lifted against Sorbet’s chest, your faced pressed into the crook of his neck. “Could you please do the door for me, Gel? I’m taking them to the bathroom.” he asks. Gelato mutters something eager and hurries off to open the door from him. You struggle lightly in Sorbet’s hold and he silently presses two fingers against your neck. You take the warning and go still in fear.

Sorbet carries you up a flight of stairs and into the hall of, by all appearances, an ordinary residential house. It’s night, but a warm yellow ceiling lamp sheds light on your surroundings. The walls are a pale, turquoise green, accented by a white wood skirting that runs along the bottom metre. To your left you can see an archway into a clean but cluttered kitchen, lights off, and another staircase is ahead of you bending around to your right. To your right, along the hallway you’ve been carried into, are two more doors, one at the end and one perpendicular to it, the latter of which Sorbet leads you into. Peering over his shoulder, Gelato follows behind you. He catches your gaze and smiles sweetly. You quickly look down at the floor.

Sorbet flicks another switch and another light turns on, along with the gentle humming of ventilation. You adjust your eyes to see that you’re in a small, downstairs bathroom. Furnished with a toilet, sink and shower. Sorbet sits you down on the lid of the toilet and kneels down in front of you.

“You look disorientated. Are you sure you aren’t in any pain?” he asks.

“Just a little,” you admit. Your words a little slurred. “My head hurts. ‘Feel sick too.”

Sorbet sighs.

“You should have told us, (y/n),” he asserts, a hint of frustration, in his voice. That was your name. They know your name somehow. You mumble an apology.

“Oh darling. I’ll have to get you some paracetamol. You really should have said! Oh, and also a bucket for if you get sick in the night. Maybe some ice?”

As Gelato rambles from the doorway, Sorbet pulls a pack of wipes from the sink cabinet and starts to pat down your arms, wiping away the layer of crusted blood. Your heart stills. You didn’t notice that before.

“Why is there blood?” you ask weakly, eyes fixed on the sight. Sorbet dabs away at what appears to be the centre of the wound. His free hand rubs your knuckles slightly.

“You fought back, don’t you remember? Some defensive damage was inevitable,” he answers you.

“No!” you refute, louder than you intended. “I don’t remember anything like that. I don’t know howI got here.”

“Ah,” Sorbet responds. “I imagine that’s from what we gave you,” he explains. A few images flash across the back of your mind. Broken glass. Screaming, fighting. The feeling of being pinned to the floor. Your stomach twitches and you swallow back tears.

“What’s the matter sweetie? You look sad,” Gelato notices. No shit you’re sad. You’ve just been snatched from your home and yet to receive any guarantee you’ll live until morning. There’s a part of you that wants to scream these thoughts to them, but you’re too paralysed by fear and tiredness to do so. The tears start to run.

“Oh darling, darling!” Gelato hushes you, rushing over to wipe your eyes. “Don’t cry, it’s okay! We’re going to look after you!”

“Caro, you’re very good to them but I doubt any of that will work right now. They’re too worked up,” Sorbet notes. You sob into your lap as Gelato caresses your shoulder.

“We can’t just leave them like this, Sorbet. Not alone,” he shivers.

“Perhaps you’re right. Maybe it’s best we put them out again after all. We’ll be better ready to deal with this in the morning,” Sorbet suggests.

“Yes, that’s probably for the best, come on Sweetie, let’s get you back to bed shall we?” Gelato takes your chain and starts to haul you back towards the stairs to the basement, with Sorbet following close behind. When the dark of the basement hits you again, you’re just about ready to fall asleep, but you’re still aware enough to note the peculiar furnishings you missed before.

The mattress you woke up on is tucked away in the corner, swarmed with cushions, pillows and blankets. There’s a small cabinet next to it, along with a table a few feet away with a TV on it. On the other end of the room is a mini-fridge, next to a large empty case of shelves. Are those all… for you?

Gelato guides you to sit down on the mattress, wrapping a blanket around you and fluffing up a pillow as though trying to get you to lie down. As he does so, you’re vaguely aware of Sorbet slotting your chain back into the wall and locking it in place. He looks you up and down again, for a moment seeming to fixate on the stream of tears that run down your cheeks.

“I’m going to go for a minute now. I’ll come back with something to help you sleep. Is that okay, hmm?”

You nod weakly. Honestly, you’re so insanely terrified right now, that falling asleep truly sounds like the better option even if it renders you at their mercy. Sorbet adjusts the blanket around you.

“Alright, sit tight sweetheart. I’ll be back in just a moment,” he promises. He leaves you alone with Gelato. For a moment, the second man is quiet, a hint of something in his eyes that looks like sadness. He sits down next to you and rubs your fingers.

“I’ll stay with you until he comes back, okay?” he offers. You give a quiet hum of acknowledgement, staring straight ahead as your mind starts to dissociate. “It’s really nothing to worry about,” Gelato says. “Just a tiny prick in your arm and then you fall asleep in a few minutes. You’ve done it before, anyway, and we won’t give you so much this time.”

You don’t answer him. He goes still for a little, perhaps unsure of what to say, then pulls you in close against his shoulder. “You’re wonderful,” he tells you.

“Why are you doing this?” you ask him faintly.

“Because we love you.”

“Why?” you implore him. Before he can answer that you fall into renewed tears. Gelato’s voice seems to fade away from you as he frantically tries to calm you. You shut your eyes and hope for this to end. Whatever this is. You’re scared, and you just want to go home. You just want to stop this feeling of fear.

#sorbet and gelato #sorbet and gelato x reader #needles cw #drugs cw #yandere cw

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cherrybombwritesstuff · 4 years

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Infiltration

My Piece for the Citrus Dome Collab featuring Villain!Hawks :D

Rating: Explicit

Characters: Hawks/ Keigo Takami

Word Count: 6.5k

Warnings: Kidnapping, Light Bondage, Sub/Dom Dynamics

The night was hot as hell. Strands of hair stuck to your forehead and sweat tickled your cheeks. Summer humidity was bad enough and it was near unbearable to stand while you were stuffed inside a ventilation shaft. Despite its dilapidated state, the old hospital had been locked down tighter than Tartarus. Iron bars at every window, thick, new padlocks with hefty chains strewn across every door. It had taken a while to map out the internal workings of the building and even now with every precaution you had taken, you still prayed your target was blissfully unaware that the entry to the airways could indeed be silently pried open and, were actually big enough for you to fit; as long as you remained stealthy enough. At some points the rusted metal had groaned under your weight, forcing your heart into your throat as you froze and waited. Your target wasn’t due here just yet, in fact he wasn’t due for another hour or so. Patience would reward you on this job, since Hawks was damn near impossible to sneak up on. You would wait as long as it took. Arriving later would run the risk of being seen either by him or some other lackey at his disposal. You would wait, no matter how damned uncomfortable it was or how much you craved a cleansing shower when all of this was said and done.

Minutes ticked by like hours. The only thing worse than the thick air was the encompassing darkness. Well that, or the fuzzy layer of dust that coated the surface of the shaft as well as your clothes. At least it wasn’t your hero outfit, that would have been too recognisable. Every movement through the air ducts had been measured, care taken not to disturb the dirt and knock it into your nose. It was strenuous and your muscles were already aching, but if you managed to obtain the intel you needed, all of this nonsense would be so very worth it. Slowly, gently you adjusted your legs to ease the dull ache forming in them. It would all be worth it, it had to be. A few months back your agency had been informed that Hawks had gone rogue. His double agent activities had been completely hidden from the public, as well as most of the heroes working in the area. Higher ups stuffed in expensive suits were mopping their brows as they revealed the situation. Keigo’s abilities we’re too good, he was the number two hero and they refused to believe he had been captured. The only other reason he would stop all communication was defection. It seemed far fetched to you, but not impossible.

