#Why must he be like half robot

[vikvampir3]

Drawing hoyoverse characters makes me wanna throw my iPad out the window- like why the FUCK are they designed *that complicated* and also I make all of them like slightly darker than they are bc I’m not shading skin in shades of pure fucking white

[nereidprinc3ss]

relax

in which spencer helps university student reader de-stress after a particularly exhausting assignment

18+ (smut) warnings: fingering, overstimulation, happy crying, lowkey softdom spencer, slight d/s dynamics, reader is referred to as a girl, ????idk i've never had to tag for smut before lols wc: 2624 a/n: been doing some insane literary cooking. lots of smut AND more fluff in the works (all uni reader... lol... ). idk if i love this but again need to fucking get it out of my word doc so here u go, PLEASE lmk if you like it!!

You don’t even realize the room has gone completely dark until Spencer comes in the front door and flicks on the light. 

“Why did you do that?” you snap immediately, looking up from your laptop screen for the first time in potentially hours, blinking hard as your eyes painfully adjust. Your boyfriend gives you an odd look. 

“Hello to you too...” 

“I’m sorry. Hi. How was dinner?” 

“It was good,” he says, crossing the room to the couch that has been your entire world for the past five hours. You sigh, releasing some of the tension in your shoulders when he leans down to kiss your head and set down a to-go box on the coffee table. “Have you moved since I left?” 

“...no,” you admit, moving your eyes dejectedly to the keyboard.  

“You made progress,” he appeases, leaning over you to angle the laptop upward. Immediately you wrench it away, holding it protectively against your chest. 

“Stop! I don’t want you to read it yet!” 

“I could help you with it though,” he pleads, bracing a hand on the arm of the couch. You look up into his hazel eyes, where he’s definitely playing up the puppy dog factor. His tie brushes your stomach, and he smells like lavender and clove and-- 

“You need to go away,” you realize, snapping back to reality and shrinking into the couch, away from him—trying to escape his all-encompassing sensory presence.  

“Wh- I just got back!” he scoffs, straightening. 

“You’re distracting me,” you accuse, throwing him a baleful look. 

“I’m literally offering to help you.” 

“And I’m respectfully declining because I care too much about your opinion to show you this essay until it’s less terrible. I really just need a couple more hours to finish it, please?” 

Spencer sighs, regarding your pitiful state before moving to sit down next to you. Automatically you move your legs out of the way before settling them in his lap and damn it he’s supposed to be going away. Your iron grip on the laptop involuntarily loosens a little as his hands begin to run back and forth over your legs. No—you must stay focused.  

“Spencer,” you whine, flopping your head back. You let the implied complaint hang in the air. 

“You’ve been writing all day. Your brain is exhausted, and your synapses aren’t firing at a rate that is intellectually productive.” 

“What is the point of having a brain if I can’t even use it half the time!” you almost-shout, pressing the palms of your hands into your eyes until you see fireworks.  

The couch shifts and you feel the warm, robotic weight of the laptop unpin you as Spencer lifts it from your lap. “Don’t read it,” you beg, watching through parted fingers as he sets it on the coffee table, and relaxing slightly when he settles back into the couch.  

“Come here,” he says, holding out an arm. Too mentally exhausted to do anything but comply, you pull yourself up just enough to fall into him. Immediately he wraps his arms around you, one hand slipping under your shirt to rub your back in hypnotizing passes. “I think you burnt yourself out,” he mutters. 

You nod into his shoulder, surrendering yourself to his warmth, letting yourself sink into a lavender-clove fog, wanting nothing more than to dissolve into it. The darkness behind your eyes glows an inviting amber, threatening to pull you under...  

But the essay... 

“Stop thinking about the essay,” he demands. 

“But I have so much to do,” you sigh against his jacket, the words coming out muffled. 

“The best thing you can do now is give your brain a rest. I promise you you’re not making that paper any better if you’re exhausted.” 

“I am not exhausted,” you insist, although your eyes are still closed, “I’m just really stressed.”  

Spencer hums, continuing to rub your back.  

“Do you need me to help you relax?” he says innocently. 

Oh? 

One of your eyes opens to peer up at him suspiciously. He sweeps some of your hair out of your face. 

“Because I would be happy to.” A moment passes—him looking down at you fondly; you wondering if you’re picking up what he’s putting down. 

“And how would you go about doing that?” you ask suspiciously. 

“Orgasms reduce tension and stress and improve brain function.” 

Damn. Why did the nerdiest, most un-sexy pickup line ever just turn you on?

You groan, burying your face further into his shirt—mostly to hide any trace of a blush. 

“You know what else would reduce stress and improve brain functioning? Taking an Adderall and finishing my fucking essay.”  

“Angel, you're such a smart girl, and you are fully capable of doing whatever you set your mind to—but I will lock your laptop in my gun safe before I let you look at that essay again tonight.” He speaks so softly, and his fingers are still gently combing through your messy hair... all in all, you put up a good fight, right? Maybe you should just listen to him...

“... fine.” you say eventually, reluctant to give in too quickly even though the idea quickly has filled your stomach with butterflies. 

“Fine?” he says, pausing his motions as you turn your head just enough to look up at him. “Sounds like you don’t really want it, baby. Maybe we should just go to sleep. Or I could take you back to your-” 

“Spence,” you whine, gently grabbing the front of his shirt. Now he’s going to make you beg? As if it wasn’t his idea? Those puppy dog eyes of his are deceiving. 

“You’re gonna have to do better than that,” he sighs, hand moving from your hair to your outer thigh. 

“Please?” you whisper, dignity forgotten as you look up at him imploringly. 

“Lean back, sweet girl,” he says, helping you adjust your position til you’re lying against his chest, legs sprawled across the couch. Your head lolls on his shoulder, intoxicated by his close proximity. “Perfect. Such a good listener.” 

Normally, you’d be quick to make a defensive remark, but with the way he’s slowly hiking your shirt up, running his hands over your sides so lightly it gives you goosebumps—you're really in no position to argue. Your eyes flutter shut as his hands grow bolder in their explorations, crossing your stomach, fingers just slipping under the waistband of your shorts and skimming over your hipbones before coming back up. 

“Does that feel good?” he murmurs, and you nod lazily, apparently losing access to your language facilities after running them dry all day. Unfortunately, that doesn’t seem good enough for your boyfriend. “Do you remember when the last time I touched you like this was?” 

Through the hazy blur of your exhaustion, you try to think back. Was it... two days ago? Three? More? 

“Almost a week ago,” he supplies the answer for you when you take too long. What? That can’t be right. 

But when you think about it harder... it is right. It was right before finals week started.  

An errant hand straying up your torso distracts you. “Do you remember what I did?” 

You flush. 

“You... yeah,” is the best you can offer, too flustered to say exactly what he did to your body. That stray hand moves over your breast. Your back arches just slightly at the stimulation through the thin fabric of your bra.  

Thankfully, he lets you off the hook.  

“I made you cum three times, right?” 

“Mhm,” you hum through closed lips, tense with anticipation as he finally slides both hands down to your shorts and wordlessly directs you to lift your hips so he can pull them all the way off along with your underwear. 

“You’ve been so busy lately, huh. Working so hard.” 

You unconsciously drop your bent legs open, brain too foggy to be insecure about how utterly bare you are—allowing him to slowly rub up and down your inner thigh. 

“I’m gonna make you feel good, honey. I don’t think three times was enough for such a stressful week.” 

You gasp when his fingers finally brush your clit, whimpering slightly when they just barely skim your entrance before tracing the wetness back up.  

“Give me your hand,” Spencer says, taking his own from between your legs and holding it up. You don’t even think about it, releasing your grip on the arm he now has wrapped around you and holding it out for him. At this point, you’d do anything he tells you to without hesitation.  

He takes the proffered hand, gently guiding it back between your legs. Your fingers meet slick, soft warmth. “Do you feel how wet you are?” 

“Yeah,” you breathe, seeing how your fingers glisten when you pull them away. His remain, running slowly up and down your clit. Your brain seems to be vibrating in your skull as warmth spreads throughout your body. 

“Who’s that for?” 

“You, Spencer,” you whimper. He hums in approval before the room falls into silence as you both watch his teasing intently, your breath baited as you try to be patient. But your body isn’t with the program, you keep twisting slightly, your hips cant upward. “Please, please,” the words escape on a held exhalation as you finally break, arching your back against him as your search for more friction.  

Without warning, he sinks two fingers inside you. The slight stretch after not having taken anything in a week scratches an itch you didn’t even know you had, and you let out a broken moan. 

“I know, honey. You’re so good, I know.” Spencer kisses your head as he speaks over your cry, barely moving his fingers for a few moments while you get comfortable. 

Still you’re not ready for it when he withdraws and pushes back in. 

“Look at that,” he breathes. 

“Oh, fuck,” you choke, watching how your arousal completely coats his fingers as he slowly, slowly begins to fuck you with them. 

Again you feel the vibrations in his chest as he laughs slightly—probably at your earlier insistence that you didn’t desperately want this. The laughter fades as you both become entranced by the sight of his fingers disappearing into you, and your stomach twists with pleasure. His pace remains languid, and he seems to delight in the filthy, wet sounds his hand is producing between your legs.  

“You okay, baby?” he asks after a moment, seemingly snapping out of some trance. 

“Uh huh,” you whimper. One particular drag of his fingers at just the right angle has you dizzy, and then he’s speeding up. Your jaw drops at the change in pace and your hips chase his hand, wanting even more. 

“So pretty,” he mutters as his other hand moves to spread you open.  

You attempt to shut your legs around his wrist, but instead he just ruts his fingers deeper into you, palm pressed against your clit. You attempt to twist away from the extreme stimulation, but he doesn’t allow it. 

“Too much,” you squeak, bucking your hips inadvertently. 

“No it’s not,” he states, like you’re talking about the weather. 

“Spencer, I really c- ah- can't!” 

“It feels like a lot, huh?” he asks soothingly, not letting up one bit. 

“Yes!” you cry, eyes stinging as tears begin to well. 

“You’re okay, angel. It’s just been a while.” 

You are so completely fucked. Each stroke of his hand feels like an electric jolt through your whole body. It is too much, but at the same time, pleasure is pooling deep in your stomach and at the base of your spine and you never want him to stop. You throw your head back onto Spencer’s shoulder, eyes screwed shut.  

“Relax,” he mutters, carefully bearing down the pressure across your waist with his arm to try and keep you from squirming. 

A rhythmic whine breaks through the barrier of your sealed lips as you focus all your energy into taking it, when the all-consuming need to kiss him hits you. You twist your neck to look up at him, observing the furrow of his brow and the way he’s tucked his bottom lip into a bite. Thankfully he notices your movement—his eyes dart from your own half-lidded gaze to your lips and he understands what you want. 

The kiss is messy and the angle is awkward and you’re moaning into his mouth half the time anyway, but it feels so good to have his lips moving on yours that you don’t care about any of it.  

“I—ah,” you cry into him, unable to form a coherent thought as your stomach drops like you’re mounting the peak of a roller coaster. 

His fingers again change their angle and he finds the spot inside you that makes your legs spasm. Attempting to hold in whatever noises you were making is now futile—the whimpers and pants turn to full-fledged keening moans interspersed with taut silences as you fail to breathe properly.  

Your wrench your gaze and lips away from Spencer to watch through a blurry haze the rapid movement of his hand between your bare legs, the way your hips buck and twist and the way your leg bends as he hooks his free hand under your knee and hoists it toward your chest. 

“You’re doing so well, honey. Being so good for me.” 

Moisture spills over from your eyes, tracing down your cheeks and down your neck as you begin to come with no warning and a desperate, broken cry. 

A string of praise from Spencer underscores your pleading moans, but you can’t focus on anything other than the buzzing warmth emanating from your core, the bright, pulsing white that blinds you and the feeling of stardust flowing through your veins. 

Your boyfriend continues pumping his fingers slowly in and out of you for a blissful few moments, before sensing the tail-end of your orgasm and bringing his fingers up to rub lazy circles over your clit. Aftershocks resonate from the hypersensitive area and make you clamp your legs shut around his hand as your toes curl and you attempt to squirm out of his grip. 

“Done! I’m done,” you squeak, rocking your hips back and forth to try and escape his toying. 

“Okay, okay,” he soothes, relieving the pressure of his hand between your legs and moving it to run over your stomach as you come down. 

You lie in silence for a minute, enjoying the liquid sensation weighing down your muscles and basking in the warm afterglow of your orgasm.  

“Shit,” you breathe shakily after a moment. Spencer chuckles. You manage to turn yourself over, laying your cheek on his shoulder and slipping your arms under his waist. He looks down at you as he moves on to massaging your back and bare hips, eyes full of warm adoration.  

“Feel better?” 

You hum an affirmation, wiping your eyes on his shirt. 

“Oh, honey, did I make you cry?” 

You laugh into his chest and nod, a few stray tears leaking from your shut eyes. “It’s okay. Not sad tears.” 

“What kind of tears?” 

“Orgasm tears,” you mumble, a tidal wave of exhaustion you’d been fighting all day finally washing over you. 

“That makes sense. Orgasms can be cathartic or even therapeutic depending on your head space. Major losses and life changes are often associated with sexual dysfunction but the opposite is actually just as if not more common. A spike in libido can—” 

Spencer pauses, looking down to see that you’re either asleep or close to it, and smiles to himself. You’ll probably be mad about it when you wake up, but he had to get you to stop thinking about that paper somehow. 

[keferon]

Eh okay so. My brain is absolutely cooked so you will probably just have to ignore the linguistic fuckups

Jazz and Prowl learning to communicate because language barrier is a thing >:D

Previous part

Jazz sometimes thinks that somewhere along his career path he lost the bar separating normal from...well...everything else.

After all he's seen, heard about, and done, he's not sure exactly how to measure what's weird and what's normal. He has..the general idea.

His own. And it's so convoluted and fucked up that he'd rather jump into a volcano than try to explain it to anyone else. Jazz thinks the little colorful aliens around him are weird as hell. He thinks they sound weird, he thinks they look weird, and he thinks he must be going crazy.

And then this big black and white robot catches his eye and Jazz's first thought is not "what the fuck??"

His first thought is

"Thank God! Someone's normal!"

Whoever this guy is, he sounds like he knows what he's doing. And most importantly, he looks just like Jazz. Well, not exactly. But close enough. After all, Jazz knows that his organization wasn't the only mech maker on the entire planet. Other countries were making Mechs too, and Jazz hadn't seen even half of them.

But he can recognize a giant robot when he sees one, okay?

The thought that another mech could be an alien doesn't even enter his mind.

So used to the constant presence of huge piloted robots around him, he looks at this one and clings to its appearance as something familiar and easily explainable. His brain says, we know how this works. There's a robot and inside the robot there's another person. It's the way it's always been. The sky is blue, the grass is green and the robots are human-piloted. It's that simple.

The guy takes him to the far corner of the room and says something. Jazz…doesn't understand..

The mech's face contorts in a surprisingly believable display of concentration. How...who built this robot? How could they make it frown?

