#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. 

[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

[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?

[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.”

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Masterlist

[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

[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]

[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.

[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.

[tonberry-yoda]

Hopeful - Ramattra

Pairing - Ramattra x reader

Warnings - too much fluff frrrr

Word Count - 3,937

Notes - this fic was inspired by this post by @lady-shimada!! i am super thankful to them for allowing me to write this wonderful idea because I absolutely love how this turned out!! this is one of my longest fics yet and I cannot express how fun this was to write!! thank you again @lady-shimada and I really hope you enjoy it!!! Have a great rest of your day/night everyone and please stay hydrated!!! <3333

You wiped the sweat off of your forehead and smiled at your work. "Does that feel better?" You asked the omnic who's arm you had just finished fixing up.

She rolled her arm and practically beamed at you, if she could of course. "Thank you! Y-You don't know how much this means to me!!" She pulled you into an embrace and you hugged her back with no hesitation.

"Of course. I'm just happy to help all that I can." Nothing felt better than seeing an omnic happy. As a human, it was rare to get along with omnics, especially after the war, but you were just glad that there was some peace in the world that you could take part in. Especially thanks to your teacher, Zenyatta, who was an omnic himself. You just wanted a better world. One in which omnics were seen as more than just robots, but another half of humans.

"How much will that be?" The omnic pulled her wallet out and started fishing out cash.

"No, please, it's on me. I don't need any money."

"Please let me pay, it's the least I could do." She started shoving money at you, but you kept declining.

"Ma'am, I'm serious. Seeing you in tip top shape is more than enough payment for me."

"You're a blessing, you know that?!" The omnic threw her arms around you once more before thanking you what seemed like a thousand times before leaving.

Genji just smiled at you from across the room. "You are very talented, y/n."

"Oh, stop it, Genij." You cleaned off a couple of tools and gave Genji a playful punch on the arm.

"It's true! I don't know what the omnics would do without someone like you. I don't know what I would do without you." He pointed to his robotic body, making you giggle a bit.

"It's seriously the least I could do. They need help, right? That's what I'm here for. To provide that help." You wiped some oil off of your face and slipped off your dirty apron. "Now I'm off to go get some food because I am exhausted."

---

"Brother, I just want to know why you're not fighting for us! For the omnics! The ones who raised you!" Ramattra exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air. He was on a walk with Zenyatta, as it had been years since they had last seen each other.

The two decided to get back in contact after a lot of thinking Zenyatta had done on his part. Moral of the story is: he missed Ramattra. They had an unbreakable bond that was taken away from them over a few disagreements. It's not that Zen wanted Ramattra back to change his mind. He just wanted to see him again. Without that brother-like omnic by his side, Zen was becoming a bit lonely.

"Don't you care about your people, brother?! Don't you care that they are dying?!"

"Of course I do, Ramattra," Zenyatta sat next to a nearby lake, looking up at the stars. "But doesn't everyone die?" His tone was soft and Ramattra was already getting frustrated.

"Yes! Everyone dies! But not like this, brother... not like this." He sat next to Zen, looking to the stars as well. "I just want peace for our people. I want to avenge Mondatta. I don't want it to happen all over again... especially to you." Ramattra sighed, feeling a little more at ease, waiting for Zenyatta to say something. Praying that he would agree with him.

"I understand how you must feel, brother," Zen's tone was still soft, not breaking once. "But we each have our own ways of thinking. I don't think anyone should die for the sake of others. I think in the end, we should all be equal."

"But how are we supposed to be equal when-"

Ramattra's rough tone was quickly interrupted by Zenyatta skipping a stone over the lake they were next to. "Listen, Ramattra. I invited you here because I missed you. That's all. We can have talks about war and death later, but for now," Zenyatta got up from his spot, continuing the walk. "I want to know how you've been."

---

"What did you get?" Genji walked up to you, taking a fry from your meal; the omnic he was talking to that was in recovery went back into rest mode. There were a lot of omnics that had to heal up, especially some who have seen some bad places. Your shop wasn't the cleanest, but at least you had a space for them to stay for a while.