Your breath caught in your throat as your vision suddenly flooded with dull light. Through the thin grating before you, slots of sickly yellow illuminated the cramped space, revealing just how grimy it was and you didn’t wanna think about the metres of muck you’d just crawled through. Heavy double doors swung open in the room beneath you. After all your tracking, shaking down informants and crappy civilian disguises to map out Hawk’s movements, the bastard had deviated his schedule and arrived much earlier than anticipated. That flush of crimson feathers was a dead giveaway as he sauntered over to a desk and took a seat at his leisure. Strangely, he was alone. Adrenaline was rushing through your veins as you peered through the grating from your hidden perch. Tailing this man had been near impossible. Everybody was tightlipped about the whole affair, either through fear or loyalty. Thankfully, the application of alcohol in a seedy, underground bar finally loosened the tongue of a low ranking villain , that and your favourite little black dress. All he gave you was a slurred complaint of his newest colleague and how the “young featherbrained upstart” didn’t know his place.

Hawks breathed out a languid sigh, propping his booted feet onto the desk as he stretched his arms above his head as though he’d just come home from his daily nine to five job. After following the movements of the loudmouth villain, you’d been able to tail the number two hero after a brief meeting. He hadn’t been an easy mark, but at the very least you had a feasible time table for a few evenings out of the week. He always came to this abandoned hospital as a sort of base of operations and up until now, he hadn’t been alone. Your muscles tensed as you continued to watch him, waiting for others to show up, for something tangible to happen that you could record and report back with. After moments of sweet nothing, he pushed himself away from the desk, chair legs screeching across the cracked floor as he gave himself enough room to stand. His wings spread in another stretch with an impressive span that almost hit wall to wall. They shuddered, feathers bristling before he tucked them close to his back once again and started removing his jacket.

At this point you couldn’t blame him, the heat was intolerable regardless of what tiny space you just so happened to be crammed in. That black shirt beneath clung to his skin, tight and form fitted to every curve and bump of his lean muscle. There was no avoiding it; the man was damned beautiful, though you internally kicked yourself for such a thought while you were on a mission. Bringing your focus back to your target proved difficult however when he took hold of the bottom of his shirt and started to lift. Your mouth was cotton dry, even at this angle you could see his firm abdominals as they were slowly revealed. You almost forgot to swallow, biting your lip hard enough to bruise it. Heat was rising, threatening to make you boil beneath your skin. Your stomach felt like it was twisting your guts and you had to grit your teeth to keep your body from twitching. Was this really ok? Granted you were here to spy on the hero but this seemed to take it a step too far. For a second you shut your eyes, carefully wiping your brow before forcing your attention back to Hawks who was now shirtless.

Just as you resigned yourself to your fate, a light tingle fluttered against the back of your neck. You ignored it, brushing off the feeling to remain still. Hawks spread his wings, flapping them as he stood to create a light pulse of air to rush through the grate you were looking through. Dust curled upwards and you felt your nose tickle and your eyes itch. He couldn’t have done that on purpose, he couldn’t have detected you in here just yet. Nose pinched and eyelids fluttering the tears away, you kept quiet and still, until that crawling sensation returned to the back of your neck. It was too firm to be sweat and it couldn’t have been your hair. Nausea swirled in your stomach at the thought of an insect exploring your skin. Gently you reached behind you, especially careful not to shift your weight as you reached for the offending creature. Your eyes bulged in their sockets as your fingertips brushed against a row of soft fronds. Fear swelled in your throat too thick to swallow. Instinctively you snatched and the second your fist curled around the object, you recognised the shape. Still you brought it to the light, dread clawing at your skin as you confirmed the crimson red feather between your fingers.

“Enjoying the show?”

The cocky drawl of his voice had you clenching your jaw. He knew you were here, he knew exactly where you were thanks to that blasted feather. The mission was over; now you were the target. There was no time to reason or bargain, you were dealing with a traitor who just so happened to be one of the strongest heroes in Japan. Golden eyes were now fully focused in your direction, though he couldn’t see you through the metal. His wings shuddered, opening fully before dozens of feathers released around him and pointed straight up. Time to run. Employing your quirk, you lashed yourself to the side of the vent behind you. You moved quickly, drawn to the surface like a magnet until you hit it with both feet. Feathers ripped through the airway and followed your lead, giving you no time to waste. Adjusting your position, you lashed yourself to the next side, effectively reversing back out of the shafts at a frantic speed. Finally you were able to point your feet up and bust back out onto the roof. The weaving vents helped in slowing down the feathers, but you had no doubt they were still following behind. Landing with a clumsy roll, you righted yourself and sprinted to the edge of the hospital.

The breeze was a relief as you focused on the side of another building, the force of your quirk pulling your body towards it as though you’d been thrown. Your quirk had been difficult to master, often it would send you hurtling across a room with no control. Now you could switch it off and on at will, using it to lash yourself to an object as long as it was enough to support your weight. It allowed you to clear impossible distances in one jump, hopefully tonight it would allow you to shake off your pursuer. The city flashed by you in a blur as you picked up speed, rocketing from building to building. You twisted your body, chancing a look behind you. Hawks was following your movements quickly, beating his powerful wings to close the distance. The cocky bastard even had time to put his jacket back on before he gave chase. He would catch you if you continued like this, if not him then the horde of feathers that were also headed your way. It was obvious from his recent activity that Hawks didn’t want to be seen, so you had to bring this pursuit within the view of the public.

Midway through your leap, you cancelled out your quirk and allowed yourself to freefall. Turning your head slightly, you couldn’t resist but throw a mock salute at the winged hero. Though he was a fair distance away, you could have sworn you could see a smirk splitting his face. You dropped between vast blocks of concrete. Before you fell too low, you reached out with your quirk once again and shot your way to the side of an office building. The chase was far from over and despite the stakes, a part of you was enjoying the thrill. You zipped through the city, lashing yourself from structure to structure. Hawks likely wouldn’t follow you himself, but there was a chance his feathers would. Charging through the twists and turns of the city at full speed was rapidly draining your energy. Limbs burned with promises of aches and pain for days to come after this. It didn’t matter though, all you had to do was retreat far enough in one burst then report back to your agency. Your lungs were burning by the time you made it to a dark corner of the city, a quiet area you seldom came to. You let yourself drop, utilising a weak pull of your quirk to drop yourself down and continue on foot.

After rushing into an alley, you finally stopped to check your surroundings. No sign of feathers, no sign of Hawks. For a precaution you gave it a few moments before you allowed yourself to breathe a sigh of relief. Your body ached, covered in a sheen of sticky sweat and who knows what else from the dusty air ducts. As you stripped your kevlar, you tapped your communicator and waited for a reply.

“Hey, I uh hit a snag.” you panted, leaning against the wall for support.

“So I can see, why the sudden escape?” Command had been tracking your movements, though you had to wonder if that had compromised you somehow.

Strictly for rescue they said, you had no reason to argue against it.

“He knew I was there. More than that, he knew I was going to be there ahead of time. The second he arrived he was searching for me.” you explained, sweeping hair from your forehead.

“I see. Are you safe?”

At this point you could only make the assumption that you were. You didn’t think Hawks would risk being seen, not after he’d tried so hard to stay off the radar.

“I’m pretty sure I lost him. Populated area, he won’t want to be seen here. He’s too easily recognised.” you replied, scoping out the buildings nearby.

“He saw my quirk though, probably knows who I am…”

Silence fell from the other line before you heard an exasperated sigh.

“Then we’ll secure your home. I’ll send an escort to pick you up from this hotel, check in and get some rest while you’re waiting.”

You expected as much. Though the thought of Villain lackeys invading your personal space made you sick to your stomach.

“Thanks… I’ll head over there now.”

After the adrenaline filtered out of your system you were left with a lead weight in your gut. The hotel location fed through on your watch and you trudged in it’s direction, limbs tingling and heavy from fatigue. The mission had failed and you had been revealed to the enemy, what a night…

The hotel was pretty basic, not that it mattered. After checking in you had only one thing on your mind, a hot, soothing shower. Even stripping off your clothes was a chore, peeling them from your wet skin, they were left to fall into a heap, kevlar and all. Cooling water hit your flesh like a cleansing wash over your body. A low moan escaped you as you stood beneath the flow, gently covering the entirety of your tired form. Muscled relaxed, your tense shoulders finally dropped and you were finally at a comfortable temperature after enduring that damned humidity. Mulling over the events of the day however, had you rubbing your temples in frustration. How did he know? That wolfish grin stuck in your mind like a splinter. Followed by the image of Hawks casually stripping before your eyes. Maybe you could at least take that as a consolation prize, it was a damned pleasing sight after all. You were almost disappointed that he hadn’t carried the charade on a little longer, given himself enough time to drop those trousers as well.