He hears something else being said to him but again can't understand a word. Why won't this pilot get out of the mech to talk to him? Jazz doesn't have his communication frequency but surely they could at least shake hands. There must be some reason. Maybe something wrong with the air? Is it dangerous to be outside? This guy should know better, he's been here longer than Jazz, it seems.

(Damn it, whose idea was it to make a mech with a face, it's so distracting)

He rushes to activate the external speakers, because he and this guy obviously speak different languages, but it never hurts to try, right?

"So uh, I don't think you can understand English?"

Mech frowns again, trying to pick up on something familiar in a language that's apparently new to him. But finds nothing. Jazz lowers his horns sadly.

Oh well. Fuck. As if being stuck in an unknown place with unknown creatures wasn't enough, he can't even talk to anyone! How is he supposed to get out of here? Which way should he even go?

The mech waves his hand to get his attention and then pulls out a tablet and a stylus from..where ?

Jazz somehow manages to overlook the fact that the tablet is made to fit the mech's size. His head is still feels a bit…off..after that portal thingie.

"Charades it is then."

____________________

An hour and a half later, Jazz finds himself staring intensely at the screen in front of him with a surprisingly neatly drawn chart on it.

"So uh. Motion."

The other guy nods and starts drawing a walking mech. Then something that looks like a very unusual car. Then a submarine. Jazz gets a little lost looking at how skillful he is with the stylus.

Honestly, he's a good artist!

The guy points to the sketch of a walking mech and says

" Motion."

Then points to the drawing of a car driving and the columns of the chart.

"Motion-rotation" he points to the car again.

That must mean "driving" huh? Jazz nods understandingly.

Mech moves his finger to the submarine.

"Motion-Water."

Ah, it must mean swimming. Jazz nods once more, feeling like a wind-up dummy repeating the same motion a dozen times.

The mech makes a quiet humming noise and then points to the chart

"Motion. Sky."

And then gives Jazz the stylus?

Uh, what is he... Oh, he wants Jazz to figure out what it means.

"Motion" and "sky," right?

Jazz takes the stylus? Pencil? Thingie.. and very carefully draws out a crooked scribble of something only remotely resembling an airplane. The mech arches an eyebrow and looks like he wants to laugh.

Jazz shrugs awkwardly and tries to add windows to the airplane, but ends up making it look more like a severely fucked up caterpillar.

Mech snorts.

Jazz kicks him in the leg.

The airplane begs for a merciful death.

Jazz didn't really expect to get into a language class but he has to admit that whatever language he's learning now is a surprisingly easy one. It only took the other dude half an hour to show him the basic concept and from there it became a game of associations.

There were simple definitions. Like size, quantity, speed, emotion and so on.

There were signs that automatically turned the whole sentence into a question or a statement.

There were modifiers that Jazz defined in his head as positive and negative.

Positive speed - fast.

Positive size - large.

Positive direction - forward.

Positive time - future.

There were also basic words for senses, emotions and whatnot, also with modifiers.

Mouth-positive - to speak

Brain-positive - to think, but negative-brain-do-positive - to learn.

Huh.

And it's so neatly organized that Jazz wondered if this language was designed specifically to be easy to learn.

Let's see....

Mouth - positive, effort - negative.

"Easy to speak."

The guy nods contentedly and starts talking back, while pointing to the appropriate columns of the chart to make it easier for Jazz to understand.

"Creation-positive. Purpose. Person-negative-knowledge. memory-positive-effort-negative."

Jazz frowns, concentrating on his finger.

Oh. Created. For those who don't know it. Easy to learn.

He was right. The whole thing is waaaay too awkward to write poetry but learning it is a delight.

Jazz leans over the chart.

All right, well, let's see.

“Name. You. Question?”

The other guy smiles and pokes at the chart

"Me.Motion-sound-negative.Negative-eyes-positive-someone."

Walk quietly. searching?… Sneaking?

Oh, it's not "to sneak" it's "to prowl"

"Prowl" nods affirmatively. Jazz smiles at him and looks at the chart again. Okay. How to say “music”?..

“word-knowledge-negative.”

He stops to make a gesture with his hands, as if playing an invisible piano while humming a tune.

Prowl nods

“Sound-positive-positive-hearing.”

Jazz chuckles

“A whole two positives eh? Okay then. Uh. You don't look like you listen to jazz....so..”

“Me. Name. Sound-positive-positive-listening.”

Prowl raises his eyebrows. (Jazz is jealous, he wishes he had eyebrows too.)

“You're a musician?"

Jazz quickly shakes his head while simultaneously muting the outside speakers to a barely audible level and turning on one of the songs on his playlist.

Prowl twitches in surprise when he hears the melody.

Jazz waits for the intro to finish playing and then points to himself

“Creation-negative..uh..Sound-positive-positive-hearing. Jazz. This...”

He pats himself lightly on the chest.

"..is me. Jazz."

Prowl straightens up slightly

“Oh, you're not a musician, you're the music.”

Jazz nods cheerfully

“Yes yes!”

“Jaaz?”

“No no. Jazz.”

“Ah. Jazz?”

“That's right.”

Prowl draws a portal on the screen.

“You teleported here. What happened?”

Jazz hangs back, trying to construct an answer in his head. Good thing Prowl seems to have infinite patience

“So, I uh. What was 'fight'? Movement-pain-positive? I fought these things...”

He takes the tablet from Prowl and draws a crooked blot with a bunch of tentacles on it. Then thinks for a bit and adds big teeth and a lot of eyes. He's not really sure how to draw those eyes properly, so he just scatters them randomly around the monster area.

Prowl doesn't seem to be that amused by Jazz's drawings anymore, in fact, he suddenly becomes very somber.

“Quintessons.”

He pokes at the monster

“Name-Quintessons. Number-question.”

How many?

Jazz scratches the back of his head

“So uh...a lot?....number-positive-positive-positive-positive-positi...you get the idea.”

To be convincing, he dramatically spreads his arms out to the sides depicting something very large.

Prowl looks alarmed.

And unconvinced.

“How did you survive?”

Jazz laughs pretentiously

“Ask them how they survived.”

Prowl makes the “you can't be serious” face. Jazz isn't quite sure what exactly is confusing him. Mechs are designed to kill Quintessons, aren't they? Judging by his movements, this pilot must be damn good at controlling his mech, and that kind of guys usually fight on the front lines.

He decides to put that thought aside for later. There are more important things right now, like...oh shit, where is he even going??

Jazz leans over the chart again

“Uh. Right. Question-we-move-up-place” Man, how to specify... “Knowledge-negative?”

Prowl, linguistic gods bless him, understands him and starts gesturing over the chart in response

Okay. Ah. I-move-up. Planet-creation-positive.

'I'm heading home' or 'my home planet'.”

Jazz instantly perks up.

“Oh that's great, I'm pretty sure I'm supposed to go there too.”

Prowl is speaking in a language he's unfamiliar with, so he's definitely from another country, but hey, who cares as long as it's on Earth, right? He just needs to get there and he'll find his own way from there.

He watches the space debris flicker by outside the window. Even the stars are unfamiliar, Jazz can't find any constellations he knows.

One of the little purple creatures says something and Prowl steps aside to chat with them. Jazz leans back and settles into a more or less stable position. Then does the same thing, but with his real, human body. Hell, his head still feels really fucking weird after that teleportation.

He opens the comm channel and just listens to the static for a couple minutes in the faint hope that the engineering department will find a way to contact him.

Nothing.

He sighs.

“1061 on the com. In case there's any way you can hear me...ah shit. You guys won't believe what happened...”

[rachalixie]

can’t get you off my mind

all good love stories start with a drunk stranger, don’t they?

warnings: mentions of alcohol, fem!reader

genre: fluff, comfort

word count: 4k

it starts at a bar. 

or really, it starts with a man at a bar. one that you’ve seen before in passing, a familiar face in a sea of more familiar faces. someone who you’ll later learn is one third of your best friend changbin’s production team, someone who you should have met years ago probably, someone who you would find is the perfect puzzle piece that fits into your jagged edges.

but right now, he is just a man at a bar with a beer in hand and a ridiculously dopey smile on his face. 

“marry me, please,” he says, absolutely serious but it’s a bit diluted from the way his words were slurred around the edges. “or i’ll have to kidnap you.”

“excuse me?” you raise a brow at him, his image swimming a bit as you turn your head to fully take him in. you’re not drunk, but youre a couple glasses of wine deep and you’re not known for being fully articulate whilst sober anyways. 

“i swear i’m going to marry you,” he says, eyes wide as he looks at you. “you might be the most perfect person i’ve ever seen.”

you’re not overly fond of men you haven’t met hitting on you, but this one seems a bit harmless. if you ignored the part where he said he would kidnap you. at least he wasn’t grabbing onto you or trying to touch you - that would have sent your fist flying towards his face and probably a swift exit from the bar. it was a little weird that you didn’t find him weird, but in retrospect you must have known, even then. 

“okay, listen,” you put your hands on your hips, giving him an unimpressed look. “if you find me when you’re sober, ask me again and maybe i’ll reconsider.”

“okay,” he nods, hair moving along with his movement like a puppy’s ears. “i can do that. i’ll find you, i promise. i’m gonna marry you, did you know?”

“so i’ve heard,” you roll your eyes, already feeling a bit fond about him. you didn’t think you’d meet him again, but you were sure that you’d look at this night with a fond smile later. 

he sends you the brightest smile you think you’ve ever seen on a person and scampers off, and you stand rooted to that one sticky spot in the bar for longer than you want to admit.

–

he’s in the back of your mind when you wake up the next morning, in a better mood than most - you never liked waking up early, it always took you a good hour and some coffee to be able to stand without grimacing. this morning though, you float around your apartment as you get dressed with a small smile on your face. 

a cute stranger who kept his boundaries and called you perfect? that wasn’t something that happened often, at least not to you. 

the floatiness followed you all the way through your morning routine until you found your feet stopping outside the coffee shop that you and changbin all but owned. you had no stock in it, but you’re sure that you supply them at least half of their revenue, you probably sit on their rickety chairs more often than your actual couch at home. this place has nursed you through every college class and job interview preparations and beyond, and if it ever closed you might lose time off of your life span. 

your movements from the door to the counter to your usual seat were robotic, muscle memory taking over while your head did somersaults through the clouds. it’s only when you take the first sip of coffee, the bitterness and heat hitting your tongue in a delightful dance, that you notice it. 

another man is sitting next to changbin. a man that looks awfully familiar, and it takes you a moment to realize why. it’s the man from the bar. 

“changbin?” you keep your eyes on the other man as you direct your question at changbin, trying hard to keep your face neutral. “explain?”

“i’m chan,” the man interjects before changbin can answer, reaching his hand across the table for you to shake. it’s warm, his grip somewhere perfectly in the middle of too hard and too soft, and he lets go after an appropriate amount of seconds. despite the neutral passivity of the gesture, you feel something ignite within you, and it threatens to sputter out when you catch no spark of recognition in his eyes. was he that drunk last night that he doesn’t remember you? do his sober eyes not find you as perfect?

“he crashed at my place last night,” changbin’s voice filters through your turmoil, and you finally break away from chan’s gaze to level him with a look. “and he needed coffee, so i brought him along. chan, this is y/n, my best friend.”

the conversation that followed flowed more freely than the coffee dripping from the machines behind the counter, and you almost hate how much you like it. chan is a little goofy, the man from the previous night shining through moments of seriousness and rapt attention. 

by the time you had to leave to go to work you felt like you knew him. you learned where he lived (close to you!), that he worked with changbin (he’s a producer!), and that he loved all animals but he adored dogs (he has one named berry!). just an hour of casual conversation had led to you needing more of him in every aspect of your life, but still in the back of your head lived the thought of him not remembering you from the night before.

changbin leaves first, citing some meeting he had to run to in the middle of a yawn, and when you were left with chan the embarrassment began to set in. 

“i’m going to marry you,” he blurts out, startling you so much you almost jump out of your seat. 

“what?” you ask, a mixture of surprise and disbelief combining into a confusing vortex within your head - was he going to go through this again? you didn’t know if your heart could take it. 

“i mean, i remember you,” he says before you could awkwardly excuse yourself and commit to getting to work early for the first time in a year just to escape being in a room alone with him for much longer. “i’m sorry, i was just embarrassed. i didn’t want to make a fool out of myself in front of changbin.”

“oh,” your breath leaves you all at once and you slump into your chair, understanding hitting you like a train. “that makes sense? i think?”

“i’m going to marry you,” he repeats, a mischievous glint in his eyes, the boy from last night shining through. “one day. i’m going to do it.”

“take me on a date first,” you tease back, a genuine smile stretching across your lips when he laughs, a full bodied thing that drew in eyes from the patrons across the room. for once, you didn’t seem to care that others’ eyes were on you. he made you feel comfortable. 

“what are you doing tomorrow?” his mouth turns upwards into a beautiful smile that you can’t help but return. 

“eager, are we?” you open your phone, sliding it across the table with the new contact page open on it. “i’m free.”

“you’re the most perfect person i’ve ever laid eyes on,” he says, as serious and genuine as the way he had proposed to you last night as he taps his number into your phone. “sorry if i’m a bit desperate.”

“don’t apologize,” you take your phone back, making a mental note to text him later. “i like it, for some unearthly reason. you’re cute, chan.”

the sound of his delighted laugh follows your footsteps all the way to work. 

— 

he picks you up for your first date at noon, right on the dot. he wasn’t a minute late, a polite knock sounding through your apartment just as the hour turned, as if he had been waiting and watching the time outside the door. 

god, is everything about this man endearing? 

he’s wearing shorts and a light sweater, looking like something out of a posh magazine. his hair is curly and swept off his forehead and he’s wearing a smile with the most adorable dimples shining through. 

he leads you to his car and you have to hold back an impressed whistle. you knew changbin and his team did well for themselves, the name 3racha all over the credits of songs on the radio, but this car was nice. you were going to have a talk with changbin about why he still drove the same beat up sedan he’s had since college but that was a thought for later. right now all you wanted to think about was the man who held the door open for you to slide into the passenger seat and was now holding your hand over the middle console. 

“do i get to know where we’re going?” you ask, peering at the map open on his phone but it tells you nothing more than that your destination was 15 minutes away and that he had to make a right turn in one mile. 

“it’s a surprise,” he says, voice a little nervous but it was masked with excitement. wherever he was taking you, you would be happy to be there if he was this happy the whole time. 

four songs on the radio later, one of which you teased him for when he revealed that he wrote it, he was pulling into a parking lot illuminated by flashing colorful lights. he had brought you to the fair. 

“i’ve never been to the fair!” you bounced a little in your seat, wriggling in excitement. “i’ve always wanted to go, how did you know?”

“lucky guess?” he shrugs, avoiding your gaze as he cuts the engine and unbuckles his seatbelt. 

“changbin told you, didn’t he,” you smile at the thought of chan asking his friend about what you’d like. it was cute, a word that you were probably exhausting when thinking about him even after a day of knowing him. 