"Well it looks like you already figured it out Mr. I Like To Steal Fries." You giggled, placing your food on a nearby table with tools strewn across it.

"Sorry, sorry," Genji put his hands in the air in joking defense. "Look, I'm just hungry too, y/n. You can't blame me."

"I thought you would be," you sighed, pulling out another bag. "So I got you some food too."

"That omnic was right... you are a blessing."

"Shut up Genji and just take the food. And you owe me a fry now!" You laughed, handing him his food.

"Do you have any more patients today?" Genji took off his mask to reveal his scar covered face. If only you could do something about that.

"I think I have one more... but it's a Junkertown patient."

"Are you serious?" Genji's mouth was full of food, shock painted on his face.

"Yeah," you said solemnly. "I hate getting those patients. Not because they're hard to fix, but because I feel so bad. The Junker Queen really fucks them up, I tell you what."

"I bet. I'm sorry." Genji looked at a patient who had been bed ridden for weeks. Another one from Junkertown, still trying to regain consciousness.

"Genji, I'm the last person you should be apologizing to." You looked down at your food, getting prepared for the patient you were going to have to help soon. You wished it didn't have to be this way between humans and omnics, but for now, this was the only thing you could do to help.

---

"Wait," Ramattra pinched the bridge of what would be his nose. "So you're telling me that you're teaching... a... human?"

"Two actually." Zenyatta said casually, watching an airplane fly by.

"Two?! Have you gone mad?!"

"Perhaps a little mad." Zen giggled to himself.

"You have got to be playing some sort of sick joke on me. I can't believe you would do something like that."

"Not all humans are bad. You do know that, right?" Zen gave Ramattra a playful look, which was returned with glaring eyes.

"Yes they are. Why else would we still be going through this pain and suffering?"

"Follow me. I want to show you something."

Ramattra sighed, but didn't argue with Zen. "Fine."

"Might I ask when the last time you spoke to a human was?"

Ramattra went silent, trying to think. "I don't really... speak to them. They made us suffer, so I make them suffer."

Zen hummed in response. "I see."

For the rest of the walk, the two omnics were silent. They didn't feel like more needed to be said, so they just listened to the nighttime birds sing and the slight breeze blow onto the nearby lake.

Ramattra loved when the world was peaceful. It was rare for him. Not often did he get to just enjoy the sounds of the world, it didn't feel like he was allowed to yet. He still had things he needed to do for his people. It was like a breath of fresh air was unheard of for Ramattra.

In that regard, he was very thankful for Zenyatta reaching out again. It was like how he used to live. And even if it wouldn't be permanent, it was nice.

"Right this way, brother." Zenyatta pointed down a dark alleyway, the only light coming from a dim lamp next to a sign that said in dark colors: "Omnic Repair". Zen opened the door to a dimly lit workshop with tired omnics lying in hospital-like beds.

Ramattra looked around the workshop, his gaze finding Genji who was sitting with an omnic that was in better condition with the rest, joking and chatting with him.

"Brother, what is thi-"

Ramattra was quickly interrupted by Zen putting his finger over what would be his mouth and pointing to you, who was hard at work fixing the omnic from Junkertown.

Ramattra turned to you and felt like everything around him had stopped. Like nothing existed in the world but you.

"Not all humans wish to see us suffer, Ramattra," Zen whispered with a smile, seeing how gentle you were with your patient.

"H-How?" Ramattra's tone was almost as soft as Zenyatta's.

"What do you mean, 'how?', brother? This is what they love to do. They want nothing more than to see an omnic live out its life."

"B-But... they're human."

"Very observant brother," Zenyatta giggled, putting his hand on Ramattra's lower back. "Why don't you say hello?" He pushed him to you, but Ramattra quickly stepped away.

"Zenyatta, I can't. They're doing something important right now." His eyes stayed glued to you, watching as your eyes didn't once leave your patient. You were so focused on fixing them, on helping them not be in pain, it was admirable.

You tilted your head, fixing a screw and stood up, stretching. "I'll be back." You said to your patient, who was already more than halfway completed. "You're a trooper."