Mentally you shook yourself, attempting to push the thought out of your head but the more you tried, the deeper it was planted. Your hands roamed your body as you rinsed away the last of the shower gel. The thought of those gold, piercing eyes staring straight into yours sent pleasant tingles beneath your skin. You bit your lip before releasing a breath you didn’t even know you were holding before parting your legs. The mission failed, there was no harm in cheering yourself up a little, was there? The instant your fingers slipped between your thighs you began to feel relief from the building ache. Your breath hitched as you allowed your fingertips to roam the length of your folds before gently circling your already swollen clit. There was no stifling the mewl that drifted from your open mouth. His chiseled face, that cocky smile and that sculpted body were all you could see. You yearned to touch him, flutter your fingertips against his chest, along the ridges of his abs and further still. You wanted to see him above you, caging you in with those powerful arms. Fingers slipped between your slick petals, easily sliding inside you and you sighed in pleasure. Doing this to yourself over a suspected villain no less, was different. The danger, the rush you associated with him only made your body increase in sensitivity and you just couldn’t keep yourself quiet.

“Fuck…” you breathed, leaning against the cool tiling of the shower.

You released a shaky breath, your fingers pulsing faster and faster at the thought of that beautiful man fucking you into next week.

“H-Hawks…”

Whispering his name only heightened the rush. With your free hand you reached for your breast, teasing and rolling your swollen nipple between your fingers.

“Hawks… fuck me Hawks…” you whimpered a little louder for your own benefit.

“Maybe if you ask nicely…”

The world stopped. Your body froze in place. That voice was unmistakable. That outline of a winged man waiting beyond the translucent shower curtain could only belong to one person.

“Oh...shit.” was all you could muster as you pulled your fingers out.

The bathroom became silent once you turned off the water, aside from a few nervous drips that seemed to emulate your pounding heartbeat.

“I’ll save you some face, little bird.” he told you and you could hear the insufferable grin in his voice.

“You can put this on before we have a little...chat.”

He stepped towards the shower, slipping the bathrobe provided by the hotel past the curtain while the rest of him remained respectfully hidden. What choice did you have but to take it? Gingerly you accepted the robe, slipping it over your naked form and gaining back at least a little dignity. Once the belt was tied securely, the curtain was pulled back to reveal your target, free hand settled on his hips.

“Pardon the phrase but, if you come quietly it’ll make it easier on the both of us.”

His tone was almost sickeningly pleasant and you could feel heat rushing to your cheeks. He offered his hand to you, which understandably you were very hesitant to take. His smile faded, golden eyes flashing dangerously every second that lurched by.

“I don’t have time for this.” he said bluntly.

Some of his larger feathers detached, floating to his sides to point directly at your throat. You lifted your head and backed away, knowing just how deadly these crimson blades could be.

“If you’re gonna be stubborn about it, you can take a nap.”

Before you could react, Hawks pulled a small capsule from his pocket and flicked it straight at you. Before it made impact, it split in two and it’s contents and burst into a small cloud of fine powder. You flinched and turned your head but it made no difference. The powder hit your nostrils and the effect was almost instant. Your head felt heavy as it swayed, your legs buckling as you were overwhelmed by a sickening dizziness. Darkness enveloped the corners of your vision as you fell forward, caught by a pair of strong arms before everything faded to black.

The ground was cold beneath your bare feet. Your head lolled back in your sleepy haze. A firm grip bruised your wrist until your arms were locked into place above your head. Once the hold was released, you slumped to your knees and landed clumsily on a floor of concrete. Slowly your senses sharpened. A musty, damp scent filled your nose. The sticky humidity of the night air was chased away by the chill of your wet hair. Your limbs were still weak, bones as useful as jelly as your eyelids fluttered open. The light was dim and it took a while for your eyes to adjust. Warm fingertips slid against your jaw, gently lifting your head as a bottle of water was placed against your parted lips.

“Drink up little bird, don’t want you getting sick on me now…”

His voice could have been soothing in the right setting. But Hawks wasn’t playing the part of a hero anymore.

“How considerate…” you mumbled, blurred vision slowly climbing back to normalcy.

He chuckled, dragging a steel chair to sit across backwards.

“Still got that smart mouth even now... does that make you gutsy, or stupid?”

Tugging at your wrists proved worthless. The rope was secured tight, fastened neatly around both arms yet surprisingly it wasn’t uncomfortable.

“Which one gets me outta here alive?” you replied back, a weak smile forming on your lips.

He clicked his teeth, wings folding neatly behind him as he rest his chin on his forearms.

“Oh does it have to be so final? I just wanted to ask you some questions…”

He sounded eerily calm, as though he hadn’t just kidnapped a pro hero and tied them up in a grungy warehouse. You shifted your weight, the drowsy feeling now dissolved into irritating tingles throughout your arms and legs.

“My name is (y/n), I like long walks on the beach if you wanna know my star sign is-”

A bark of laughter cut you off.

“Funny little bird, aren’t you?” he said between giggling, “But the sooner you comply, the quicker we can get outta here… so let’s get serious…”

His tone lowered, his gaze fixed with those dangerous golden orbs locked with yours. Casually he plucked out a feather, idly twirling between his fingers.

“I already know your agency, figured that much out when I saw your quirk.”

Your lips pressed together in a tight line. If Hawks was working with the Villains now, did that mean he could focus their attention on you? A shudder danced up your spine and you weren’t sure if it was due to the cold, or the way Hawks was looking you up and down, like a predator cornering it’s wounded prey.

“But I wanna know who put you on this mission, which suit gave the order to spy on me?”

It was a simple enough question, too bad you didn’t have a decent answer for him. Averting your gaze, you chewed your bottom lip as you tried to access the situation. Part of you wanted to believe Hawks hadn’t quite crossed over to the other side, that he wouldn’t harm you even if you didn’t obey him. He clicked his teeth and released the feather.

“C’mon now little bird, don’t force my hand here…” he grunted.

You watched as the scarlet blade floated closer, inching it’s way nearer to your face. In a split second more had joined of various sizes, all pointed at your prone body.

“I’m sure you know these feathers aren’t gonna tickle, so how about you tell me what I need to know…”

His face had darkened, his grip on the back of the chair tightened making it creak.

“I… I don’t know. I wasn’t there for the meeting, I was just asked to take this on by my usual team…” you meekly replied, gauging his face for some sort of reaction.

He simply stared for a moment before exhaling a breath he’d apparently been holding. Yet the feathers remained pointed at you.

“Fine. Then what were your orders?”

He sighed out that last question. In the low light you could just about see dark circles resting beneath both eyes. His hair was in it’s usual shaggy style, flopping over his brow in strands that you wanted to smooth back in spite of yourself. Yet there were more than a few fly aways, something a little more unkempt to what you were used to seeing.

“Uh, you want me to recount the entire briefing?” you bit back with a raised eyebrow.

The chair screeched as he shoved it away, stepping clear of it to close the gap between you and crouch down to your level. At this proximity you could smell his cologne, along with another scent reminiscent of baked goods. Even now, tied up with feather blades inches away from cutting your flesh, you could feel the heat at your core returning. He said nothing, instead letting his deadpan expression make the threats for him.

“L-look I… I don’t have any details. You stopped contact with the Heroes, they sent somebody to check on you.”

It was true to a point. You weren’t entirely sure what else he needed to hear, but you stopped searching for extras when that smile slowly reappeared on his handsome face.

“They sent you. A fresh faced new hero to catch me in the act. They sent you after the number two hero expecting a job well done?”

His feathers drooped, turning away from you before they fit back into his wings as he stretched them out to accommodate. His head dropped, fingers pinching his brow in frustration. His words stung. It was true you were a relatively new hero, but you had still made it into a prestigious agency. Hawks rubbed his eyes before raising his gaze back up to meet yours.

“Oh little bird don’t give me that face, you’ll break my heart.”

He reached out, tucking wayward hair back behind your ear. His fingertips barely grazed your skin, yet the effect was powerful. Gooseflesh erupted down your arms and a tingling shiver rattled your limbs.

“Honestly I was impressed. You’re scarily good at covering your tracks. The only problem is when you find a mark with a big mouth, the information goes both ways.” he grinned.