“yes, but,” he flushes, the tips of his ears burning red. “i asked him after i had decided to come here, just to make sure it was a good idea. i didn’t steal it from him.”

“hey, it’s okay,” you squeeze his hand in yours that he had yet to let go of in what you hoped was a comforting gesture. you didn’t know what brought him calmness yet, but you wanted to learn. you wanted to learn everything about him. “now, take me to the fair, bang chan. i was promised a date.”

he finally meets your eyes again and he’s grinning so happily that you feel like you had just won a prize. who needed a fair when you had your very own carnival game right here? 

it turns out, you did. by the time the sun was beginning to set, your arms were full of various plushies that chan had won for you, each one earning him a hug and a kiss to his cheek. you treasured every single one, the fluttering in your chest when he stepped up to the booths to throw and shoot various things never ceasing. 

“let’s go to the ferris wheel,” you tug at him with your free hand, thanking the skies when you see no queue there. “i bet the sunset looks beautiful from the top.”

he’s quiet when he follows you there and into the carriage, his thigh pressing against yours as he slides in next to you, but you don’t notice in your excitement. it isn’t until the wheel ticks to the top and stops that he grabs your hand again, trembling a little. 

“chan? are you okay?” you ask, concern warping your voice as you turn towards him. your movement rocks the carriage a bit and he turns pale, ducking his head into your neck to hide. 

“yeah, ‘m okay,” he murmurs, his eyelashes ticking your skin when he blinks his eyes shut. “just don’t like heights very much.”

“oh my god, why didn’t you tell me?” you cry out, jumping a bit and regretting it when you rock the carriage again. “nevermind that, what can i do? it’ll go down soon, you’ll be alright.”

“just keep holding my hand?” he squeezes your fingers lightly and your heart melts. you may have made a joke that he was just trying to trick you into holding his hand any other time, but the fear in his shaking body was real and you’d never tease him for that. 

“of course,” you press a kiss to his hair, moving your other hand slowly to wrap around your intertwined fingers. the wheel begins to turn again, swaying the carriage as it descends. you keep your grip on his hand tight the entire time, all the way until you’re on your feet again on steady ground. 

“i’m so sorry,” you begin to say, the horror of subjecting him to his fear creeping up now that the crisis has passed. 

“i’m going to marry you,” he says, cutting off your apology and lifting your hands to his mouth so he could press a kiss to the back of yours. “no one’s ever been able to keep me that calm. thank you.”

you were left speechless after that and all you could do was smile at him, the ghost of it not leaving your face for the rest of the night. 

–

your thirty first date with chan ends with you crying into changbin’s arms, utterly confused and the feeling of despair creeping up your veins. you had met him your cafe as you had done several times since the fair, but when you arrived he wasn’t there. he came late, dark storms in his eyes and a hard set to his jaw and you didn’t understand what had made him like that. the usual smile and twinkle in his eyes were missing, and when you and asked him about what was wrong he had snapped at you in a way you hadn’t been talked to in years. 

you had left after that, brushing him off when his eyes had widened and he reached for you while calling out your name. you know that you should have given him a chance to explain, but at the time you were too hurt to consider it. 

you made your way to changbin’s apartment without thinking, your feet taking you to safety before your head could catch up. changbin had taken one look at your face before wrapping you up in his arm, walking you to his couch so he could cuddle you properly while words spilled out of you like a leaky faucet. you felt like you were back in college, crying and blubbering over a boy who had rejected you at a party, and you hated it. 

you didn’t notice changbin sending an angry text to chan, but the sound of changbin’s door opening with a bang startled you out of your tears. chan bursts in like a whirlwind, his hair sticking up at weird angles and a look of panic on his face as he takes you in. he reaches the couch in a few strides and falls to his knees in front of you, holding a crumpled bag from the cafe in his hand and taking your cheek gently into his other. his thumb wipes at the tear tracks there and you could practically taste the guilt emanating off of him. 

“love, i am so sorry,” he starts, ignoring changbin when he scoffs at the apology. “i shouldn’t have snapped at you, i had no right to do that. i got some bad news this morning and i wasn’t feeling my best, and i should have been honest with you. i’ll never do anything like that again, please forgive me? i’ll do anything.”

it was more his voice than his words that did it - he sounded so desperate, like he was trying to hold

onto a ledge that was crumbling, threatening to hurl his body into eternal nothingness. you knew him, you knew he was sorry, and against your first instinct you trusted him when he said he wouldn’t do it again. 

“is that an almond croissant?” you eye the bag in his hand. 

“it’s two almond croissants,” he nods fervently, his hair swishing back and forth with the movement. you sit up, sliding out of changbin’s arms and onto the floor in front of chan. chan’s arms replace changbin’s easily when you lean into him, and it feels like coming home. 

“it’s not like i have a nice couch you could be sitting on,” changbin mutters as he leaves, shaking his head fondly at the two of you before making himself scarce. 

chan kisses you, cradling your head gently into his hands, and they’re so warm. he slides his lips against yours, slowly like he’s taking his time memorizing the planes of your mouth to commit to memory. even after kissing him dozens of times you still find new things to learn about each other. 

“i swear,” he says, pulling away to meet your eyes. “i’m going to marry you, someday.”

“keep getting me croissants as apologies and we’ll see,” you say, sniffling into his neck. 

—

your eighty seventh date was spent in your bed, your head spinning like both hands on a clock simultaneously and your body exuding more sweat than you ever have. 

chan is wringing out a cool cloth to place on your forehead and it feels so nice that you moan. 

“i’m sorry,” you mutter, and chan has lost count of the amount of times you’ve said it at this point. “we had a date and i ruined it.”

“we were going to see a movie,” he says, running a hand up and down your spine. “and we will. we don’t need a movie theater when we have a screen right here, hmm?” 

“but the popcorn,” you complain, closing your eyes in bliss when he runs a hand through your hair, scratching gently at your scalp. an apology for being so sweaty was at the tip of your tongue but you hold it back in favor of enjoying the feeling of his touch. 

“i’ll make you all the popcorn you want when you’re feeling better,” he promises, dropping a kiss to the side of your head. “for now, how does soup sound?” 

“popcorn soup?“ you ask, a wave of dizziness taking over your body; if you weren’t lying down already, you’re sure that too would be falling over. 

“yeah, baby,” and even in your delirium the fondness in his voice was prominent. he couldn’t hide it even if he tried. “i’ll make you some popcorn soup. get some rest okay?”

you’re asleep before he leaves the room, and you only wake up when he shakes your shoulder a bit and helps you into an upright position. he feeds you bites of what is definitely not popcorn soup after putting a movie on your laptop, the screen sitting at the foot of your bed. the both of you fall asleep before the movie finishes, but you don’t mind. 

he stays with you for days, making you soup and tea and toast and feeding you medicine and being an all-around angel as he nurses you back to health. by the time you’re better you think you’ve fallen back in love with him several times. 

as you had expected and warned him about, he catches your sickness the next week, and now it’s your turn to be his nurse. you try and do the same job he did, but his delirium seems worse. the silver lining is that his fever isn’t as bad, so you’re babysitting a babbling boyfriend more than a sick one. 

the night before his fever breaks is the worst, since he doesn’t even recognize you. you shake your head at his silliness when he asks who you are and calls you pretty. you smile when he takes your hand in his and asks you to come closer. 

you tear up when he tells you that he has a girlfriend that he loves very much and so even though you’re pretty he can’t do anything else because his girlfriend is the prettiest one in the whole world. you let a tear slip when he tells you that he can’t wait to propose to his girlfriend and that he’s going to marry her someday. 

you tell him that you have a boyfriend that you're going to marry someday, trusting that he wouldn’t remember it in the morning. 

—

your hundredth and fifth date was not unlike your fifth, or your tenth, or your ninetieth. two and a half years later, you were just as endeared by him and he was just as obsessed with you - even more so, if it were possible. 

he takes the time to tell you how gorgeous you look when he picks you up just like he does on every date, and you hide your disgustingly fond smile for him behind his back like you do every time you see him. 

he parks and runs around the car to let you out like he does every time you habit this restaurant, a little fancier than your usual best but it was a favorite of the both of yours - across the street from the bar the two of you had met at. 

you start walking before he does, letting him jog to meet you and complain about how you left him, just like you do every time. before him. you might have thought the monotony would have gotten tiring, but he had a fantastical ability to make every moment feel like the first despite their practiced nature. 

he calls your name from behind you right on schedule and you hum in acknowledgement, turning towards him absentmindedly. the second you lay eyes on him you’re completely alert, though; he isn’t jogging after you, but rather he’s kneeling on the sidewalk, a small box in his hands as he smiles up at you. 

“i’ve told you that i’m going to marry you more times than i can count,” he starts, eyes shining like the stars twinkling in the night sky above you. “but this time i’m asking you.”

“chan,” you choke out, hands coming up to cover your mouth as it quivers. tears spring to your eyes and you silently curse yourself - you always thought you’d be level headed when you got proposed to, but nothing could have prepared you for this, not even the thousands of declarations he had made to you prior. 

“i love you. you’re the only one in the entire universe that i need more than blood or breath, you’re the song that runs through my heart and the fire that leads my path when i’m lost,” his voice is thick, like he’s trying to hold back his emotions long enough to get his words out. “i never thought that i would feel so strongly for someone, i never thought that i deserved a love like this until i met you.”

he pauses as you walk closer to him, letting you approach him before he continues. 

“my love, my eternal light,” he’s tearing up now, blinking fast to keep the salty water at bay. “will you marry me?”

“chan,” you start, kneeling down next to him and taking his wrists in your hands. “i never told you this, but ever since that first day i knew. i knew that the drunk idiot that was hitting on me would be my husband.”

he chuckles, smiling delightedly as the tears finally spring from both of your eyes in unison.

“so?” he trails off, searching your face with his eyes, waiting. 

“oh!” you tighten your grip on him in an apology. “of course i’ll marry you, gosh i love you so much.”

[anaargent]

Touch games

Five Hargreeves x Reader

Five Hargreeves slowly turning from a grumpy, grumpy old man into a touch-starved mass. . .

It started with gentle hand touches, initially Five looked confused and ripped his hands from yours as he asked, “What the hell is this?” with a stunned and disgusted expression. “A handshake?” you answer simplistically, removing the hands he had methodically tucked into his coat and grabbing them again. “To maintain your disguise you need to walk closer and less robotic, grandpa, don’t act like you’ve never held a hand in your life.” After a few tries Five got used to walking closer, his hands gently reaching for yours unconsciously, holding them absently as they walked, ensuring you were on the safer side of the street, still with a scowl on his face.

.

After your initial aversion, the quick touches to your hair began - it's messy - you say absently, brushing away some strands that fell on Five's forehead, who had remained silent, eyes wide as he watched you smile when your bangs were finally in place, clearing your throat and letting out a half-strangled "hm, thank you". After that, your fingers automatically fixed Five's hairstyle, smiling proudly at him and leaving after a simple - now you're presentable - never seeing the young man's slight blush on his cheeks and the breath he had held being released in a stunned huff.

.

Five was confused, he considered himself a controlled person, always having total control of his reactions and actions, he wondered why he couldn't prepare himself for every time you came towards him and entered his personal space, what had once been irritation was slowly becoming anticipation. His eyes darted to follow you when you entered the same room, silently hoping that you would come to him to complain about something stupid that your brothers did that irritated you. He found himself listening carefully to every word, noticing the little tics as you released all the frustration of the day and in the end you seemed at peace again.

- Maybe it was the coexistence - Five said to himself, trying to deal with emotions that were certainly not in his life curriculum - I see her every day, I must have gotten used to her nonsense, just like Klaus - he continues to grumble as he searches for his favorite chocolate at the convenience store he had stopped at on the way home - with that loud and annoying voice... that beautiful idiotic smile - he stopped himself, shaking his head in contradiction - no, no, just a stupid smile, nothing pretty!

He hurriedly left the market, with a bag of chocolates in his hand.

.

Five slowly found himself tangled in a spider's web, what was once a cold and centered posture turning into a needy and insatiable teenager. He tried to control himself, tried not to reach for your hand when you were walking close to each other, or not to smile like an idiot when you patted his hair after he was kind to your brothers - finally a good guy - you smiled as you stroked Five's head, so oblivious to the effects you caused, the gears in the boy's mind stopping to turn as I felt a cozy warmth envelop him.

Or so he thought.

You were aware of the reactions and the subtle change in Five, from the nervous smiles, the hands pretending to brush against yours as you walked, his green eyes always chasing yours, the slight tilt every time he was sarcastic and expected a witty response from you, receiving it with a proud smile. You were aware of all of this, and you wanted to see how far you could take that tempting joke, how the touches seemed to feed something dormant in Five and in his always so rigid posture, an overwhelming curiosity to see what could be awakened in him. You didn't expect him to explode so quickly.

At little Grace's party there was a big reunion, the whole family together again. You and Five came together, your hands firmly clasped in Five's, it was almost natural, if it weren't for the small hesitation before the act

- I hope she likes our gift - you sigh nervously, looking at the package that Five carried in his other arm - you picked up the biggest and brightest unicorn in the store, she'll love it - Five offers you a loving smile and a light squeeze of your hand, seeing your relieved expression - do you swear? - I'm sure of it - Five assures as he opens the door for you to enter the party - a gentleman - you smile playfully - only with you - Five answers sarcastically, hiding the butterflies shaking his stomach with a fake cough, taking off his coats and pulling you to where everyone was gathered.

In the middle of the party you ended up moving away from Five and the others, lost in the middle of so many people and children everywhere. The party was almost over, there were balloons on the floor, the balls of lights spinning

- yeah, it's you and me, Bobby - you grumble, sitting at a table away from the center of the party, toasting with the huge blue bear from the decoration that kept you company during the night - maybe I'll give you my cute number your naughty little thing.

- y/n! - Five suddenly appears, with his tie badly tied, his hair a mess - Five? What happened? Is everyone okay? - you get up and go to the man who was on your mind all night, placing your hands on his shoulders. Five relaxed with the touch, feeling the withdrawal that was growing in him ease a little - where were you? - you are shocked when you come across the needy tone in his voice.

Five Hargreeves, the same Five who told you that after so many years in the apocalypse he didn't feel like having any company. He was in front of you with a helpless appearance, his eyes tearing up a little as he sniffed softly - I looked for you all night, Klaus... Klaus said that maybe you were with someone more interesting.

You laugh, what else could you do in those circumstances? After all the games of accidental touches, of approaching as cautiously as possible so that Five wouldn't think you were a threat and accidentally stab you during the night. Was he worried that you had someone else in your life? - Seriously Five? - You smile at him - Who would be as interesting as an old man in the body of an adult who has lived through countless apocalypses?

-I...i- Five tries to think, his mind clouded between insecurities and silly fears, he didn't find himself attractive enough for you to really consider him as an option. The guy had more trust issues than a war veteran - I'm paranoid - he tells him that you're done with it - And? - You ask, waiting for more. - Me - He hesitates a little - I'm controlling, grumpy most of the time, I use sarcasm as a defense mechanism, I have a gun under my pillow because I can't sleep without thinking that we might be attacked during the night. And there would probably be a bomb bunker in the garden.