The barely conscious omnic seemed to smile at you, giving you a limp high five and saying a soft "thank you."

You nodded and turned around, almost bumping into a large... omnic?!

You apologized and took a step back to find Ramattra standing in front of you. He was taller than any other omnic you have ever seen and a hell of a lot scarier too. But he also looked so... cool. Definitely unlike any other omnic you've met.

"y/n!" Zenyatta stepped out from behind Ramattra as you took off a face mask you had on. "You're doing excellent work in here!"

You smiled and gave Zenyatta a short hug. "Thank you, master. It's been a long day, but we're almost done."

"I'd like you to meet someone." Zenyatta pushed Ramattra in front of him, revealing to you the tall omnic. He had to be way over 6ft, he was gigantic.

"Hi!" You smiled, sticking your hand out to him.

"Hello there." Ramattra just stared at your hand and you let it limply fall to your side. You gave Zenyatta a confused look.

"This is Ramattra," Zenyatta introduced him because he knew that Ramattra wouldn't do it himself. "Ramattra, this is y/n."

"Does he need repair? Because he looks just fine to me. I mean I could check a couple of his bolts and wires, but like I said, he looks in tip top condition." You took a fry from the table in the corner of the room and popped it in your mouth.

"I need no repair, human." Ramattra's tone was rough, but it didn't scare you. It was just alarming to hear someone speak to you like that.

"Alright then... What can I help you with?"

Zenyatta just laughed and shook his head. "y/n, Ramattra here is like a brother to me. We've taught each other a lot, but got separated due to differences. I just wanted to show him the work you conduct in here, perhaps show him another side."

"Nothing will change my mind about humans." Ramattra turned around and crossed his arms, looking around the small workshop.

"That's not what I said, brother. I just wanted to show you something new, that's all."

Ramattra just ignored Zenyatta, walking over to an omnic who had to get all of his limbs replaced and was clearly exhausted, but still awake.

"Why are you here, brother?" Ramattra grabbed the omnic's hand, looking at his tired figure. "Why not get repaired by one of our own kind?"

The omnic just looked at Ramattra and stretched, his eyes getting brighter. "y/n is great. They make sure we're cared for and in our greatest condition."

"Yes, but they are human."

"I've met a lot of good humans in my day. And they are definitely one of them. If not for them, I wouldn't be here, talking to you."

"I see... Well, I will let you rest now. Godspeed, brother." Ramattra left the omnic to rest and saw that you went right back to work on your patient from when he walked in.

He walked over to you and sat down, watching you as you worked, not once thinking about anything else but saving this omnic.

"How long have you been doing this job?" You jumped slightly, shocked to hear Ramattra's booming voice.

You giggled, a little embarrassed about getting frightened. "I've always been interested in repairing, but it wasn't until I met Zenyatta that I realized that I can use those abilities on omnics too. Plus, I know that you all have been through a lot and I just want to start the movement to help. It's not much, but it's what I can do."

If Ramattra had a heart, it would be pounding. Perhaps he felt the simulation of it or at least his brain was telling him that his heart would be pounding. Whatever it was... he didn't like it. "W-Well, human's have been the reason for our destroyed life. The reason we are so hurt and suffer this much. It is because of you that you are fixing us. You're not helping with anything."

You didn't know how to respond. You had never been through what he has, nor do you even know how he would feel. So you just kept working on your patient. "I'm sorry." You ended up saying. "I know a simple apology isn't enough, but I am really trying to do better as a human. Omnics deserve much more than they are currently given and how they are treated, so, I'm sorry Ramattra." You looked up at him, making eye contact. "Truly."

For the first time, Ramattra couldn't say a single word. He had no rebuttal, nothing rude to say, no singular comment, nothing. He had nothing to say to you.

So instead of words, he opted for a head nod and continued watching you work. You were so precise, so caring, making sure not to hit any vital wires that would hurt the omnic in front of you. You knew what you were doing, and you were clearly skilled.

Shortly after, you took off your mask and smiled at your patient. After a couple of hours, this poor omnic that was torn apart by the citizens of Junkertown was finally as patched up as you could get them. Definitely able to live a mostly normal life and that was all you wanted for them.