You flashed back to your nights at the bar. The suited man you had flirted relentlessly with for just a hint of a trail must have mentioned you to his colleagues. As careful as you had been in your line of questioning, it stood to reason that Hawks would have been overly cautious about who had his name in their mouth. Your head dropped a little, a defeated smile on your face.

“I guess the gamble didn’t quite pay off…” you lamented, shifting your legs and pressing your thighs together.

He was still close, close enough to feel the warmth of his skin even when he wasn’t directly touching you.

“That’s the way it goes sometimes… Though I have to say I’m disappointed I didn’t get to see the short, black number he described… what was it he said exactly? That it left nothing to the imagination?”

Oh now he looked damned pleased with himself. That wolfish grin urged you to shuffle back against the wall as much as you could, not that you could go any further. Blood rushed to your cheeks and your eyes were wide and unblinking. THis cocky bastard was flirting.

“W-well I don’t see how you can complain given you caught me in my birthday suit!”

The words came out of your mouth before your brain could catch up and stop you. He caught you alright, he caught you two fingers deep and calling out his damned name and you just reminded him of that. He held up his hand, eyes sparkling in amusement.

“Ah no, I saw your silhouette. I wouldn’t peek on a lady taking a shower, I’m not some sort of pervert…”

Something about his crooked smile sparked rebellion. You pulled at your ropes and moved closer to him.

“Oh? Then what was with that mini strip show at the hospital?”

Your voice wavered a little more than you wanted it to. Hawks’s wings twitched and he turned his head to the side.

“Did you enjoy the view, little bird?”

His voice spilled from him like liquid velvet. Your breath hitched, heart drumming obnoxiously against your chest and he was getting closer.

“Is this how I’ll get my answers from you? With honey instead of vinegar…”

He was an inch away. If your hands weren’t bound you could have touched him so easily. He rocked onto his knees, his fingers curled beneath your chin to keep you still.

“Why don’t we recreate that little fantasy you were having at the hotel…”

His voice was a whisper before his lips pressed against yours. His mouth was hot, demanding and suffocating, everything you imagined it would be. You whimpered against him, wide eyes shutting as you dropped your defenses and fell into his movements.

“What a pretty sound…” he growled, breaking the kiss with a bite on your bottom lip. “I wanna hear more…”

You gasped as he trailed a path of kisses along your jawline, locks of hair tickling your face as he closed in on your sensitive neck. Teeth grazing your skin left you breathless and wanting. Fingertips trailed up your exposed thigh, giving it a firm squeeze as his lips and tongue continued to toy with you.

“Ah-Hawks…” you breathed, voice shamelessly laden with lust.

He hummed as he sucked your flesh, biting down softly.

“D-did you betray the heroes? Are you… are you really working with the Villains?”

His mouth stilled, leaving a soft kiss behind before he pulled back to meet your gaze.

“If I say yes, will you want me to stop?” he asked simply, hand resting on your leg.

The hero side of you screamed internally. You couldn’t sleep with a goddamned traitor, you were supposed to be part of the solution. A role model, a shining light in the dark. Yet for weeks on end this man had occupied your thoughts. You had gone to extreme lengths to find him, reading up about every little detail you could to get to know him. It had become something of an obsession, the drive to succeed and impress your agency transformed into figuring out the mystery that was Keigo. And now he had you captured and the only feeling that was clear in the confusion was the heat thrumming from your core.

“..No, I don’t want you to stop…” you admitted, falling further into the pit.

His feathers bristled, audibly rustling before they settled once again. His shoulders dropped, as though tension had been released.

“Good… cause I really didn’t want to.”

He captured your mouth again, kissing you without restraint. His hands slipped beneath your thighs and suddenly you were lifted as he stood. Your legs wrapped around his waist instinctively. The rope binding you was slack yet you were still restrained, pushed up against the wall and trapped between it and the muscular body pressing your front. He took your arms and looped them around his neck, ensuring you were both trapped with each other.

“You’re fuckin’ beautiful, you know that?” he growled as he bit your neck, sucking and bruising it, marking you as his.

“You’re not the only one who’s been spying little bird…”

You wanted to respond, hell you would have if your head wasn’t swimming in lust as though it was the only thing that mattered. One arm was all he needed to hold you steady, while the other slipped between you and untied the belt to your gown.

“Once I knew you were tailing me, I had to know more.”

The robe fell open, exposing you completely to him. He took his sweet time, fingertips trailing a line between your breasts.

“You’re a hardworking hero… throwing yourself at danger whenever you can…”

Your mouth fell open in a needy mewl as he took hold of your breast and ran his thumb over your nipple.

“Y-you… you were watching me?” you moaned.

He closed his lips over the swollen bud, tongue circling and flicking and teasing. Your hips rolled against him and he groaned against your skin as you pressed against his painfully hard cock that was still trapped in his clothes. He released your nipple with a gentle bite.

“A little… but it was enough.”

He drifted lower, drawing a light pattern on your tummy, looping your hip bone before finally slipping between your wide open legs. He sucked his teeth as he gently slid a finger tip over your clit and down to your swollen, silken petals.

“Fffffuck… you’re so wet for me little bird.”

He growled at your ear, slowly toying with your slick flesh. You threw your head back and moaned without restraint, shifting your hips in an attempt for more much needed friction.

“E-enough f-for what?” you managed to ask, lips trembling as you spoke.

His hand stilled and he gave you a soft kiss before he plunged two of his long fingers inside you.

“Enough for me to know I fucking wanted you…”

You practically squealed, your soaking wet hole welcoming him with ease. He pressed upwards, curling his finger against that soft, spongy flesh he knew would drive you crazy.

“Damn… this pussy feels good little bird, so fuckin’ tight…”

He added a second finger and fucked you with them, pumping in and out of you vigorously. You barely noticed when he let you go with his other arm given how hard you were clinging to him. He unzipped his fly and popped the button, his belt jingling as he let it fall with the waistband of his pants. Your breath came in short, sharp gasps as you moved with his rhythm, desperate for more, needing to be filled.

“Fuck! H-Hawks… please!”

So ready for him it hurt, a tingling ache that could only be sated by him. He shoved his mouth against yours, muffling your desperate mewls.

“You know what I’m waiting for baby… say it again for me, I need to hear it…”

He was just as breathless as you, his cheeks and ears tinged a bright pink.

“Fuck me, Hawks… please? Oh god fuck me Hawks!”

He cursed like a sailor, snarling as he grabbed your hips squeezing hard enough to leave bruises.

“Good girl…” was all he could manage before fully sheathing himself within your tight entrance.

He took a second to adjust, groaning against your neck as though he felt the same sense of relief that you did. Locked together, holding on tight as you could and your toes curled when he shifted his hips and finally started to thrust.

“Oh fuck… little bird you feel better than I imagined… fuuuuck…”

Your cries echoed throughout the warehouse. The huge space filled with the noise of your clashing flesh. He filled you so well, hitting every sensitive spot inside you and you could feel your core tighten with pleasure, building up to that explosive release you so desperately needed.

“Yeah baby, keep makin’ those sounds… I fuckin’ live for them…”

His hair was splayed in locks over his face and his forehead was shiny with sweat. He grit his teeth, face contorted with animalistic pleasure and you couldn’t help but think that he was more beautiful than ever. With your arms still clasped around his neck, you pulled him into a kiss, tongue hungrily invading his mouth as he continued to fuck you up against the wall.

“K-Keigo… oh god…”

He grunted against you, pushing himself deeper inside. Your thighs trembled as they gripped his slim waist.

“What is it little bird… you wanna cum for me?”

His teeth raked along the shell of your ear, his voice vibrating against it.

“Then start fucking begging…”

Your voice collapsed into a needy whine. His demands simultaneously frustrated and exhilarated you, enhancing every touch, every thrust of his hips and lick of his tongue. He owned you in this moment and god you wouldn’t have it any other way.

“P-please… Keigo please I need it!”

Your eyes brimmed with unshed tears as the build slowed along with his pace. He filled you to the hilt, only to slowly retract, making you jerk your hips for more friction.

“Please make me cum… Please make me cum Keigo!”

He groaned low in his chest, kissing your ear before he adjusted his position.

“Ooohh that’s it, good girl… such a fucking good girl.”