- It sounds tempting to me - you smile, wrapping your arms around Five's neck - I can deal with underground bunkers and some anti-theft traps in the house - you say, looking thoughtfully at the ceiling. Five freezes, his heart beating like crazy, he was in front of the person he wanted to have the most, and who deserved the least. He was a mess, yet, with everything you saw, you were still in front of him, with a perfectly placed smile on your beautiful face, waiting for something. Waiting for him.

Five then throws the blocks to the wind, maybe he would regret it, maybe he would wake up tomorrow knowing that he pulled you straight into trouble, but you would be there with him. So maybe it wouldn't be so bad. - We-we can have a dog - he says with the shadow of a small smile wanting to leave his lips. - Or two - you say finally pulling him for a kiss.

It was soft, insecure, perhaps a little cautious in the new field you were entering, your lips were warm and soft, and they moved slowly, your hands snaking through Five's hair, while he brought his hands to your hips, pulling you closer. Becoming bolder, you deepen the kiss, your tongue invading Five's mouth, the taste of liquor filling your mind, while everything seemed more intense and intense. When you finally pull away to take a deep breath, Five's eyes are already searching yours, his angelic eyes had a mischievous glint, something hungry lurking in the innocent features on his face. His hands are still wrapped around your waist, not letting you go that far

- can we go home? - he asks in a husky, thick voice. The sound causes a tremor in your body, the anticipation of the indirect suggestion filling your chest - I thought you would never invite me - you respond by pulling him into another passionate kiss while letting out a mischievous chuckle

[charliemwrites]

Part 3 for Nikto with his… handler? Living god? Owner? Who knows, certainly not the reader.

Content: Sexual Desire (Wet Dreams), Codependency, Mild Injury/Violence, Mentions of Dissociation

Snuggle in, you tell him. Every night, clockwork, a signal to calm, settle, rest. Leave the blood and bone of the day behind.

Like he’s not a man who barely remembers he’s alive most days. Like he doesn’t turn to you blooming human, a plant to sunlight. All because you tell him to.

Snuggle in, you bid, tugging at his thick bicep. Your fingers don’t even curl halfway around it. He’s huge, even without all the gear. Or maybe because he's out of his gear.

Snuggle in, you coo. A guilty part of you preens at the way his head cocks at that turn of phrase. He never hesitates to climb into the bed you’ve shared since he made himself yours. There’s really no choice but to snuggle on such a small mattress, but he still lets you move him, teddy bear-like, to the most comfortable position.

“You’re warm,” you hum, because he needs to remember his heart is beating, pumping blood. That he’s not a corpse.

“Too warm?” He asks.

“No,” you sigh happily.

He lies on his side tonight, always between you and the door. You pluck at the front of his t-shirt, urging him closer, away from the edge of the bed. It feels like you’re constantly coaxing him away from an edge. He always comes willingly at least.

His heavy arm drapes across your waist, as robotic as a cuddle can be. You don’t mind, he’s still getting used to this. Knows how to provide you comfort but not how to take it in for himself. He'll settle, you know, always does. Virtues of sleep melting all his harsh, rigid lines.

You wrap both your legs around one of his. Rock-like muscle flexes, twitches, settles. He’s wearing just his underwear and a t-shirt; he’s hard again.

You understand why he said no. Aren’t even all that disappointed. Not for your own sake, anyway. For his, perhaps a little. Wish he’d treat his body with more than just obligation, but small steps. One at a time. For now, you’ve got him here, warm, his breaths already lengthening in preparation to sleep.

You stroke your hand along his ribs like soothing a horse. It’s more for yourself than him, a silent affirmation that you’re both here and safe and bedding down for the night. Count the bumps of scars - one… two-three, four… and five. Five-and-a-half at his hip.

His cock twitches against your lower stomach. It feels thick. Big. You squeeze his hip and tuck your arm between your bodies again.

“Were you ever ticklish?” you ask.

“No.”

You snort in amusement and press your forehead to his chest. Feel his heart beating slow-steady. Always so, so calm. Inhumanly so. You never fall into the trap of letting yourself think he’s anything but a man.

“What do you want to dream about tonight?” you pipe up again.

You don’t know why you’ve started asking this. Maybe to remind him that he’s not dying for a short while. Maybe to figure out something of his mind, still so unfathomable to you. Maybe just to get his voice in your ear as one last nightcap.

“Winter,” he answers. “Snow.”

You make a soft noise. “I think I want to dream of that too.”

You do dream of winter, and snow. You dream of green-black trees and swathes of frost crystal. And you dream of Nikto. A smudge of black with ice chips for eyes.

You reach for him, drag him down to a pillow of snow with you. Even in sleep, he yields for you, doughy and soft. Drapes himself over you, clucking about the temperature until you shush him with kisses snuck between his shirt and mask. You press and pull, want him close, want him...

"Are you alright?"

You blink into the darkness, at ice chip eyes and a patchwork jaw of scars and stubble. Nikto's mouth is pressed thin, worried. A canine peaks out from a scar that healed poorly despite your best efforts, skin tugged back into a permanent little snarl. His canines always look so sharp.

"You were... having nightmare?" He drops articles when he’s tired. You must have woken him. Part of you despairs at ruining his sleep; he gets so little of it.

You lick your dry lips, swallow past an equally dry throat. There's a noticeable stickiness between your thighs. A needy ache throughout your pelvis. You're nearly shaking.

"Um," you rasp, rubbing at your face. "Not a... it was just intense."

His brow furrows a bit. This tiny line that emphasizes a jagged mark over his forehead. You trace over it absently, nearly grind down on his thigh again when you see how his pupils dilate further.

"Alright?" he asks again. Always so worried. So expressive with you, for you.

"Yeah, I'm okay," you sit up slowly, carefully. He sits back with you, eyes sharp as he looks for injuries, as if someone snuck in and attacked you while he slept. "Just need a drink."

He makes room for you to climb out of bed. You wish you could grab a spare pair of underwear on your way, but you can feel his eyes burning on your back. Don't want him to feel... pressured? Awkward? You swallow your lust and stumble into the bathroom.

A cold splash of water shocks you more awake but also cools your blood.

It’s been a long time since you got yourself off. Nikto all but lives in your pocket now; and whenever you do have privacy, you’re usually too tired to bother with getting off. Some days it’s all you can do to brush your teeth before collapsing in bed.

Not right now though. Right now you want to do sinful things to the man who’s entrusted you with his fragile psyche.

Fuck.

You rub at your eyes, discard of your soaked panties in the hamper. You’ll grab a new pair in the morning and just spend the rest of the night commando.

When you climb into bed again, Nikto is still wide awake, waiting for your return. You crawl in with him, chilled now.

“Better?” He asks, almost hesitant.

The heat of him seeps into you like honey, a sweet drizzle down your spine, diffusing through your bones. Sleep is already dragging at you again.

“Mhm,” you sigh. You don’t wrap your legs around him this time. But you can’t help hooking your calf around his, ankles locked together.

“Alright,” he whispers, almost to himself.

You hum, fingers curling loose around his wrist. “Settle in, Nikto. I’m okay.”

You fall asleep with your head against his tricep. This time you dream of nesting birds.

—

Anger, like most strong emotion, is something you thought a bit beyond Nikto. Not that he doesn’t feel it, more that the dissociation mutes it all. Makes it into something vague in his mind, a vivid color desaturated to pastel.

You were wrong. Or maybe you’re right in every other instance except this one.

The circumstances brew up a storm like so:

Kortac has sent you (and by default, Nikto) with a small team to yet another military base. Mundane by all accounts.

You and Nikto bunk together, also by default. (“Snuggle in,” you chide as he glares at the door. It’s not your door; it’s not your base. It makes him twitchy. It even seems like he hesitates for a moment before climbing in.)

You, by virtue of being novel and shiny and discouraged, are viewed as a tempting commodity. Think you even hear one of the men you’re supposed to be working with mutter “dibs” to someone else. Also pretty mundane.

What is not mundane is someone seeing Nikto at your side and apparently thinking, that’s a place I want to insert myself uninvited.

The clouds roll in at the gym. You’re setting up the squat rack while Nikto finishes up his last set of pull-ups. (You’re trying not to ogle. You might be failing.)

Someone sidles up to behind you, just in the corner of your eye. Standing closer than a perfect stranger should. You think it’s Aksel and turn, wondering if he’s already done with cardio. Instead, you find a man you’re only mildly acquainted with.

You’ve run some drills with him, saw him in a briefing two days ago. But you’re generally so wrapped up in the microcosm you and Nikto have formed that you don’t even remember his name.

“Need a spotter?” He asks, smiling.

You shift your weight back, trying to put more distance between you two. It’s strange. Nikto stands even closer than he is on a regular basis and you’d feel bereft if he didn’t. But this… feels invasive.

“No, I have someone,” you reply, perfectly polite. “But thank you.”

“Ah, you mean the Nobody?” The man chuckles. You clench your teeth. “Someone else ought to get a turn, no? Your teammates said you are not romantic.”

You frown. Whatever they said, you’re sure that was not the verbatim answer. You don’t know what you and Nikto are — it’s something that defies any language you know. But it’s certainly beyond “romantic”.

(Waking deep in the night, sweating and panting and aching for the man already awake, worried for you. Dreams plagued with pale blue eyes and scars that still ache. Phantom sensations of skin that only breathes in the safety of your room.)

“No,” you answer, “Nikto is my partner.”

A shadow passes behind him, Nikto returning to your side, faithful as always. His eyes don’t even flick towards the other man.

The man, however, locks eyes on him and sneers.

“What, does your guard dog bite?” He mocks. “You don’t owe it anything just because it humps your leg.”

Your temper flares, white hot and mean. “The only dog here is the one yapping for attention.”

Anger ripples across his face, he tenses like he’s going to move. The start of some derogatory name on his tongue.

And then between one blink and the next, he’s on the floor and Nikto is standing over him. Metal flashes beneath the lights; a wicked knife held in Nikto’s tight fist. The man isn’t getting back up any time soon though, he’s bleeding from… somewhere on his face. You can’t tell with the way he’s covering it.

“Knife away,” you tell Nikto quietly.

It’s gone in an instant.

You hook two fingers in a chest strap and tug. “We’re done in here.”

He follows you out, silent as ever. Follows without question or complaint until you stop between buildings. Let out a sigh.

“Fuck that guy,” you huff, running a hand down your face.

“I could still gut him,” he offers.

You’d laugh if you didn’t know he meant it wholeheartedly.

“He deserves it for what he said about you,” you mutter.

Nikto cocks his head, stares. Doesn’t understand, you realize.

You shake off the last of your ire and turn your full attention to him. Step in close and take his gloved hand in both of yours. The same one that had held the knife. There’s a little smear of blood on the knuckles.

“I don’t know what anyone says about me,” you explain. “You know who I am, and that’s all that matters.”

His eyes bounce between yours, something stunned in smooth skin around his eyes. You smile a bit.

“But what I won’t abide is anyone trying to take your humanity from you. Not ever again, you hear me?”

He mask moves like he wants to speak, but no sound comes out. You wait a moment to see if he’s just picking his words, but nothing comes. After a long moment, he just blinks, and you continue.

“You protect me, right?” He nods instantly. You tilt your head. “Well, I take care of you. You let me decide how to do that, yeah?”

His voice comes out shredded. “Yes.”

You hum, pleased. “C’mon, let’s get a bite to eat.”

First | Previous | Next

Masterlist

[natalievoncatte]

Alex slowed her breathing, finally. She was okay. Kara was okay. Her sister was okay. There was a lot for her to think about after the last few days but right now all that mattered was that she was sitting on Kara’s couch holding a beer, just relaxing with her sister and the two cold ones she’d already slammed back.

Alex stretched out her legs and put her feet on the table. Things were going good. This Children of Liberty were getting mopped up, Kara was… Kara seemed okay, she had a date with Jimmy (James! *James!*) Olsen’s hot sister that she had a feeling was going places, and it looked like the next few weeks or months would settle into a run of the mill routine of alien mop-ups and bank robberies, while Kara was in the running for a Pulitzer.

Alex sighed, contentedly, and then Kara popped up from the couch and said “Lena’s in the hallway.”

Alex smiled secretly to herself.

“Go get ‘er,” she said, stifling a burp. “Tiger.”

Kara shot back an odd look, and Alex wondered when she’d figure it out herself.

After all, filling an office with flowers was not a romantic gesture. Nor were the saves and hugs and little forehead touches. Alex and Nia had talked about starting a betting pool. Shit, there were rumors in the press.

It seemed that Lena and Kara were the only two people in the world that didn’t realize that dropping almost a billion dollars on a whim for someone is not what friends are fucking for.

Kara rushed to the door and yanked it open.

Lena stood in the hallway looking shellshocked and shaken, eyes wide and trembling. Kara half-lifted, half ushered her inside and slammed the door.

“Lena?” she said. “Lena what is it, what’s wrong?”

Alex sobered up in an instant -mostly- and was on her feet. She saw the bulge in the pocket of Lena’s hoodie and fixed her eyes on it. Lena seemed to remember that she had something in there and pulled out a gun.

“Lena?!” Kara chirped.

Alex’s hand flew to the nonexistent holster on her hip; she’d locked her gun in a drawer when she started with the beer. She caught herself, scolded herself. Lena was a friend. To Kara she was more than a friend.

Alex rushed forward instead. Lena didn’t resist as Alex took the gun, a brightly polished and valuable classic Colt Python six shot with a chopped barrel and coco bolo wood stocks, a real high end custom job. A rich girl’s gun, if a bit bigger than a girl would normally carry.

“Whoa, you have a permit for this?” Alex said, trying to be cute.

“I shot Lex.”

Kara tensed, rushing from behind Lena, dipping down as she put her hands on the other woman’s shoulders.

Oh fuck.

“You couldn’t have,” said Lena. “I… it was me, when we fought in Sentinel Island.”

“He used this,” said Lena, pulling her hand out of her pocket with a watch in her fingers. “It’s a portal watch. He can teleport with it.”

“He must have had it as a backup,” said Alex. “Teleported out before impact.”

Kara shot her a shocked look.

“What do you mean?” said Kara, “What do you mean you shot him?”

“Two to the chest, one to the head,” Lena repeated, robotically. “We want ‘em alive but we’ll take ‘em dead. Lex taught me when I was twelve.”

“Lena,” Alex said, as she flicked open the cylinder and saw there were three shells left in the gun. “You’re not making sense.”

Lena looked at her.

“I knew where he’d go. I knew what he’d do. So I got there first. I was going to stop him, make sure that he didn’t get away, then call for help. I didn’t want to do it. He made me.”

“Lena,” Kara began.

Lena looked at her and Alex tensed.

Kara wasn’t wearing her glasses.

Oh shit.

“He was going to kill you. You were becoming his latest fixation. He couldn’t get to Superman so he’d get you. I tried to stop him but I was too late.”

“Me? Why would he care about me?” said Kara. “I’m nobody.”