The omnics eyes lit up. They couldn't walk or move too much due to their current condition, but they could definitely feel the difference. If they could smile, they would, but you could certainly tell how happy they were. "Th-Thank you." Their voice was weak, but sounded way happier than before. "You don't know how much this means to me."

"Of course," you smiled, grabbing their hand. "I'm just glad you're all better now. Like I said earlier, you're a trooper. Now get some rest, alright?"

They nodded lightly and pulled their blanket up their body, drifting off into sleep.

Ramattra was amazed. You were so... gentle with the omnics. You really did seem to love your job.

You slipped off your mask and your apron, receiving a high five and a "good job" from Genji.

"Thanks Genji. Another day done." You stretched, a couple of bones in your body popping.

"So," Ramattra scoffed, still trying to keep his intimidating front. "How much do you get paid for this?"

"I don't," you admitted, hanging up your apron and slipping on some slippers, yawning. "Why would they have to pay to continue living? That's just not fair."

God, Ramattra hated the way you were making him feel. Humans weren't supposed to be this... nice. They were evil. All of them. Right?

"Oh shoot!" You ran up to Ramattra, gently brushing your fingers over his arm. "There's a crack."

"It's nothing." Ramattra quickly pulled away from you.

"I saw a missing screw in there, it's not nothing. Can I please look at it?" You reached out your hand to him again and he pulled away again, walking away from you.

"No. I won't let a human touch me! I-"

Ramattra was interrupted by Zenyatta putting his hand on Ramattra's shoulder. "Just let them try. I promise they won't hurt you."

Ramattra sighed, but sat down anyway. He wasn't super stoked about having to be fixed by a human, but that crack and missing screw have been messing with his ability to use his arm properly. "Fine. But if you try anything, human, know that there will be prices to pay."

You could tell that Ramattra was stiff. You realized something though, perhaps this motion he made around humans wasn't because he was trying to defend himself or wanting you to fear him... it was because he was... scared. At least it seemed that way to you. He has only seen humans as something to harm him and the people he loves. Maybe being able to see a human as an ally was frightening to him.

"You don't have to be so tense," you giggled, pulling out a bag of assorted tools. "Loosen up a bit and this might be easier for both of us."

"It's a little difficult to do that... I don't want to drop my guard."

You hummed in response, picking out the tools you needed. "I understand... It must be weird to see humans as a nice thing, huh?"

Ramattra went silent for a moment, looking at a dim light bulb above him as you went to work. "I suppose. Your race has done nothing but hurt mine."

"I wish it didn't have to be this way," your tone was gentle as you concentrated on your work.

"Me too." For the first time, Ramattra's tone dropped. He wasn't trying to intimidate you anymore. It sounded almost... friendly.

"I'm going to bed, y/n." Genji took a step away from his desk that was cooped up in the corner of the workshop and stretched. "Great job today."

"Thank you Genji," you smiled. "Get a good night's rest, alright? It's already pretty late."

"I will. Don't work yourself to the bone, got it?"

"I won't. I'll be heading to bed myself after I fix up our new friend here." You chuckled as Genji went off to his room.

"After I fix up our new friend here."

Was Ramattra really stooping so low to find a human... friend? No. There was no way.

"All done!" You put any tools away and looked over Ramattra's metal body to see if there was anything else you needed to do.

Ramattra moved his arm and was shocked. It was the best his arm has felt in years.

"Thank you." Ramattra bowed at you. "I... appreciate your efforts."

"Anytime," you cleaned up and smiled at Ramattra, your hands moving to your hips. "Just be sure to come back again if there's anything wrong, alright?"

Ramattra just nodded and followed Zenyatta to the door of the workshop.

"Oh, y/n?"

You were headed up to your room to finally get some rest after such a long day, but were stopped by Ramattra's voice.

"Yes?" You stuck your head out from the top of the stairs.

"Promise to get a good night's rest?"

You thought for a moment as a smirk painted your face. "Yes. Promise to be back?"

Ramattra thought for a moment. "...Yes."