His arm slipped between you, his thumb gently pressing against that swollen pearl of nerves. He circled it, moving it in rhythm with his powerful trusts. Heat spread from your core, like flames licking at your skin. Your limbs were trembling as he pulled you to the brink, you couldn’t think and you could barely breathe as he fucked you closer and closer to that freeing release you were both craving.

“Fuck little bird… fuck I’m gonna…”

You cried out his name, morals thoroughly abandoned as you thanked him for every touch, every thrust he gave to you. Darkness teased at the corners of your vision, threatening to pull you under as waves of white, hot pleasure rocked through your body. Your grip around him tightened, as did his around you and he continued to fuck you hard through your climax. It didn’t take much for him to reach his own, mouth hanging open as he moaned your name, painting the walls of your cunt with thick, streams of cum. His forearm crashed against the wall, ensuring he didn’t crush you when he slumped forward, his forehead resting gently against yours as you both panted for air. He let loose a breathy chuckle as he carefully pulled himself out.

“That did it for you huh? You wanted to get nasty and fuck a Villain?” he breathed, unhooking your tired arms from around his neck.

Carefully he lowered your legs, allowing you to stand with his assistance.

“No… just you.”

Your answer seemed to catch him off guard. Arrogance drained from his features and was replaced by a genuine, almost shy smile. Using the wall for support, you wrapped yourself back up in the robe. But still your legs were bare and your feet were pressed against a relentlessly cold floor, sending an unwelcome shiver up your spine. Hawks’ mouth pressed into a tight line as he buckled himself back up again.

“Come here little bird…”

This time you took his hand, letting him turn you around and hold you from behind. His wings spread, wrapping around the both of you in a welcomingly soft cocoon. You hummed as you felt their warmth, snuggling a little closer in his arms.

“You know… the Heroes Association sent you as bait.” he began, his mouth moving against your scalp.

“They got no proof I’ve done anything wrong, not yet. So they sent a naive little hero after me… hoping I would be pushed into doing something desperate to cover my tracks…”

You turned your head, catching his tired eyes with yours.

“Are you doing something wrong Hawks?”

The wings around you shivered and a breeze of air ruffled your hair as he sighed above you.

“There’s… there’s something I have to do and… the Villains can help me do that.”

His hands seemed to tense up against you as he waited for your response.

“And the heroes can’t?”

His hands met your waist and he turned you to face him, keeping his wings in place.

“The heroes are the problem little bird.”

His knuckles grazed your cheekbone and for once you saw no trace of that trademark confidence in his face.

“I’m tired of those untouchable bastards pulling the strings and watching us puppets dance.”

Something about him was so sincere, so vulnerable that you couldn’t find it in yourself to call him a liar. There had been rumors and whisperings since you started getting scouted, corruption at the top of the chain. Maybe that’s what he was referring to.

“Then… does that mean you won’t accept help from a hero anymore?”

He huffed a stifled laugh, kissing you softly on your nose.

“That depends on the hero. Maybe I could be persuaded…”

#bnha hawks #bnha fanfiction #bnha #mha #villain!hawks #keigo takami

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dulcidyne · 7 years

Text

Experiments in Diplomacy: Inspecting [6/?]

//Jaal x Ryder // Humor. Romance. SFW // Me:A Spoilers// Catch up on Ao3

Good in theory . Her new life motto. If there’s a tattoo parlor in Kadara port (and why wouldn’t there be? Every seedy underbelly of the galaxy needs an equally seedy tattoo parlor), she’s going to get it embossed across her forehead. Double shielding? Good in theory. In execution, however…

Se-ah can’t remember if she washed her hair already, so she upends the Vetra-procured, limited-edition ‘Blasto Saves Christmas’ novelty shampoo bottle and vivid, gelatinous pink goops out onto her palm. She doesn’t know if the brand-marketing geniuses had ‘irradiated slime’ in mind when they rolled this product out, or if something terribly wrong happened during 600 years of dark space, but she doesn’t care and lathers it into her hair anyway. It doesn’t burn and it smells decent so long as you happen to enjoy the scent of congealed Tupari sports drink, which she does.

SAM tried to warn her. It wasn’t just the spatial issue of enclosing one kinetic shield within another on that scale, although that was a two-day migraine for her and Jaal, it was the power draw . Shields draw a huge amount from her hardsuit’s power cells. And while the omni-tool interface in her armor is wired on a separate circuit to avoid--

Pausing, she examines the shampoo bottle in her hand. Did she wash her hair already? A shower sounded like a good alternative to shouting at Margaret when the last power cycling trial turned up the same results as all the other ones before. Bad results, ‘try this in the field and you’ll short out your shields’ results. But while water a few degrees below scalding is doing wonders for her healing injuries, what she really needs is some sleep.

Sleep. Another ‘good in theory’ idea.

Frustrated, she rips up the rest of a half-peeled away ‘Sale!’ sticker from Blasto’s face (er...the hanar equivalent of a face) printed onto the front of the bottle.

“This one knows if you’ve been bad or good,” she reads aloud from the quote bubble no longer covered by the sticker.

As far as cinematic masterpieces go, ‘Blasto Saves Christmas’ is criminally underrated no matter what Liam says. How could anyone hate the movie that gave the galaxy the song ‘This one saw it’s genetic progenitor enkindling Santa Claus’ ? And elcor Santa. Jollily: Ho. Ho. Ho.

She slumps against the shower wall and watches ribbons of pink water vortex around the drain. Nothing ever goes the way it should.

Beneath the crisply folded clothing just outside the shower, something begins to beep.

“Pathfinder, workbench telemetry is indicating abnormal readings from sensors in the containment enclosures.”

“Oh, so that isn’t one of those ‘everything is fine’ alarms then?” she deadpans, her thumping pulse freefalling into her stomach.

Like all awe-inspiring things, Mags is as beautiful as she is deadly. At the core of her circuits and wires is a multi-million credit eezo heart paired to a thermionic converter. Both are triple shielded in their own sealed enclosures--or are supposed be, at any rate.

Puddling water all over the place, she snatches up her beeping omni-tool and opens Maggie’s remote access. Warnings pop up, rapid fire, from the internal ozone sensors. Her pulse wanders back up to her chest where it belongs.

“Eezo containment is unaffected. I suspect there has been a failure in the ozone scrubbers for the thermionic converter. Accumulated O3 concentrations are approximately 510% above normal in the containment enclosure,” SAM says.

Not eezo. But ozone is no joke either. While it’s great up in the stratosphere, crammed into a tiny room with mediocre ventilation, it’s a whole other animal. One with a taste for certain carbon bonds--like the ones in lung tissue or in rubber seals. Mags pumps out a staggering amount of the stuff during operation. Without scrubbers and the sealed enclosures, she could kill every person and machine in the lab.

“I’ll need to shut her off before I can take a look at what’s wrong. Maybe the catalyst is depleted already and we just need to replace the cartridge.”

Se-ah begins remote shutdown commands, typing in an override to get past the twenty versions of the question ‘But are you sure you want to initiate shutdown processes?’. In-between override commands and obnoxious prompts, she yanks her shirt down over her dripping hair and pulls on her Initiative-issued training shorts. Both cling, plastering over skin until splotches of water tie-dye wet shadows across the fabric.

“Hang in there Mags,” she mutters before beelining for the tech-lab at a steady clip.

She collides into Jaal as soon as the door opens. Reflexively, he grips her by the elbow with a massive hand before she can fall back onto her rear. Her breath hitches while the persistent ache in her chest fusions unbearable heat. She does her best to ignore it. A difficult task when half her sleep-deprived focus is parsing out the scent he’s wearing today into Milky Way equivalents. It’s bright and brisk; night-blooming cereus blossoms, pale as moonlight and tipped in the cold starlight on the East Face of Mt. Whitney--her first real climb.

He must’ve woken up when she went to shower because he’s already dressed in his armor and holding a datapad that is currently slipping out of his grasp. Repositioning it before it can tumble to the ground, he smiles at her as if she’s a gift the universe has left on his doorstep. “Ah, Ryder, good. I was just about to go looking for you. Your Maggie has been beeping, very insistently, and--”

Brow furrowing, he releases her elbow and reaches out and catch a water droplet beading off her earlobe. “You’re wet.”