Lena stared at her, looking directly into her eyes.

“You’re Supergirl.”

Alex almost dropped the gun. She gaped at Lena, open-mouthed. Kara’s eyes went wide and panic shocked through her face.

Alex waited for the excuse, the denial, the deflection.

“Yes,” said Kara. “I am. I’m sorry. I was going to tell you, I swear I was,” her voice cracked and began to waver. “I know I lied. I,”

Lena grabbed the collar of Kara’s sweater, and when she pulled, Alex briefly thought that she was lunging in to kiss Kara. Instead she pulled her into a hug and Kara hugged her back, fiercely and protectively. Alex stood there dumbly with the murder weapon hanging from her hand.

“I was too late. I’m sorry. I was too late.”

“Too late for what?” Alex demanded, panic rising hot in her chest. “Too late for what, Lena?”

Still tucked in Kara’s arms, Lena turned her head and looked at Alex.

“He already did it. Turn on the TV.”

Alex swallowed, hard.

She walked over to the coffee table and grabbed the remote, turning off Netflix and switching back to cable.

She didn’t have to flip channels. It was on every station. Every network. Alex and Kara’s phones were buzzing wildly on the table.

“Oh shit,” said Alex.

***

Should I continue this one?

[r0tting-rat]

DCA PROMPTOBER 2024

Skipped day 3 because I'm weak. Also omg I did NOT expect so many people to like my promptober.

Day 4 - Bells

Pairing: Yandere!Moon x Gender Neutral Reader Warning: Suggestive Words: 1800~ Summary: It's naptime, and Moon is a teasing little shit.

Naptime was a very special moment at the Superstar Daycare, and not just because it was the time when the Attendant Moon came out of his “slumber”, but also because it was the only time when silence fell into the daycare. You clocked in, in the morning, and the upbeat tune of the daycare would already be playing in the background, unstopping until naptime. When it was time the lights would begin to dim, the music would slowly fade away, the Attendant Sun would say goodbye to all his friends and the calm, collected and peaceful Moon would emerge.

As every other day, from behind the security desk, you watched as the nightly animatronic coaxed kids to sleep, singing lullabies, reading stories, covering them in soft smiles and kind whispers. Already smiling, you watched the crouching robot standing up to his full height after putting the last kid to sleep, slowly turning to look at you with his bright red eyes. As always, he would walk closer to you, hands behind his back and a grin on his face, and you would observe his demeanor change. With the kids Moon was gentle, but with you the naptime attendant showed his other face. Vicious, mean, playful and teasing.

-Hi, Shooting Star,- he murmured, -Good to see you.-

-Hi to you too, Moonie.- You smiled up at him, already knowing you were in for a long, long hour of constant flirting.

-Had any dreams about me tonight?- asked the animatronic, resting his hands on the desk on either side of you, as a way of caging you in. Already used to it, you didn’t let yourself feel intimidated like the first time. Moon had gotten quite the crush on you and everyone equipped with eyes would have been able to notice it. He didn't really care about hiding his love from the eyes of the public.

-Maybe. What about you? Did I visit you in your sleep?- You knew animatronics couldn’t dream, and that was exactly the reason why you had asked such a question in the first place. The grin on Moon’s flat face became bigger.

-You know that I constantly and always think about you, my sweet,- he cooed, leaning closer to you, like he wanted to go in for a kiss, -You plague my every thought, you are everywhere I look. I close my eyes and still see your beautiful smile embellishing my memory.-

You inched your face closer to Moon’s with half-lidded eyes, parting your lips and breathing a deep sigh, but exactly when the robot shuddered and tried to close the distance you stood up, pulling away. You smirked, hearing him groan in frustration after being fooled once more.

-What a tease,- he complained, clutching his chest, -Tempting me with something you’re not willing to give me!-

-You’re welcome,- you laughed, leaving the safe space behind the desk and beginning to walk towards the closest arts & craft table. You sat on top of it, and in less than a blink you had Moon kneeling at your feet. The bells sang in the empty daycare as he swiftly moved, literally falling for you with a soft thud muffled by the mats under him. His huge, clawed but gentle hands rested on your knees, prying them just slightly apart so he could sloth himself between them, then rested his head in your lap. You caressed his fluffy sleeping cap, like you would do with a cat, and immediately the robot began to purr something alike to a melodic motif.

-Why must you torture me this way?- Moon begged you, sounding hurt, but you knew better than to fall for one of his tricks. -You hold me, you caress me, whisper sweet nothings and then throw me away! You leave me unkissed.-

Moon shifted so he could look up at you from his position in your lap, and the look he had in his eyes made you tremble. A shiver ran up, from the base of your spine to the back of your neck, making goosebumps rise on your arms and shoulders. Moon stared at you with such intensity, with so much longing, like he could follow the patterns the goosebumps formed on your skin from under your clothes. Under his gaze you were always defenseless, naked.

-You leave me wanting, darling,- he spoke, voice so deep you felt it in your stomach, -Desiring, starving, begging.-

Two claw-tipped hands came to place themselves around your waist, and you gasped. Moon had never gone that far with you, he had never looked at you in that way before. Was he at his breaking point? Had you pulled the string too taunt?

-Will you ever give me what I so desire?-

You wanted to give in so much, you wanted to say it. “Yes, yes! I will!” You wanted to lean down, cup his face in your hands and kiss him, but you were scared. No, you were terrified. Of what? Of not being able to stop. You feared it would become a drug to you, addictive, because Moon had that effect on you. Each time his hands left yours you felt cold and alone, and such solitude could only be healed by his contact. You were scared that, if you did kiss him, all your repressed emotions would surface and you wouldn't be able to pull away ever again.

-Only when you prove yourself deserving of my love,- you replied, pretending like your insides weren’t in complete turmoil.

-What do you want me to do?- asked Moon, and in his voice you could feel all his desperation. That robot, who was far, far stronger than you could imagine and more than capable of doing harm, looked like he was ready to maim and kill for you. He had the eyes of someone willing to rip out one of his own arms with no hesitation if you ordered him to do so, and yet you couldn’t understand the power you were holding in your hands. The little jester was dancing in your palm, mindlessly joking, flirting and courting, but at the smallest order he could become a beast terrible enough to be feared by humans and robots alike.

-I dunno,- you shrugged, -As soon as I think about it I’ll let you know.-

Cuddles had become a part of naptime ever since you had gotten hired at the plex. Moon didn’t even know he was that touch starved before meeting you, but ever since he saw you he had felt a growing urge inside of him which he couldn’t place. He had fallen for you, quickly and hard, and as soon as your hands caressed his face for the first time electricity sparked in his wires. He was touch starved. Heavy on “starved”, mainly because just seeing you left him hungry for more.

As you caressed his nightcap you eyes noticed something unusual in Moon’s clothes. One of the red ribbons tied around his wrists was loose, and the bells were chiming in distress, like begging you to save them. You grabbed Moon’s hand and brought it closer to you, which caused his smug expression to return to his face.

-If you wanted to hold my hand so badly you could have just asked, Nightlight,- he purred, but his expression quickly changed when he noticed his little problem, -Oh.-

He attentively watched as you untied the ribbon without saying a word, gentle, leaving his wrist naked and bare. The sight of it was unusual, new, and somewhat… No, you couldn’t think that, it was just a wrist. The bells jingled happily in your hands as you slowly wrapped the ribbon again around Moon’s lithe wrist, careful and attentive, tying it into a pretty knot. All the while, the jester looked at you wide-eyed. Your eyes met, and his fans kicked on.

-Sorry, my bells tend to slip away,- the robot joked, -One wrong move and they’re gone.-

-You should be more careful then, if you don't want to lose them,- you said, not letting go of his hand yet, -Tie them tightly to you.-

-I will,- he nodded, -I never intend to let them go, I’m just… I don’t want to risk damaging them.-

You and him weren’t talking about bells anymore, were you?

-You’re a very kind robot, did you know that, Moon?- you smiled, squeezing his hand in yours. The soft padding of his palms was warm against your skin, a strong contrast with his cold and sharp claws that were resting on your forearm, with how long they were. Ever since Moon got those upgrades, meant to help with his security job, he had learned to be careful with his hands. He cradled children, he held them and lulled them to sleep, he couldn’t allow them to get hurt because he couldn’t control his own hands! Also, he didn’t want to hurt you, his dearest flower.

-I thought I was a mischievous bastard?- Moon laughed, but he returned serious again when you rolled your eyes. -...Thank you.-

Your eyes looked so pretty in the dark, they were so bright he could see his image mirrored in them. He wasn’t joking when he called you his shooting star. You brightened his night.

Your faces were so close, your nose was almost touching Moon’s faceplate. This time you were the one who began to lean in, slowly closing the distance between you and him, until your parted lips brushed against his heated silicone. So warm, so close, so close.

-Mr Moon?- a child yawned, beginning to get up from her little bed, -I had a bad dream!-

Immediately, you and Moon both gasped, parting from one another like you had been burned. The animatronic’s red optics ran swiftly between your blushing face and the child, not knowing who to prioritize as the heat inside his chassis subdued.

He had gotten so close to kissing you, so, so close. You were right there, he could still…!

-Mr Moon?-

No, he had a job, he had to stick to the rules, as much as he desired something else. Apologetic, he looked at you and sighed.

-Sorry, Nightlight,- he said, beginning to stand back up, -I have to go.-

-Wait.- You spoke hurriedly, like you were scared courage could leave you. Surprised, Moon turned back around.

-Is something wro…?-

In the dark of the daycare, kept hidden by voyeuristic eyes and in the comfort of one another, you grabbed the jester by the frill around his waist, pulling him close with all the strength you had. Your face was burning, your whole world was burning, nothing existed beside you and him, so before Moon could even understand what you were doing your lips crushed against his, and you kissed him.

Should I mention that the entire time I was writing this I pictured @xitsensunmoon's Moon? I'm sorry I just. I love him. (Hope you don't mind the tag jshdjd)

[kalims]

ㅤoh, face in the daylight.

— azul isn't sure if you're dating him, or his bed. also he's totally gonna deduct jade's pay.

your boyfriend's bed is comfy.

very, comfy. you're not sure if you're staying over for the nth' time for him or, the mere comfort his strange liquid-y bed brings you.

you asked once and honest grew more obsessed with it once he told you that it is actually made of water, of course sprinkled with a simple reinforcememt spell to make sure that it doesn't spill or split it half.

"it feels like where I used to sleep." he had answered shortly. "you just miss your pot, don't you?"

he explodes in an embarrassed hue of pink.

well to be fair he stopped sleeping around inside of it just because he wanted to sleep with you. (of course he didn't say it to your face but you're about 99% confident about it.)

azul sighs deeply. if he had ears and a tail to represent his feelings they'd have drooped to the ground. "my goodness... at this point I'll just have a room prepared here for you." but he smiles lightly at you, standing across the feet of the bed where you lay. you don't know if you're just being crazy but he puts of sleeping next to you whenever he can.

you swear! the last time you forcibly kidnapped him from his desk and dragged him in the bed he turned a vibrant hue of red, tense and unmoving.

you roll around his bed. "but I want to sleep with you."

azul makes this... kind of sound in his throat, a mix of a babble getting cut off and a gurgle of sorts. he immediately falls silent and looks down, he has to bite his wobbling lips lest he actually explodes. it might be easy for you to say so easily but just the notion that you feel the same sends a thousand of flutters in his stomach, everywhere to the point where he feels like he's floating.

the silence makes you concerned apparently because you raise your head from the myriad of fluffy covers and pillows to take a peek at him. "what?"

he coughs and assumes a smile too quick to be real. you've seen it a handful of times but you're not sure why his eyes and the edges of his mouth seem to be twitching. is he hot? because there's some kind of smoke coming out of his ears and fogging his glasses.

... for you it's quite freezing, maybe merman have different perception of temperature?

"by the way," you start. "do you have a spotify?"

you watch azul stumble in his steps as he makes his way to his desk, stopping to seemingly support himself before he falls down by gripping the table, and the top of his chair. he looks at you sort of... robotically. "why?" he queries quickly, looking away.

"I have one too, I wanna see what kind of music you're listening to." you say, fiddling with the sheet of a pillow and azul sighs. "no I do—"

you both turn to the door when it creaks open and jade steps in with a maniacally wide grin. which is almost never really that good, azul's face immediately grimaces at hardens at the admittedly unwelcome surprise visit.

or jade knows something—

"pardon my intrusion," he apologizes despite coming inside all the way. atleast he closed the door. he sees you on the bed and gives you a polite smile. "azul, your phone had shut off due to low battery so the music stopped." jade sighs. "could you open it so we can resume? the guests must be bored.."

you stare curiously. "oooo... where does azul listen?" jade slowly snaps his neck to look at you. (... he looks kind of pleased like everything he just said went to plan.) "where else? the ever popular spotify application."

azul directs a heap of fiery, sharp stare to jade that burns brighter everytime jade utters a word but the latter skillfully ignores it, he's probably received this kind of treatment already. jade knows the password to my phone even though he didnt ask, and my phone was charging while connected to the bluetooth. azul thinks.

this fool was definitely listening to your conversation.

"azul," you look at him. "give it to me."

he sighs deeply through his nose and gives jade a look that says 'get out'. jade grins at him, shrugging but ultimately going out when he's decided that he's caused enough chaos in azul's life for today. somehow he'll have to say no in the face of you despite the last time he did was... more than months ago...

to be fair you're hard to decline! he's totally not whipped or anything. whatever floyd described him, it's completely false.

he's gonna have to add more locks but knowing that tweel, if there's something to achieve inside he's getting in no matter what.

reluctantly he gives out his embarrassing user and you comment about his profile is you.

"did you make a playlist about me?" you quip curiously, idly scrolling around the list of songs in it and laughing to yourself. a contrast to your obvious amusement, azul looks mortified.

didn't he make those private?!

'if you see the unlocked icon it means it's only accessible for you.'

... that bastard jade ...

"awww.... you even put taylor swift in here! I knew I chose the right boyfriend!"

"what the—give me that!" he screeches, red.

what did you mean by that?! were there other options?! -> overthinking

[itsa-me-lily]

Hi hello, here’s a list of more Simon & Thimble playlist

And here's the Military Program Spouse AU list

This is based off of the suffering I’ve experienced at my own stupid choices.

Content warning;

Baby noises, idea of the supernatural, medical/disease discussion

Simon Riley, military lieutenant and member of the elite 141, had experienced the horrors of the world enough to fill at least half a dozen lifetimes. He knew what lurked in the shadows, waiting to snatch any form of life it could get its claws into. He knew what to expect from the world.

And yet he never expected to wake up in a fucking horror movie. Because why was he violently yanked from the edge of sleep by the sounds of a crying baby. As far as he was aware, there were no babies in this household, the…rodents not withstanding. But there it was, the sound of an infant crying rang through the house, so either you decided to partake in a late night kidnapping, or his new house was haunted. There was a possibility that the years of buried guilt and PTSD had finally caused Simon to lose his grip on reality, but he would always choose to disregard that possibility until he absolutely couldn’t.

So his brand new house was fucking haunted by an upset baby.

Simon didn’t know how to solve his brand new house being haunted by a god damn baby. Before he could debate his choices of an exorcist or simply ignoring the problem and hoping it chose to bother someone else, the sound was cut off mid cry. It was sudden and the muffled sounds of the pull out bed adjusting to a shift of weight filled the void the crying had left. Whatever was happening must not have been that frightening because a few squeaks followed what sounded like the shuffling of feet. Those not rats either had no sense of self preservation, or were the bravest god damn creatures on the planet.

Gettin up from bed he hovered by the closed bedroom door, slipping on his medical mask while trying to hear what was further going on. He heard you hush your pets, though what you were saying wasn’t discernible. There was more shuffling and grumblings, and he cracked the door open when the sound of a light switch clicked into the night. The living room was empty, the pull out showing all signs that you had been there once.

Sweeping his gaze he found you in the kitchen, hunched over the sink, the single overhead light there bathing you in the only ring of light in the darkness. You were fiddling with something in your hands, the only clues as to what the popping of a cap, a little robotic beep, and a click of something. He watched as you squeezed a finger and then tapped something against it. He was already through the living room and entering the kitchen when you stuck the offending finger into your mouth, staring down at the little device in your hand like it had personally affronted you.

In the daytime hours Simon would deny any satisfaction at seeing you jump upon realizing you weren’t alone in the kitchen. But it wasn’t daytime hours and Simon couldn’t help but feel a little smirk tug at his lips when your head had whipped up to look at him, he shouldn’t have to be the only one dealing with spooks in the night.

After what was, for all intents and purposes, a silent showdown, Simon nodded to your hands, his questions rumbling through his chest.

Diabetes.

You had explained that you were a diabetic, and the system you used to automatically monitor your glucose levels audibly alerted you if your levels decided to take a nose dive. Which would mean checking it manually. Okay that was fine. Another detail he would have known if he had actually chosen to read your file. He wouldn’t judge you for that. He would, however, judge you for choosing a baby crying as your alert noise. Sure it was affective at getting your attention, but he didn’t have to question the possible possession of ghost babies too.

He couldn’t help but glare up at the ceiling as he laid back in bed, pretty confident he wasn’t getting back to sleep anytime soon. Yes he knew staring at a screen was not helpful to falling asleep. Yes he was searching up facts about diabetes management. No he wasn’t worried about you or anything. He just liked being prepared.

He did have the fleeting thought about if he still had your file floating around somewhere on base though. Maybe taking a peek through it wasn’t the worst idea.

Edit

Listen the baby crying is very effective for getting your attention in the middle of the night, doesn’t mean it’s not disorienting as fuck. I hope you enjoy and as always feel free to send in an ask or something

[bloodchapell]

he loves to hear you yap - armin a.

brief summary: just thinking about how cute armin is and him loving to listen to EVERY word you say

what to expect: alt and very nerdy reader, equally nerdy armin, mutual pinning

your sword’s note: really just thinking of how attentive and good of a listener he would be and I ACHE for it. all past and future parts of this au series available in my mistresslist

A month or so had passed since the semester started. Normally after philosophy class you would go to the library with Armin. He had convinced you to play Minecraft and you had convinced him to play Dress to Impress.

“Agh!!!” You screamed and turned off your iPad.

“Shut the hell up!” Pieck, your roommate, yelled at you.

“Sorry I forgot that not all of us have to wake up at 6 am to deliver a calf…” You apologized and she sighed.

“I will say the same when you are trying to finish up some jacket or whatever it is that fashion designers do.” She joked half asleep. “Why did you scream either way? The Sleeping Beauty nightmare again?”

“That is a very serious nightmare!” You argued. “No it wasn’t that, Armin just gifted me VIP in Dress to Impress…”

“That is so cute… now get married and let me go back to sleep, that 75 pound baby calf isn’t going to deliver itself.”

<WHATTT THANKS MIN😭> you. 2:47 am

<YPU DIDNT HAVE TO YOURE SO SWEET> you. 2:47 am

<It’s okay! I just really liked your vkei theme outfit and was very conflicted when seeing that you didn’t win… They really should made an “only pros” server, these people do not know what vkei is.> armin 👼🏼. 2:48 am

That made you laugh. He had only learned about vkei the day before, when you guys hanged out and he asked what vkei entailed.

After some more rounds of playing, you decided it was time to go to sleep, you said good night to Armin and left the electronics in the table by your bed. But before you could actually fall asleep your mind stared thinking about Armin. The wandering thoughts regarding the blonde would fall like a current that cannot be stopped, the way in which his hands would softly write in his notebook and his handwriting was so small and dainty, the way in which his slender fingers would hold the black pen, the way he would always pay attention and participate in class, his comments always so educated, organized and concise, like he had some inside knowledge and some inside understanding about it all; yes he was a little timid regarding social interactions, but when it came to scholarly matters, he was an eminence and his words would flow out of his pretty plump pale pink lips like it was just any other topic. He was so smart and so attractive when rambling about the ambiguity of morals and religion and science and politics, his bangs and longish hair framing his face and his lashes deepening the gaze of his eyes. Goddamnit was he handsome.

“Is Malice Mizer not on Spotify?” With his phone in hand Armin asked in class the next day, following like a robot Eren’s recommendations on how to behave normally when having such a fat crush.

“How do you know that?” You asked whispering in class.

“I liked the songs you showed me.” He mentioned still holding his phone. Your heart almost ran out of your chest when hearing that; not only he he understood vkei fashion to know that the fellow Dress to Impress players were ass, but was also interested in it beyond what you had explained.

And he was interested, not only because he would have the opportunity to have a topic of conversation with you, but because he trusted in your judgement so much that he understood that if you liked vkei as a subculture, it was for a valid and good reason and therefore he must check it out.

“Yeah sadly they are not in Spotify… I can recommend you some other bands if you want though.” You said and he nodded immediately, saying he would be delighted. You typed Sito Magus, SHAZNA, Gulu Gulu, Kaya and MEJIBRAY on his notes app. “Some of them can be a little heavy, I don’t know if you like that.”

“I don’t mind.” He smiled sweetly; he didn’t really mind because he was used to Eren and Mikasa blasting death black evil obscure metal.

Armin was trying his absolute best to not dissolve into a mass of anxiety and embarrassment, he kept thinking about every recommendation Eren gave him and even though sometimes it seemed like nothing he could do was powerful enough to mask his feelings, he trusted logic and knew that up to a point it could work.

"You said you had a playlist with all your favorite songs ever right? Can we listen to them together while you explain to me why you like them maybe?" He asked impulsively without stopping to think, almost immediately regretting the request before seeing your eyes glimmering like eyes do in cartoons and seeing you nod. Truth be told he was also fascinated with the way you spoke about your interests, you were so passionate and analytic of the things you liked that he could be convinced to do almost anything if you described it like you do with the things you love.

So after class you invite him to your dorm and you both sit on the carpeted floor while you go over every song and he listens to your comments and tries to hear the songs as beautifully as you do.

[chishiyasleftnut]

Hi! („• ֊ •„) This is a long one (divided into two parts), inspired by various bots from Cherubin on Character AI. I hope you’ll enjoy it!!

Stuck With You (part 2)

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤 Warnings: Smut. Pairing: Chishiya x fem!reader.

Plot: After getting separated from Arisu and the others when the King of Spades attacked, Chishiya and fem!reader camps out together on the outskirts of Tokyo.

Part 1 word count: 2000. (Click here to read!) Part 2 word count: 2793. Part 3 word count: 3088. (Click here to read!) 🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

Drip, drip, drip

You must have cursed yourself when you rejoiced in the lack of rain earlier that day, because when night hit it was once more pouring down. The constant sound of rain hitting the thin, waterproof fabric of the tent, which at this point had been keeping you awake for hours, seemed to have no end.

Perhaps it was the fact that the small two-man tent Chishiya had found at a deserted convenience store (they really sell everything, huh?) was not exactly the best quality, doing little to keep the cold out and heat in that kept you from dozing off. At least it was dry. All things considered, dry was heaps better than wet.

Just as you had decided to close your eyes to at least rest a bit, a loud bang disturbed you as thunder rang through the forest. Instinctively, you grabbed Chishiya’s hand out of fear, not even realising what you had done. Chishiya, who had otherwise been sleeping soundly through the storm, woke up at the sudden contact but didn’t pull his hand away.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, still half asleep as he rubbed his eyes with his free hand.

Not wanting to admit that thunder had scared you, you lied. “Nothing.”

Even in the pitch-black darkness, you could sense the growing grin on Chishiya’s lips. Although he was sleepy, nothing could stop him from being a mild dick to you at every chance possible.

“Then why are you holding my hand?”

Your hand immediately recoiled from his as if he was toxic, instead placing it on your chest.

“I wasn’t.”

“Come on, I’m not stupid. I know what I felt.”

“You felt nothing, okay?”

The sound of Chishiya amusedly huffing air out of his nose filled your ears, but to your surprise he didn’t say anything else for a while. Somehow that was even worse, leaving you no distraction from the terrible feeling of embarrassment that spread from your chest and all the way out to your fingertips.

“It was kinda nice, though,” Chishiya finally said casually, his tone not sounding like a joke.

Your head snapped towards his only to realise your faces were mere centimetres apart. Despite this, neither of you looked away.

“What?” you almost whispered, unsure if you heard him right.

“I said that it was kinda nice.”

Nice? He thought holding hands was nice? That couldn’t be true, Chishiya didn’t seem like the type of guy to get any comfort from physical contact - quite the contrary actually. He had always kept to himself, never initiating any touching with you that wasn’t strictly necessary for survival.

Astute as he was, Chishiya was perfectly able to read the confused expression on your face, somehow almost entering your mind and listening to the little voice in your head that was currently arguing with itself.

“I’m not a robot, you know,” he began with the tiniest smirk on his lips. There was something endearing in the way your befuddled eyes hectically darted around his face to make sense of his words. “Hand holding is nice.”

To your surprise, you felt Chishiya’s fingers inching closer to your body, inviting you to take his hand once again. He didn’t want to just forcefully grab your hand - that would ruin the comfort part of hand holding. It wasn’t long before your own hand shakily moved from your chest and down your body until your hands touched once more.

Slowly, almost as if he was afraid to scare you away with too sudden movements, Chishiya’s fingers perfectly interlocked with yours, squeezing you slightly and running his thumb up and down the back of your hand. It was surprisingly calming. Nice, even.

“Your hands are cold.”

Chishiya continued to run his warm thumb soothingly across the almost freezing skin of the back of your hand.

“Well, it’s cold outside.”

“Still,” he said, his eyes darting from your face and down to your hand. “Do you have any issues with blood circulation?”

You laughed at the sudden seriousness of his question. “What are you, a doctor?”

“Something like that,” he said vaguely with a smile, finding humour in your words that you didn’t get yourself, while his eyes locked in on yours again. You had never really talked about your lives before the borderlands with him. He was way too secretive to let anyone in like that, and you respected it. Getting close with someone in this world only leads to heartbreak. It was better if you didn’t know more than you needed to. 

For a moment, the only sound audible was that of raindrops hitting the polyester walls of the tent. However, this time you didn’t mind the silence. For once it wasn’t awkward but actually quite soothing. Even the eye contact with Chishiya felt comforting. It felt so… human?

“You know,” Chishiya finally broke the silence. The mischievous twinkle in his eyes told you that he was about to ruin the otherwise serene moment with some dumb comment. “If you’re cold, you can just move closer to me.”

You almost choked on air. “I’m sorry?”

“You can move closer to me,” he repeated as if it was the most natural thing he could have said. “I’m warm. I don’t mind heating you up. It sure beats having to take care of you when you inevitably get sick.”

For a few seconds you neither spoke nor moved. Did he seriously just suggest that? But then the thought of finally being warm again crept up in your mind. Perhaps cuddling wouldn’t be bad - it was innocent enough, right?

Without saying a word, you moved into his arms and placed a hand on his chest, sighing when you felt his body heat radiate over your stiff and cold body, simultaneously awakening your senses and causing you to become sleepy. Chishiya wrapped his arm around you and pulled you in close as if you had done this plenty of times before.

“You smell nice” you finally commented, still warm and cosy in his arms. Sure, you had been living uncomfortably close to Chishiya for the past week, but this was the first time you truly got close enough to smell him. It was hard to explain what he smelled like. You knew it wasn’t deodorant or aftershave - he had brought back neither from his 7/11 runs - so it had to just be how he smelled.

“Good to know,” he said lowly, pausing for a second before continuing. “You smell nice too.”

Without actively intending to, Chishiya began slowly caressing your arm, tracing his fingertips gently across your cold skin and heating you up. It felt comforting so you didn’t want to point it out and risk him stopping.

“It’s been a weird week.”

He hummed and nodded in response, leaving the only sound in the tent that of heavy rain drops hitting the roof and gliding down the sleek polyester. “It has,” he finally replied.

“If you had told me a week ago that we would be cuddled up in a shitty two-man tent together, I would have laughed in your face.”

“Am I really that bad?” he asked, sounding more amused than offended.

You didn’t reply for a while, mostly because you weren’t sure what to respond. On one hand, Chishiya was a pain in the ass to deal with. He was stubborn, smug, and an annoying know-it-all. On the other hand, you weren’t sure you would have survived if you hadn’t stayed with him. 

“No,” you finally replied. “You aren’t that bad. You’re just… you.”

“I see,” he began slowly, carefully choosing his words while continuing to stroke your body with nice, gentle movements. “You’re not that bad either. If I had to be stuck with someone, I’m at least glad it’s you.”

You tilted your head upwards to meet his gaze. Despite how little moonlight that got through the material of the tent, you could still clearly make out the face you had come to know so well. With one hand still caressing your arm, his free hand began trailing up your body to your face where he cupped your cheek, pulling you in close to him until your lips met.

Although the kiss was firm, you could also feel that Chishiya was giving you a chance to back away. For a short moment you considered this possibility: you knew that your entire dynamic very well could be changed if you did this. It could potentially put both of you in danger in the future if you actually got attached. Despite this, you decided to not back away and instead kissed him back equally as firmly, your lips moving in sync with each other.

Slowly, you felt as Chishiya’s body rolled on top of you, pressing you down against the thin and rather uncomfortable sleeping mats that covered the floor of the tent. However, at this moment you didn’t care, not even noticed the uncomfortability of your sleeping arrangements. All your mind was focused on were the sensation of Chishiya’s lips and tongue, and the calming way at which his body weight was grounding you.

As his kisses got sloppier and his hands rougher in their movements around your body, you for the first time felt emotions from Chishiya that weren't just smugness or stoicism. He seemed almost desperate for you as his lips left yours to traverse down your neck, the sound of his heavy breathing filling up the confined space of the tent.

His lips left your neck as he sat up in between your legs and admired the view in front of him. Your hair was spread out wildly behind you, covering the mat; your lips apart and gasping for air; and your chest heaving up and down. Chishiya didn’t look for long before he got to work on undressing you, helping you pull your shirt over your head.