Se-ah steps back in the guise of looking him over to confirm that she’s left a damp print behind in the fabric of his rofjinn. “And now, so are you--sorry about that.”

Wincing, she tries to pat away the moisture even though the gesture is absolutely useless without a towel. With a pained smile, she withdraws her hands and adds, “And sorry about the alarm waking you up.”

“The fabric is capable of enduring a little water. It would make a poor garment if it could not. And I was already awake, there is no need to apologize.” The datapad in his hand slips down a few centimeters again and she’s close enough to glimpse a portion of the screen no longer obscured by his thumb. It doesn’t look technical. A personal letter maybe?

“Were you writing home?”

“Ah, no. I am not.” Jaal directs half his answer down to the decking when he notices that she does not have shoes on. Has he never seen human feet before? She wiggles her toes at him.

Further elaboration isn’t coming. She smothers the impulse to ask for it. Maggie. She’s here to take a look at Maggie, not pry into Jaal’s personal communications. And definitely not to ask the heart-racing question clamoring in the back of her mind. Who then? Someone special? Back to business, she offers a nod before making her way past his broad frame. Jaal follows her back into the lab, reabsorbed with his mysterious missive.

Maggie is as sullen and uncommunicative as a kid sent to time-out for misbehavior. Displays dark, mass effect fields vanished, no hums or whirs, beeps or chimes. It’s like she’s giving her the silent treatment, turning a metal shoulder with a sulky ‘hmph’. Se-ah frowns, running a hand over the glossy top. No resonant hum meets her fingertips.

“Pathfinder, you will be able to access the scrubber via the panel located near the floor on the side closest to the bulkhead. It is five centimeters to the right of the duct leading to the general ventilation system.” SAM informs her.

Of course it is. Delicately, she goes about leveraging herself down to the decking without straining her injured leg. She manages, with little grace and a lot of jerky, uncontrolled motions, to lie on her side so that she can hook her hands around the corner of the bench and pry open the least-accessible panel ever. The catalyst chamber slides out one centimeter at a time, smelling vaguely of wet stone, and she has to wiggle closer to bring her arm up to scan it.

Only...she doesn’t need to scan it, the chamber slides out all the way and she can see now that half the cartridge slots are empty. Someone’s taken them.

“Did you locate the problem?” Jaal asks, louder than she expected him to be. He’s come to kneel behind her, the datapad still in hand but momentarily forgotten again.

“Not yet,” she hisses, furious. “But when I do, I’m throwing her out the airlock.”

After she gets her cartridges back. Se-ah pushes off the decking into a crouch, too angry to remember the ruptured tendon she’s supposed to rest for at least a few more days. As her thighs flex, ready to spring her up from the deck, wrenching spasms swarm up from her knee. “Ow--fuck. Fuck.”

Somehow, when she crumple-slides back down, she ends up sitting, legs stretched in front of her, with her back against the tech bench. It feels like smacking down on the landing platform all over again--if the landing platform were covered in fire ants. Bright pinpoints fizzle and pop across the backs of her eyelids in time with the cramp. Thudding her head back twice to clear them, she directs a steady stream of profanity up towards the overhead of the compartment while digging her fingernails into her skin to take an edge off the pain with tactile stimulation.

“Let me,” Jaal offers and she nods her assent vigorously, unable to speak through her clenched teeth. Unable to think. The missing cartridges, Maggie, they both slip into the static, forgotten.

Something falls to the ground, a soft ‘whumph’ of displaced air. Eyes still screwed shut, she can’t see what he’s dropped. But she realizes it is his glove when his bare fingers press against the skin of her inner thigh, just above her knee. Electricity hums, a low-frequency vibration rolling mild warmth up over the expanse of fluttering muscle mapped out beneath his fingertips and the base of his palm.

It’s like he’s flipped a switch on the pain. It vanishes before she can blink open her disbelieving eyes. Twitching sarcomeres relax and fall into the pulsing electrical lullaby. Relief precipitates off her lips into a breathy laugh.

“That’s a nice trick.” She watches as his hand smoothes careful circles against her leg.

“While you’re having a conversation with my muscle cells, can you tell them to get their act together before we get to the Nexus tomorrow?” Smile tugging at his lips, he meets her eyes. “Talking to your cells...that’s a different way of looking at bioelectricity.”

“Well that’s what it is, isn’t it? That’s how muscle cells communicate with each other--moving electric charges around. Which is exactly what you’re doing.” She tips a teasing smile at him. “You’re all talking about me aren’t you? About how terrible I am.”

Jaal’s laugh rumbles so loudly, his shoulders quake with mirth. “There are only good things to say about you.”

He says it so earnestly, despite the silliness, and she flushes. His hand stills and an electric pulse ripples out from his palm like a stone skipped over a pond. The voltage must be stronger because it’s warmer and it tickles a bit. Part of her wonders if he’d let her go at him with a multimeter next time he does that.

“Was that a good thing you said just now?”

“It was.” She recognizes his look for what it is. It’s the same face he uses to tell Liam the wrong definitions to things. The face that has Gil worried about his personal winning streak. Inscrutable, with a deceptive hint of innocence. She knows better. He’s messing with her, just waiting for her to play into his hands and ask for further explanation. It would serve him right for her not to give into her own curiosity and derail the joke altogether.

“So…are you going to tell me?”

Ah well, she tried.

Leaning forward, he holds her gaze as he swipes a curled hand beneath the dripping lock of hair that had untucked itself from behind her ear. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees a water droplet catch the light as it slips down over the surface of his glove.

“Of course not.” He looks pretty damn smug. “It was a secret.”

She likes the idea of his secret pressed into her cells for safe-keeping. The thought makes her greedy. She wants more. She wants to collect secrets from him, store them up in her motor synapses like muscle memories.

She wants to give him secrets of her own--intimate ones. The kind only roaming fingers and mouths can find. Stuttered gasps and hitched breath, shivers, trembling thighs and lips bitten full and red. All just for him, for his ears alone.

Desire evaporates off her damp skin like moisture, wicking into the space between them and changing it. The air feels charged and heavy and warm. It shimmers, refracting back mirage images of things that could be if she only reached out and plucked them off the horizon. Not just secrets. Habits. Shared jokes. Shared futures.

His breath stills and for a moment she thinks he can see it too. She thinks he wants it too.

Beneath the palm still on her thigh, a prickle rushes over her bare skin. It stipples the full length of her legs, the lab’s excellent lighting throwing her goosebumps into high relief. Jaal must feel the subtle change because his gaze falters down to her legs. Concern meets fascination. “What’s--Ryder, your skin is changing. ”

“Yeah, it’s not permanent.” She runs a hand over the top of her thigh, brushing against the tips of all the tiny vellus hairs standing on end. “It happens when all these little muscles under our skin contract. It’s kind of funny, they’re completely useless to us now--what we call vestigial.”

“Ah. How are they useless? What are they meant to do?”

“Well, back before our evolutionary ancestors decided to get rid of it, they used to puff up our thick body hair.”

“Hair, like--” He gestures towards the damp lock lying against her cheek.

“Yup, only all over and much shorter. When it puffs up, it makes animals look bigger than they actually are and it also traps air, which is insulating and keeps the animal warm. We lost the hair but we kept the muscles and they still respond to threats and cold.”

“You’re cold?”

“No, I’m fine,” she assures him but a pained look flickers across his face. The electric pulse radiating out from his palm gives an erratic stutter. He must have to concentrate to some extent in order to use the bioelectricity in this way. Apparently, what she said had shattered it.

Guilt swims up in his eyes, which flit away to the datapad he’d set down beside him. “Ryder, if I--”

Threats and cold. The bright little star of emotion inside her feels like it is collapsing in under its own weight and taking her lungs with it. He thinks…

“No, that’s--I mean, there are other things that trigger the response, not just those two things. I mean, I get them all the time when I’m climbing or when I’m listening to beautiful music...”

Or when someone I’m attracted to touches me.

“...no one really knows why. It’s not that beautiful music or incredible views are threatening to me or--”

She’s babbling. If she doesn’t put a stop to it, she’ll go all night. He’s meeting her eyes again and there’s no shocked guilt left so she does them both a favor and just takes a deep breath.

“Maybe...they are,” he says. “Beauty can be terrifying.”