Due to the rather cramped conditions, he had you sit up to undress your lower half, undressing himself as he waited. And there you were: naked and absolutely gorgeous. His eyes lingered on your body and although it was rather dark, he could easily make out your silhouette. You laid back down on the mat, waiting for him to climb back on top of you but he didn’t. Instead, he kept eyeing you over, studying every curve and valley of your figure.

“I don’t have all night,” you joked, using humour to deflect how shy his gaze was making you feel.

Chishiya chuckled, realising that what he was doing was taking longer than he intended to.

“Bear with me,” he said with an obvious smile audible in his tone. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen a woman like this.”

“It’s too dark to see me well anyway,” you smiled and wiggled your body a bit to invite him closer. “Don’t leave me hanging, it’s cold laying alone like this.”

Chishiya sharply exhaled air out of his nose at the joke, and gave into your wish. He climbed back on top of you, making you share your combined body heat. His lips began exploring your cheek, jaw, neck, and collarbone before he tried moving further down south. However, he was quickly stopped by the lack of space. After a moment of silence where he tried to change his position around, he finally spoke confidently while laying down beside you.

“Sit on my face.”

“I’m sorry?” you asked, shocked by how forward he was being.

“You heard me. Sit on my face.”

After the initial surprise had simmered down, you decided to follow his rather abrupt demand, sitting back up and straddling Chishiya. Slowly, as if you were unsure if this was the right move, you shimmied your body forwards towards his face, hovering your needy centre just above him.

“Sit.” he commanded while hooking both arms around your thighs and putting pressure on them to push you down towards him.

“I don’t want to suffocate you.”

Chishiya chuckled and tried to pull you down towards his face again. “If that’s how I go, then I won’t complain. It beats dying in the games.”

Deciding that Chishiya was serious about this, you obliged, lowering your body to immediately get met by the overwhelming situation of Chishiya wildly licking up and down your wet folds, slurping in the juices your core so politely offered him.

“Fuck, too much,” you mewled, attempting to stand back up again but being held down by Chishiya’s strong arms while he continued to relentlessly lick up wetness.

You closed your eyes to focus on the pleasure aspect while trying to ignore just how overstimulating Chishiya’s quick tongue swirls were. It didn’t seem as if he had any intention of stopping anytime soon, so you instead allowed yourself to melt into his mouth. Relaxing helped, turning the repeated overstimulation into welcomed pleasure, and causing your mewls to turn into moans.

Chishiya’s grip around your thighs relaxed and instead of drilling his fingertips into your flesh, he caressed your skin up and down, only adding another dimension to the wonderful sensation of his body on yours. Too into the way his tongue so precisely seemed to know exactly how to move, you didn’t notice when Chishiya’s left hand abandoned your thigh to stroke himself until you heard him grunt into your cunt.

The combination of his tongue’s precise movements and the vibration produced by Chishiya’s own groans eventually sent you over the edge, making your thighs clamp hard around Chishiya’s face as you came undone on his tongue. Currently having no other options as he was stuck between your thighs, Chishiya slurped up your arousal, gladly accepting every drop your body offered him.

Once your high was over, you let go of Chishiya’s face and fell to the side to lay down beside him on the thin mat, your chest heaving up and down dramatically as you tried to catch your breath. While licking his lips clean, Chishiya sat up to climb on top of you, smashing his lips onto yours so you could taste yourself.

“You okay?” he whispered in between kisses, waiting for you to nod before he lined himself up at your entrance.

Chishiya didn’t waste longer than he had to, sinking himself into you once you had let him know that you were ready. You felt a mix of pleasure and pain as he stretched your core to its limit, slowly pushing his entirety into you until his tip leaky hit your cervix, gently kissing it as he paused there to let you get used to him.

The slightly burning feeling of Chishiya’s hard dick stretching you out soon enough got replaced with ecstasy as he rhythmically began thrusting in and out of you. First it was slow, but he soon quickened the pace, making you burrow your nails deep into his back as your mind got clouded by the pleasure he provided.

The thrusts, which had been so careful to begin with, quickly gained strength as he repeatedly pounded against your cervix, causing you to hiss and moan alternately. Despite the pain, you didn’t want to ask him to stop - instead you enjoyed the thought that you would be able to feel the aftereffects of this moment for hours to come.

Just as you felt like you had gotten into a good rhythm, finding immense pleasure in the way Chishiya’s hardness was continuously hitting against your sensitive walls, you felt as his movements became less regular and more shaky.

“Fuck,” he grunted into your ear, trying his best to keep up the losing battle. “I’m gonna… fuck.”

With one final groan, Chishiya’s hips stuttered as he buried his length deep inside of you to empty himself. It felt warm and nice, and although you knew that that meant it was all over, you weren’t upset. Instead, you gently caressed his back, trying to let him peacefully ride out his high. Eventually, he rolled off of you, lying beside you while trying to catch his breath.

“Sorry,” he mumbled out of breath. “It’s been a while.”

“It’s fine,” you quickly said with a reassuring smile. “It was a good. Don’t worry.”

Chishiya pulled you in close to him, wrapping an arm around you and letting you rest up against his chest. For a while, the only sound in the tent was that of heavy rain drops hitting against the roof and your slowly easing breathing.

“You know,” you began with a tired smile. “You owe me a better experience now. Looks like we would have to do this again.”

Thankfully, Chishiya chuckled, and you felt him nod his head.

“We need to sleep,” he whispered into your ear. “We’re taking on a face card tomorrow. If we survive, we can celebrate. I promise.”

[PART THREE HERE]

[niqhtlord01]

Humans are weird: Evolutionary Adaptability

( Please come see me on my new patreon and support me for early access to stories and personal story requests :D https://www.patreon.com/NiqhtLord Every bit helps)     When Kel had petitioned the human worlds of Jora, New Foundland, Davin VI, and Tesla’s Retreat he had thought he knew what to expect.

Though humans were still relatively young in the grand scale of galactic empires they had the most interesting, if not confounding, habit of setting up shop on any world they could find. Be it a dust ball with no atmosphere and three hundred degree sunrises, or a water world filled with ravenous creatures; humanity had shown their grit and made these worlds into new colonies and homes regardless of the danger.

Acting as a representative of his people Kel had reached out to each of those four worlds to establish trade routes. The possible wealth from each, let alone all four together, would be enough to sustain his world’s economic boon for several dozen generations.

He had been delighted when the transmissions came in one by one and each of the human worlds had agreed to meet on Kel’s homeworld to discuss the arrangements.

The first signs that things were running off the tracks was when the Jora delegation had arrived.

Kel had done his research after gathering many texts and documents regarding the human homeworld and thought himself prepared to handle the humans as they exited the landing ships. To say he was surprised when instead of tall slender bipedals massive mechanical suits ducked between the loading doors and on to the landing field would be an understatement.

These constructs were easily nine feet in height and four feet wide standing on two pairs of sharp metal legs that gave them a more insect appearance. Their hands were likewise far more different as they only had three metal talons that clicked and clacked as the machines approached him and Kel saw his reflection in the polished steel bodywork.

As if that was not enough the bodywork suddenly split open and Kel saw a fluid sack inside of the machine holding a frail looking human with numerous wires and tubes sticking out of them.

The human inside nodded to Kel in greeting and their mechanical suit mimicked the motion as well; to which Kel returned after an embarrassing moment’s hesitation.

Before Kel could inquire about the state of the Joraran’s they spoke through a robotic speaker built into their suits. It was then Kel learned that because the gravity of Jora was nearly ten times lighter compared to their natural homeworld the humans had needed to construct mechanical suits to move and live across the any other planet’s surface. If they had attempted to exit the suits and walk normally the gravity of Kel’s world would crush them like tin cans. Thinking to himself Kel imagined that was why the humans inside the machines looked so frail in comparison to their Terran born brethren.

---------- After the Joraran’s came the New Foundlanders some thirty minutes later.

This time the humans did not need to lower themselves to exit the shuttle craft. In fact, they barely came up half way inside the doorframe forcing Kel to tilt his head down and look upon them.

In contrast to the Joraran’s, the New Foundlanders were short and muscular built; coming up to Kel’s waist in height. They wore normal looking clothes standard to human fashion but the fabrics appeared strange as they New Foundlanders approached. It was as if the fabric was remaining static and unmoving despite the motions their wearers made.

Kel extended his hand in human custom to shake in glorious welcome, but to his shock the humans looked amongst themselves and shook their heads.

When Kel inquired if he had offended them somehow they stated that he had done nothing of the sort, and that their reluctance to shake his hand was more for his own safety.

Something of confusion must have cross his face as the lead New Foundlander motioned for one of Kel’s aides to toss him a pen. With a nod from Kel the aide handed a pen to the leader who promptly snapped it in two with the smallest of motions.

Kel learned that in opposite of Jora, New Foundland had gravity ten times heavier than that of earth forcing the humans who lived there to develop squat like bodies of raw muscle. On a lighter gravity world like Kel’s the mere flick of one of their fingers was enough to violently amputate the arm of anyone.

Kel thanked them for the warning and hurriedly sent the new information on to his waiting staff to ensure no one died from a handshake later that day. ---------------------

Next to arrive were the Davinites.

Kel was thankful that when the shuttle doors opened the Davinites were much like the human material he had researched prior to their meeting. They stood between 5 and 6 feet in height, were slender in body shape, and did not walk with mechanical suits or seemed overly careful what they touched.

The strangeness only began to reveal itself when Kel looked closer and saw that underneath the formal clothing the Davinites were wearing a full body bodysuit made from a strange black material. This covered every inch of what would have been exposed skin with even their eyes shielded behind large black goggles.

They shook Kel’s hand in human custom but then insisted that they leave the landing pad as soon as possible. When he asked why they were in such a hurry it was revealed to Kel that Davin VI was orbiting a red dwarf star that provided little light compared to most worlds. The day and night cycles of their world were a constant shroud of soft light, barely enough to see your hand in front of your face let alone the stars themselves.

As a result the Davinite skin had become increasingly pale in the absence of sunlight and their eyes had adapted to the lower light levels to see. Standing out in the open in natural daylight, even with the reflectors on their face, must have been like standing on the surface of the sun.

With great haste he ushered them inside and had his aides blot out the windows and greatly reduce light levels of their rooms for the duration of their stay. -------------------- The final delegation was by far the most unusual of the group in Kel’s eyes.

Unlike the previous delegations, the Teslins arrived in their own spacecraft specially designed on their homeworld. It was a massive freighter like construct easily five to six times larger than any shuttle that had arrived prior.

When the doors opened Kel was greeted by five Teslins all wearing environmental suits he had previously seen in dated records for human space travel.

They slowly walked towards Kel and shook his hand. Their leader was rather friendly and welcoming in their own right and matched him custom for custom as was befitting a delegate.

Kel had tried to resist asking about the suits they wore but thankfully they must have encountered this problem before and demonstrated the need for their suits.

With a nod from their leader one of the Teslins removed the gauntlet from their suit and exposed their hand to the open air. Nothing happened at first until Kel heard a rustle from behind him.

One of his aides was fiddling with their data pad; swatting it with their hands while they rolled it front and back. They caught Kel looking at him and said that it had suddenly died on him and that he was not sure why. The batteries had listed fully charged just a moment ago and now the device refused to power on.

Kel turned back to the Teslins and saw the previous member return their gauntlet to their suit with a loud click followed by the chime of the data pad powering up again.

The Teslin leader explained that the surface of Tesla’s Retreat was plague with frequent and violent electrical storms. The very air you breathed had a sub layer of constant energy in it regardless of where you were on the planet.

Their bodies had adapted to the electrical currents and were able to absorb and pass on energy in the surrounding area through their own bodies; much like a power relay passing on power from a power station to a waiting city.

The grandeur of their ship was a necessity as it contained multiple power units. In the event of a suit breach the Teslin’s could drain the power from a ship midflight and send everyone plummeting to their deaths; but with their design the backup generators would kick in and ensure a somewhat smooth landing.

Realizing the danger the Teslin’s presented while standing in a busy spaceport Kel ushered them inside while he tried to find transportation for them that would not kill them. -------------------------

Each of the delegations were so vastly different from what Kel had been informed of human genes and species type, and yet each of them still claimed to be just as human as the next of their kin, regardless of the vastly different features they wore.

It was a notion that Kel made scrupulous notes for future dealings with the humans, to which the delegation core all but awarded him a medal from the mounting confusion his notes would resolve in later negotiations.

[atwas-gaming]

Sonic Movie 3 Preliminary Predictions

I saved the craziest one for last:

This COULD be Shadow and Gerald bending over Maria's body, but that doesn't sound right to me.

The Ark is big enough to hold large vehicles like this:

But I think a battle big enough to leave this kind of wreckage might do major structural damage to the Ark.

Also, if this is when Maria died, wouldn't the GUN soldiers be aiming AT Shadow and Gerald? Looks to me like they're aiming past them, at something in the distance.

And look at the body. I think I can make out what looks like a very round, small head:

Could this be Sonic's body? Do they think he died in the final battle?

Because all we've seen in the trailer is Shadow as a supervillain, and that is NOT who Shadow is.

Black-hearted evil, Brave-hearted hero, I am all, I am all I am.

Look, Eggman might be working with Team Sonic for a time...

But he's gonna turn on them all. "If I can't rule the world, I might as well save it!" Yeah, sure, Eggface, just saving your own butt, and the second you find an opportunity to try to rule the world, you're taking it. Because that's what Eggman ALWAYS does. His ONLY purpose in life is trying to rule the world.

He wants POWER. He's gonna take that thing and do something with it. And while I like the theory that he's building a Metal Sonic with it, we clearly won't see it in this movie. (Maybe movie 4...?)

But I think I do know what he IS gonna build in this one:

Look behind Tails.

See it? Most prominently on the right side?

The MOUSTACHE?!?

It's the DEATH EGG.

So Robotnik's gonna build the Death Egg, Team Sonic's gonna have to fight him, and somehow, Shadow's gonna realize he has to join Team Sonic.

Not really surprising, that's usually the gist of every game with Shadow in it. But I gotta wonder why I haven't seen anyone talk about that shot of the Death Egg. I KNOW y'all have been analyzing the trailer frame-by-frame. I must just be missing the discussion somehow. I even googled "sonic movie 3 death egg" and got nuthin.

(My theory is that Eggman's gonna turn the Ark into the Death Egg, but we'll have to wait and see.)

This calls into question lines like "when we're done, there won't be anything left," and "what I had to."

What's Shadow gonna do???

And does it have anything to do with this?

Why are they tied up like that??? If that is, as I've seen people say, not a black hole, but rather a ring portal that Shadow opened into space, then I can't imagine Shadow gave enough warning for these three to tie themselves down.

So what if they were tied down in preparation for Shadow opening this ring portal as part of the final battle against the Death Egg? Maybe to suck Eggman's robots off the planet or something?

Notice that there's no humans in this picture, either. My guess is that they got Tom and Maddie and GUN crew out of the area before Shadow opened the portal. Because Sonic and Co. can survive in space, but nothing else can.

With only 2 minutes of the movie currently at our disposal, it's impossible at this point to be certain of anything about the overall plot. But I know what Shadow and Eggman are both like, and the trailer is leaving out half their characters. Unless the plot goes completely off the rails and totally disregards every bit of character building Shadow ever had in the games, he IS gonna join Team Sonic, and there WILL be a final battle against Eggman.

If only because he promised Maria that he would protect Earth.

[dyns33]

Flufftober 2024 - 28 Murderdock

When she was still a child, Y/N's parents gently scared her with stories of the Bogeyman, who would come and eat her if she was not good.

They talked about it when she behaved like a spoiled child, throwing a tantrum, but also on important evenings that excited her too much, like the start of school holidays, New Year's, or Halloween. It didn't really work.

Y/N didn't believe in these stories, which she found fascinating and funny, laughing while hiding under the sheets, which annoyed her parents a little, even if they found her adorable.

As she grew up, her carefree attitude never completely disappeared. Of course, she wasn't stupid, she was cautious when needed and didn't trust just anyone, but there were many things that didn't scare her, while others trembled.

Like Matthew Murdock for example.

When she was hired by his firm as an assistant, there was a rather strange atmosphere in the offices. On the one hand, some employees looked like soulless robots, who only thought about their cases or money. And on the other, there were those who seemed scared to death.

"And you ? What does he have against you ?" an accountant had asked her timidly during her lunch break.

"Against me ? I don't understand."

"Oh. You're… You're like them then. You seemed so nice."

"What ?"

"Listen, I'm sorry. Don't tell Murdock anything, I don't want any trouble, please. I have children."

Y/N still hadn't really understood what had happened that day, except for the fact that a lot of people were really afraid of Matthew Murdock.

Yet she had seen him and he wasn't that impressive. Of average height, blind, calm, the lawyer didn't seem capable of doing much harm. Physically anyway. Due to his work, he was probably very intelligent, he had contacts and must have information, but that didn't mean he was an evil genius who was going to use it to make others suffer.

The few times she saw him, he seemed normal, polite. Y/N always greeted him by asking him if he was having a good day or if he wanted a coffee. Even if he seemed a bit surprised, he smiled at her and thanked her. Sometimes, he asked her in return how she was.

"It's refreshing." he sighed once, as she handed him the tea he had asked her.

"Tea ? Yes, I like it a lot, it feels good."

"Haha. Sweet. No, I meant you. It's rare that someone is so relaxed with me. I can easily imagine why, but I appreciate it anyway."

Again, she didn't really understand what he meant. But she liked their short chats. He often told her that she was doing a good job, and he was the only relaxed person in the entire building.

Then, after listening to the rumors, reading some reports, attending complicated trials, Y/N began to think that maybe there was something wrong with Matthew Murdock. If everyone was afraid, there had to be a good reason.

He seemed disappointed the first time she passed by him without speaking to him. However, she had done her best to be discreet, so that he wouldn't know she was there.

"Hello dear Y/N." he said with a smile, making her jump, as he entered the elevator.

"Oh. Hello Mr. Murdock."

"It's been a few days since I've had the pleasure of speaking to you, I've missed you."

"I'm sorry." she stammered, leaning against the wall, as far away from him as possible. "I've had a lot of work, I…"

"No, don't do that. You started so well. There's no reason for you to be nervous, even now that you've figured out some essential things. You're doing well, I don't have any incriminating information against me, we can be friends."

"I… Friends, Mr. Murdock ?"

"Call me Matt." he purred, moving closer until she found herself stuck. "I've never really had any friends. Foggy only counts for half, we have common professional interests. And he doesn't really have the choice at this point. Let's go to dinner tonight."

Y/N wondered what she had done to deserve to fall prey to what looked a lot like a bogeyman. A bogeyman as scary as he was visibly lonely, and maybe if she were a good friend, he wouldn't eat her.

[tothosewholisten]

Forever Healed | TUA Insert

Chapter: 14

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Masterlist

Disclaimer: B/n = birth name

…

I once again repeated the question I've asked Five three times already. “What did you do?” But again, it was to no avail.

“Your questions will be answered in time Number Zero, but for now pick up the pace!” Said the woman with an unusual, cheery voice. I wasn’t sure if she was trying to piss me off by calling me that, but I had a feeling she was. I stopped thinking for a second and took a look at her. Her attitude was very snarky, and she was strangely dressed, but who am I to judge?

With her platinum, gray hair and posh walk, I knew she had to be the leader of whatever hellish organization Five deserted.

Which led me to think of more questions. Where are we? Why am I here? What happened to the others? Did these people cause the end of time? And then the one question still left on my mind, who is the girl I said would end the world..?

As I thought about it, the woman started talking to Five, and I walked behind them like some servant. We were walking fast and away from the place where I first landed on the grass. Going towards a large gray block building with a plethora of people walking in and out open. They held briefcases and chatted like this was a normal occurrence.

They were all dressed in a similar fashion in old outfits you used to see in magazines from a different decade. It was obvious to me now that we were in the past. And as people passed us, they greeted her with a sense of priority. They called her The Handler, the name so unimportant that I’d forgotten Five told me earlier.

“I must admit Number Five, in all the time I’ve been here I’ve never met anyone quite like you.” The Handler’s praise was off-putting to me, and I could tell it was off-putting to him as well. “Hazel and Cha-Cha, for example, are talented, certainly, but.. they can’t see the big picture. Your spunk, your enterprising spirit, well, remind me a great deal of myself, if I may be so vainglorious.” She wrapped her black coat-covered arm around his shoulder as she spoke almost like a mother but creepy.

This was all getting very tiresome. I had half the mind to say “You guys know I’m here, right?” And I guess I ended up saying that because she turned to me. As well as Five who had a blank expression on his face.

“And you, my dear, I believe you are the key!”

My confusion could be felt around the area. “The key to what.”

“With your unique skill set the two of you could be, how do I say this? Unstoppable.” She finished with a whisper. My head started to spin at her words as I opened my mouth to protest her words, sadly no one responded.

I started to feel a sort of hatred towards five. He drags me through yet another thing just because I survived the apocalypse and gives me no explanation. Why can’t anything ever be simple? Why can’t we ever just communicate?

As we entered the building, the layout made my nerves skyrocket. It was very claustrophobic. There was a spiral staircase, where workers upon workers would travel up and down. And there I was out of place when Five seemed to just fit right in.

“You know if things work out for you here you could potentially make a fine successor, Five.” Still, there was no mention of me. The Handler shed her silk coat to reveal a sleek black gown with several different red designs. A perfect gown for an unhinged woman.

The people around us stared at me and whispered good things from what I heard, but it was a scary thought to be the center of attention. Even though the actual people's attention I wanted were too focused on each other.

“I’d like to discuss the logistics of my family's safety at your earliest convenience. as well as this body replacement.” Five said in an almost robotic tone.

She laughed. “Such chutzpah! It’s refreshing I’ll admit. Slow down five. all in good time.” The Handler continued speaking when we reached the top of the staircase. “Now that you two have agreed to work with us. We’ve got all the time in the world.”

I stopped. I froze. Whatever I did. They seemed to notice that I ceased moving. The last thing she said didn’t make any sense to me. “Stop it, just stop this. Look, I didn't agree to do anything. I don’t know why I'm here. I can't get a straight answer. I rejected your company once so why do you think you can just have me now?” I raised my voice, which caused workers to stop and stare.

All The Handler did was smile, she did not react to what I had to say. She looked at a worker nearby, and he left and reappeared with some woman. She was tall, and her hair was kept old-fashioned in an updo. She carried a book in her arms. “Dot.”

“Yes?” Dot spoke with a sweet tone.

“Would you please show Number Five where his new headquarters is?”

“Of course!” She ushered for Five to follow her but before he left he gave me one last glance, I couldn’t even look at his eyes though. Once he left I thought for sure I was dead. I offended her and this is the end unless I fight my way out of this.

The handler looked at me, almost like she was sizing me up. “Walk with me,” she said softly. The anger I expected was nowhere on her face. She looked almost happy, something that felt out of place in a building like this.

..

We walked in silence for a bit as she led me down the hall. “What is your goal in life, Number Zero?”

“Y/n, my name is Y/n.”

“I’m sorry. What is your goal in life, Y/n?”

My mind went back to the conversation I had with Vanya, about feeling stuck. I have nothing to say to her because I don’t have a goal in life. I spend every day trying to just get past it so I can see the next morning. Except for when I hang out with Klaus and now when I’m running around trying to help solve the apocalypse.

I say nothing back.

"That's all right dear that’s why we’re here.” She shoots a caring look at my sad face.

But then I go from pitying myself to remembering I’m basically being held captive. I need to remind myself that I need to get out of here. “What do you guys want from me?” I said, plainly.

The Handler looks a little bit annoyed before answering. “We want you to reach your full potential.”

I scoff. “And what is that?”

We stop at a door. “Before I answer, would it be easier to talk sitting down? Let’s go into my office.” I only nod at her. Whatever gets me more answers I guess. As soon as I entered the room, I was filled with an immediate sense of dread. The room itself was fine, almost every wall was covered in bookshelves, it almost made me forget that this was an office and not a library.

Her desk was large, as large as her personality. It was neat, yet unorganized with a bunch of things on it. She quickly sat down in her spinny chair as I looked around the room.

“You’re a fan of books, right? You could read anything you want in here.”

I turn my head towards her. “I never told you that.” I snap.

But she ignores me. “I have all the greats, dating back from Shakespearean times, I’m a bit of a collector as you could see.” She giggles.

I once again had to refocus myself as I sat down in the chair directly in front of her.

“Right to the point I see, well I’ll try to be quick. We have other tasks to do together.” She grabs the glass of water on her desk and takes a big gulp before getting started.

“The truth is Number Zero, we’ve been watching you even before the apocalypse date. The Umbrella Academy itself is a bit of a local celebrity to us. But you in particular could make this place so much better.. We need people like you, not only for your powers of regeneration but your mindset. Back when you were a child, you used to be a killing machine. I mean nothing Sir Reginald made you do would phase you!” My face dropped as she went on.

“As you can tell, I run a tight operation here and just between you and me some of these people are emotional, but if we had more soldiers like you.. well, let’s just say there wouldn’t be any desertion.”

“So what do you say? Come work for us? Of course, you get all the benefits. Health care, not that you need it. Housing, meals every day, hell, I’ll even throw in a new job title. How would you like to be the head of the department?” She was practically buzzing with excitement that I would say yes to this horrible agreement.

As I listened to her words I started picking my skin on my fingers, and it started to be very hard to breathe. She wants me to do the thing I ran away from? No. I can’t go back.

“Y/n?” She calls out.

My lungs felt on fire.

“Y/n? Darling”

My head was spinning.

“Speak to me.”

My eyes were darting around the room.

“We can do this together.”

My ears are ringing.

I think I was having a panic attack.

I was so sick and tired of the false comfort I was getting. I was tired of five. I was tired of thinking of Ben. I was tired of thinking of the apocalypse. So many things were circling my mind, so many people needed me to help them

I needed to look out for Klaus. I needed to look out for Diego. Where is my comfort? Who is looking out for me? I can’t be on my own. At first, I thought that person was Ben but then I lost him too. I need someone. And then I thought it was with him. I needed someone to fall back on but now he’s gone. And it was all my fault.

I opened my mouth, but only shrieks and whispers came out. The handler looked dazed, almost thrilled that I was freaking out.

“No..“ I whispered.

She raised an eyebrow. “No?”

“You can’t put me back there. I can’t do this again.” My throat let out an awful voice crack. “I’m not a soldier, I’m a person. I will never be a soldier not again doesn’t matter if it’s for you or if it’s for the greater good, I was already lied to about that once. My answer is no.” I glared at her.

I whispered, “And if you don’t get me home. I will stop every organ in your body from working, don't test me. I’ve done it before.”

She smirked. “Trust me, I know you have. That's why I know you won’t do it to me. No. I remind you too much of your mother, the woman who gave you away. That’s why you were staring at me so hard and also my pretty dress, just like hers. Lovely isn’t it?”

“That's not true!” I yelled.

“I know everything about you, B/n. That’s the name, isn't it? The one your mother gave you? You were such a cute kid.”

B/n? Who's that?

There's no way I'd forget my own name.

“No matter how much you try to trick me I won’t do it.” I cried out.

She slammed her hands on her desk, while never breaking her smile.“I don’t need to trick you. This is what you want. You want purpose, after you left Reginald there was no one to tell you what to do, that was until you found your boyfriend and after he left, sorry! Let’s not lie, we both know he didn’t leave.”

“You know, you and Five just have to be related, you're the same person. You two both need purpose and I can give it to you here!”

The happy woman had disappeared. Now I am seeing her true nature; she's conniving she only wants power. She wants my power.

“Excuse me, I am a fan of the dramatics. I don’t know why we're even doing this. You have to do this.

My stare falters. “What?”

“In order for some sort of sanctuary from the apocalypse, which we both know will never work. Five promised the both of you two to work here, to save your glorious family.”

“Fuck you! That’s not true.” I stand up from my chair.

“Go ask him yourself. I'm not holding you hostage in this room. Or better yet check my body, if I'm lying my heartbeat should falter or something like that?” She sips more water.

I try my best to find a lie in her senses, but she’s telling the truth. “You're right.” I gasp.

She grins. “Honestly that is just astounding. Your powers are amazing. This is exactly why we need you!” She claps her hands.

I don’t feel the same sentiment. My brother, adopted or not, is going to force me to work here away from my home, away from my semblance of reality for an apocalypse we probably can’t beat for the apocalypse, where I am the only one destined to live by myself forever away from my world. Why am I always destined to hurt?

“All right, enough of that, come now we need to get your uniform. I hope you’re okay with a suit after all that’s what everyone wears. And oh! I can get your first assignment. This is going to be wonderful. I see a future for us, together.” The Handler gushes

She stands up and walks to the door. “Are you coming? Number Zero.”

This will never be over. I don’t know why I followed her. My body moved on its own following its commands, like it always has.

She led me to the suit department of the commission, where a man and his late fifties worked. He looked at me with some bit of sorrow, but I just looked at the floor as the handler told him my measurements. Which she knew, I’m guessing from watching me.

..

She then pushed me into the bathroom and told me to get changed. I slowly put on the uniform, shedding myself off my normal clothes the last bit that made me, me. I walked out of the bathroom like a zombie.

“If it’s perfectly my, you're quite beautiful in a suit. One last thing, though I’m sorry your hair is amazing, but is sadly against the code. If you’re working, your hair needs to be up in a ponytail. Once you do that you’ll be done.”

She waits for me and expects me to do it myself, but I stare at my reflection in the mirror just like I have so many times before. “I can’t.”

“Oh! That’s my fault. I almost forgot.”

She grabs a brush from her dress pocket and does my hair for me. When she’s done she looks at her work. I look like I’m back in the Academy because it's the same way Gracie used to do my hair. This sick fuck probably memorized it.

I try to bite back my sobs, The Handler’s pale hand, holds onto the side of my face.

“Perfect.”

...

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