She tries to deflect with a weak laugh. “If that’s the case, I’m a bigger coward than I thought.”

It has the opposite effect. Jaal only grows more serious and frustration with her furrows up in his brow. Fair enough, she’s frustrated with herself too. She is a coward, trying desperately to obscure her own feelings from herself and from him. Because she’s afraid.

“Cowardice and fear are different things. One is shameful, the other is not. Angara are not ashamed to fear beauty. It is an affirming feeling for us, one we cherish. To be in awe is to know something vast and incredible, to be moved beyond the realm of what we know and be lost in beauty. We call it ‘glimpsing the threads’. It is...sacred to us. Isn’t that what you feel when you climb?”

“It is,” she admits. Too little truth given too late. She owes the both of them more than that. But emotional cowardice is a learned habit. One that, until recently, she never thought much about changing. Why would she? It always worked well for her in the past. It worked well for her father. The alternative looked...messier, more contentious, like Scott’s series of heartbreaks.

“I didn’t tell you that...I’m glad you decided to stay.” A small waver works it’s way through her voice. “I should’ve said...before we got to Aya yesterday. I wanted to but the truth is, I was relieved not to have to. But you deserve to know that I am...really happy you’re here.”

Another distinctive electric pulse tingles out from his palm and her goosebumps are back, tracing the path the electrons take from the tip of his fingers to the base of his hand. “That was my thank you,” he tells her, warmth in his eyes.

She smiles and then asks the question still lingering in the periphery of her mind, just out of sight like the datapad. “So who were you writing when I came in? Someone special?”

His eyes don’t leave hers and she can see reflections in them, a hundred shimmering, refracting possibilities.

“Yes. Someone very special.”

She’s standing in front of the Tempest escape pod when SAM’s notification comes.

“Pathfinder. You have new email at your terminal.”

The door is already hissing open and Peebee is standing there, looking at her like she’s lost it.

“Ryder, why the hell are you just standing in front of my door? And why the hell are you grinning? Oh shit...this is about the cartridges, isn’t it? Okay, okay before you do whatever you’re planning, can I just say that I was going to give them back? Ryder...okay, you’re officially freaking me out. Mission accomplished.”

Se-ah spares Peebee a distracted glance. “Oh, yeah, uhm...just...put them back where you found them. I have to--I just need to check my email.”

She’s across the bridge in a handful of elated heartbeats, opening the message from Jaal.

Dearest...

#jaal x ryder #jaal romance #jaal ama darav #me:a spoilers #dulcidyne writes #Se-ah Ryder #Maggie the Tech Bench #Peebee #Featuring: vestigial reflexes!#The hazards of ozone!#Being emotionally honest!

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leofemt · 7 years

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from the top!

part of: lupin ot5 snips. on ao3.

lupin ot5 jazz band/record shop au. will continue probably

"O-kay, stop, stop!" Zenigata yells for the fifth time, smacking his drumsticks together angrily and leaping to his feet. The music tapers off, and he points one stick accusingly at Lupin, in the front, his saxophone dropping from his lips and hanging from his neck.

"Eh?" Lupin blinks. "Pops, that felt pretty good, why'd we stop?"

Zenigata scowls at him.

"If I can't get you to follow a damn beat, I'll lock you in a room with nothing but a metronome for hours." He growls, shoulders nearly shuddering in rage.

Jigen stifles a snort, abandoning his place and dropping down on their torn-up, sinking couch. His trumpet leans against his thigh as he crosses his legs and props them up on the coffee table. Goemon, sensing they're not going to get anything done anytime soon, sits down cross-legged beside him, setting his long, silver flute against his shoulder and folding his arms.

Fujiko rolls her eyes and stands up. Her fingers linger for a moment over familiarly worn black and white keys.

"For the hundredth time, Koichi." She sighs, crossing her arms. "It's jazz. You love jazz, don't you?"

Zenigata pinches his lips.

"Yes..." He trails off, seeming to lose his conviction for a moment before coming back with a glare. "But even jazz has a drummer for a reason! Lupin, you have to follow my pace-"

Lupin lets out a put-upon breath, dropping his head, then peeks back up at the two through his lashes, a cheeky grin beginning to spread across his face.

"Huhu, Pops is getting serious!" He chuckles, but hefts his saxophone again. "I'm not gonna slow down for you, you know. It's all about expanding out horizons, see?"

Zenigata balls his fists. He looks like he's about to jump Lupin, and the other man doesn't help matters by closing the small space of their basement in a few strides, leaning over the drum set to kiss Zenigata teasingly on his cheek, pink with rage.

"You're so frustrating." Zenigata mutters, but his fists unclench, and his face begins to redden for a different reason. Lupin grins and smacks him on the shoulder, leaping back to the front of the dimly-lit room.

At some point, Jigen had started smoking, filling the room with a vague haze and the smell of cheap tobacco- Fujiko coughs and checks to make sure the ventilation is turned on.

"How many times have I told you to stop smoking down here?" She complains. "I like a good cigarette, but yours are foul, and the basement doesn't have windows, you ass. Smoke outside like a normal person."

Goemon huffs in agreement, trying to breathe as little secondhand smoke as possible. Jigen smokes an irrational amount for a brass player, and for a wind player, the tolerance is even lower- he's considered buying a pollution mask.

Lupin laughs aloud. His mirth fills the air between them, and before they know it, everyone's swept up in laughter. Lupin has that kind of effect- as much as Zenigata moans and whines about rhythms and order, Lupin's rhythm is the one they're all caught up in at the end of the day.

~~~~~~

Business is slow.

Goemon sits at the front counter of their record shop- the one the five of them own together. His flute is, as always, nestled against his chest, and his robe is light for summer- the old air conditioning unit in the window cranks away, but he has his doubts as to how much good it does. The tiny fan propped up on the counter is much better for relieving the heat.

"Yo." Jigen comes down the tiny, narrow stairs that lead to their tiny, narrow apartment on the second floor. "Any customers?"

"A few." Goemon replies without opening his eyes. "It's been slow."

"Hmm." He hears.

Then, he feels Jigen's presence behind him.

Then, he feels...

"Jigen." His eyes remain resolutely closed. "We're at work."

Jigen's hand, which has slipped around Goemon's waist, doesn't move.

"I'm not doing anything improper." He snickers, propping his pointy chin on Goemon's shoulder. "Anyways, it's not busy, right?"

If Goemon's eyes were open, he'd roll them.

"One kiss?" Jigen continues, shifting his face until he's cheek-to-cheek with Goemon, a grin still on his face.

"...If you insist." Goemon sighs, but turns to kiss him, lightly. The beard scratches against his face, and Jigen always tastes like smoke, but it's all part of what they are-

"Starting without me?" The bell rings when Fujiko walks in the door, groceries propped on her hip. "How rude. I'll get jealous, you know."

Jigen snorts.

"Lupin's in the office with Pops. I'm sure he'd be more than happy to let you distract him from tax returns." He says. Fujiko joins them behind the counter and, pushing the bag of food into Jigen's protesting hands, leans down to kiss Goemon deeper than Jigen had.

"I'm back." She murmurs. Jigen scoffs but doesn't avert his eyes.

"Hmm... who's jealous now?" Fujiko breaks away from Goemon, who's looking thoroughly flushed, and smirks at Jigen.

He scowls.

"As if." He hefts the bag of groceries more securely in his arms. "And, what, I don't get a kiss?"

"Didn't know you wanted one." Fujiko feigns ignorance, tapping one finger to her bottom lip which, just moments before, been pressed against Goemon's. Jigen huffs- almost embarrassed, but they've been together too long for that- and turns his head, but Fujiko takes mercy and slides her hand up his arm, moving closer to kiss him on the cheek.

"Take the groceries upstairs, please." She says, smirking, drawing away. Jigen glares, a flush high on his face, almost hidden by the shadow of his hat.

"Fine." He mutters, and turns back to the stairs, but not before he leans down to press his lips briefly to the side of Goemon's neck. The skin there is pink from the blush that's worked its way up his neck.

~~~~~~

"Lupin, would you sit still for one second?" Zenigata scowls, the crease between his eyebrows growing deeper with every moment. "We have to file these to remain a legitimate business-"

"I don't care." Lupin moans, arms sprawled over the back of his office chair. There are only two desks in the office, because no more than two of them ever do administrative work at one time, and the room is so small that it's cramped enough as it is. They're lucky it's not small enough to trigger Fujiko's claustrophobia- after Zenigata, she's easily the most productive member of the group. The room holds many memories of late nights between Zenigata and Fujiko, glasses propped on the bridges of their noses, burning furiously through paperwork and inventory records.

Zenigata throws a pen at Lupin's chin. It connects. Lupin jumps up with a yelp.

"Pops! What was that for?" He complains, rubbing his face. "You guys always say you can't read my handwriting anyways, so I'm useless for filling out paperwork-"

Zenigata rubs the spot between his eyes. His headache is getting worse. He sighs in defeat and digs around in the desk drawer for a cigarette. The only ones there are a pack of Jigen's, which are too bitter, but he lights one up anyways. It tastes familiar, even though he never smokes them, because that's what Jigen's mouth tastes like when they-

He coughs, choking on smoke.

Lupin glances over.

"You alright?" He asks. "Don't swallow that cigarette. They're not candy, you know."

Zenigata glares up at him, doubled over, eyes watering slightly.

"Shut up." He wheezes.

~~~~~~

"Goemon, where's the curry powder?" Zenigata asks, the sleeves of his white dress shirt rolled up to the elbows and a pink apron tied to his front.

Goemon looks up from washing the rice. Whenever Goemon cooks, it's always traditional food.

"Not in the cabinet?" He drains the water and adds more, slotting the container in the rice cooker and pressing the button. "I thought we still had some, but we might be out."

Zenigata sighs and slumps against the counter.

"Why can't I ever find anything in this house?" He moans.

Goemon chuckles. The sleeves of his robe are tied by the straps around his back.

"We have spices in the cabinets too, you know." He wipes his hands and opens the tiny wooden door again, peering at the shelves, pulling out half a dozen jars of powder and setting them on the counter. Zenigata lets out a breath. His fingers ache from filling out paperwork. He flexes them, trying to release the stiffness in the joints.

Goemon notices.

"Are you in pain?" He asks, glancing over. "I can cook tonight, if-"

Zenigata shakes his head.

"I'm fine." He says gruffly, still stretching his fingers by pressing them against his other palm. His right thumb seems in danger of cramping up. Before he knows it, Goemon's long, pale fingers are on his.

"A musician has to take care of their hands." Goemon murmurs, hair falling into his face, pressing the fleshy parts of Zenigata's palm with the pads of his fingers. Goemon's hands are thin and delicate-looking, but possess the strength of someone who spends hours a day training with them- his touch on Zenigata's skin is firm and smooth. Zenigata exhales unknowingly and relaxes his hands.

"Hmm." He makes a noise. Goemon smiles and presses a light kiss to the heel of Zenigata's palm. The blood rushes to Zenigata's face at hyperspeed, staining his cheeks and tightening his shoulders. Something so small shouldn't still embarrass him- he and Goemon have touched in... less innocent ways- but the tiny gesture still makes him flush dramatically and duck his head.

#lupin iii #lupin ot5 #arsene lupin iii #goemon ishikawa xiii #jigen daisuke #mine fujiko #zenigata koichi #mine #my writing #blease kill me #ot5

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jeremystrele · 4 years

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Lush Balinese Villas That Show Off The Beauty Of Tropical Living

These beautiful Balinese villas show off a lush tropical lifestyle that will have you dreaming of a sun drenched getaway. But before you start searching for your passport, take a moment to enjoy the gorgeous architecture, lavish interiors and green landscaping that this collection of four holiday home designs has to offer. Get set to explore a modern tropical abode under great undulating rafters, a traditional fine wood and thatch villa, a crisp property exterior with a dark heart, and an elegant jungle villa with warm orange and green accents. Let’s not overlook the alluring swimming pools that each place is set around too, along with fish filled ponds with meditative vibes.

Photographer: Danang Seta Padding around the lawned grounds of home design number one, the twilight sky both shades and showcases the dramatic undulation of a unique roofline. Interior lights beam through glass wall bedrooms and living spaces. Pool lights illuminate cool blue water along the sleeping sun deck.

In the morning light, the Balinese villa comes alive with vibrant green trees and shrubs. Hanging plants pour out of first floor balconies.

The rectangular pool design features a sunken sundeck and a sloping floor.

The overhang of the waved roofline provides some internal shade for the house to keep rooms cool.

Outdoor chaise lounge chairs pull up around the edge of the pool on an L-shaped deck, looking out onto the tropical garden.

Mature trees grow an oasis of privacy around the property.

Inside of the house there is a totally different vibe from the natural timber deck and abundant nature outside. The interior is an industrial grey open plan, dotted with colourful modern art and contemporary furniture.

A rustic dining set brings back the tropical vibe. A matching rustic dining bench serves one side of the table whilst four stylish dining chairs up the formal aesthetic on the opposite side.

A suspended staircase design gives rise to the upper floor over stone treads. One wall of the kitchen slots into the space under the open staircase, but the bulk of the kitchen utility is situated around a central island volume.

A goddess statue reclines by the wall of the kitchen, surrounded by the natural beauty of plants and trees.

The Jungle Book by Rudyard Kipling makes a fitting coffee table book for the tropical setting.

Up in the bedroom we catch our first glimpse of how the unusual undulating roofline translates into the internal space. Great sweeping rafters pull over the bed, like the sinews of a mighty whale.

Custom-made glass walls open up the bedroom to panoramic views of the landscape.

Bespoke curtain rails pull across the curvaceous window and door frames.

Kuno Villas at Gili Trawangan is a three bedroom vacation property, built traditionally with fine wood and a thatched roof.

The elegant holiday destination is surrounded by tropical gardens and its own outdoor swimming pool.

An outdoor lounge overlooks the freeform pool and its rushing waterfall feature.

Inside, wooden interiors are broken with fresh white accents and pops of yellow.

Framed ceilings create a unique 4 poster bed effect in one of the three suites.

Bespoke dressing tables merge into wood framed walls.

Bathrooms are full of rustic tropical character. In this one, indoor pools present a bridged walkway to the bathtub. The wooden bridge is actually the shower platform, with the shower controls located on a freestanding column at one side.

This ensuite pushes the shower out into a garden border.

Muxarabi screens open the bathrooms up to plentiful ventilation whilst screening the sunlight. Solid wood bathroom furniture matches the rustic architecture of the place, and complements the natural pools and plants implemented into the design.

Stepping stones emerge from the shallow waters of a reflection pool.

Rocks and shrubs build a natural border around the outdoor swimming pool.

This modern three bedroom villa has crisp exterior landscaping with a linear sundeck and elongated pool. A high border of tropical trees grows a dense wall of privacy.

Chic outdoor lounge furniture is dressed with stylish monochrome throws and scatter cushions.

A fish pond sets out an area for quiet reflection, with the bubbling splash of a water fountain to aid the meditative state.

The dark interior style exudes sophistication. A vaulted ceiling keeps the inside of the villa feeling airy. A cluster of oversized living room pendant lights drop great lengths from the wooden rafters.

Across from the modern black sofa, a low lounge chair reclines at either side of the TV wall.

Directors chairs make up a unique modern dining set with a solid black table. Tubular dining room pendant lights drop like gold wind chimes overhead.

A red runner lays a bright stripe through a black bedroom scheme.

Patterned accents break up the black bed set on an imposing black 4 poster bed.

A skylight spills sunshine into a grey concrete bathroom.

Source: Danang Seta Our last tour takes place in an elegant jungle villa with a tree shaded patio.

A swimming pool dominates the outdoor area, pushing up against a lush border of tropical plants.

The villa opens up to the outdoors with a bar area.

Green and orange accents lift the grey stone and rich wood surroundings.

Slab stepping stones cross a fish pond.

Bright bedrooms are decorated with traditional art and textiles, in a decidedly more muted green and orange palette.

Recommended Reading: Gorgeous Tropical Villas In Bali

Bali's Tropical Paradise Maya Ubud Resort

Orange Kitchens

Four Breathtaking Greek Villas

16 Green Color Bedrooms

Green Themed Home Decor Inspiration

4 Green Decor Schemes That Help You Feel Closer To Nature

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drewebowden66 · 4 years