---

Ramattra did, in fact, come back. A lot actually. More than you expected him to, at least.

At first, it was for small upgrades he was thinking about related to his body and his weapon. And then it was to just see what you were working on and to visit other omnics. And finally, it was just to see you.

It was odd building a relationship with someone who hated your kind. Someone who was afraid that you would turn your back on him at any second. But you noticed every day that he would warm up to you more and more. Even if it was just little things like scooting a little closer to you or telling you about his day.

There started to be days where you would rarely not see his face.

---

"Good morning, y/n." You heard that familiar bell of your workshop door opening and Ramattra ducking his head to get through.

"Good morning, Ramattra." You smiled, continuing to sweep the floor.

"Any big plans for the day?"

"Nope! Today's my day off so I'm going to try to organize this hellhole."

Ramattra chuckled at the sight of your messy workshop. It wasn't unsanitary by any means, just cluttered.

"Sounds good." Ramattra nodded, sitting on a nearby stool, looking giant in it.

"Do you need any upgrades or anything fixed, Ramattra?"

"No, not that I can think of."

"Then do you have any big plans for the day?"

"No. I trained with Zenyatta this morning, but that's the only plan I made for today."

The two of you did what you needed to do in silence. You cleaned up all the clutter, trying to organize it to your best ability, and Ramattra would be on standby if you needed him to reach anything.

"Can I be honest with you, y/n?" If Ramattra could blush, he knew he absolutely would've been.

"Sure, Ramattra. Go ahead." You finally got a chance to take a breather, so you sat across from him.

He cleared his throat and kept his composure. He couldn't lose that stoic posture, couldn't let his guard down. "You are the most tolerable human I have ever met."

You laughed out loud. "Thank you?"

"I mean it. You're kind, caring, and helpful. I hate to admit it, but I think I'm actually starting to like you." He laughed, not believing he was actually saying any of this to you.

"That's actually very sweet, Ramattra. I've liked you from the beginning, so nothing has really changed over in my department." You smiled, laying your hand on the table.

"y/n? I just wanted to let you know, I hate the way you make me feel."

"Really?" You laughed. "Why's that?"

"I don't particularly enjoy conversing with humans, let alone take pleasure in being around them."

"Is it scary?" You asked, tilting your head a bit.

"To be honest with you, it's terrifying. I feel like I'm losing that hard edge. Growing softer. I'm not keen on that." He chuckled almost nervously and you slid your hand over to his.

"Well, I like guys with a soft side." You smiled and immediately made whatever heart Ramattra did have melt. How dare you!

"Don't you dare." Ramattra chuckled, giving you a playful smack on the hand.

"I'm glad I met you, Ramattra."

"I feel the same... I'm thankful that there are humans out in the world like you. It's almost making me..."

"Hopeful?"

"Precisely."

Ramattra walked up to you and placed his forehead on yours. You planted a small kiss on his cheek and he hugged you.

Yeah. You were making him feel hopeful.

~~~~~

overwatch masterlist --- pinned post

@tonberry-yoda

TAG LIST:

(these were all people i saw that were interested in this specific writing and ramattra x reader in general <3) @deepparadisesheep @tarotbonez @xoneaboveallx @snufkuluf @jinne-lee @igzsatelier

<333

[halogalopaghost]

Doctor On Call

read on AO3

“Hey Donnie, is this infected?”

Donatello jerked away from his workstation as Mikey’s foot came down on it heel-first. A large nodule stuck out from the lateral interior of his foot—red, angry, and (oh, goody) leaking.

He wrinkled his nose and used his screwdriver to push the foot unceremoniously off his desk. “How’d you even manage to get a blister there? We don't wear shoes, Mikey.”

He laughed. “You’re tellin’ me, dude. But uh, it kinda hurts, so—”

Donnie heaved a long-suffering sigh. “Hang on, let me go sterilize a needle.”

---

“Y’know how you said to never remove a weapon if you’re impaled?”

Don swiveled around in his chair, only able to see a green and red blur through his magnifying visor. He pushed it up and away from his eyes with the back of his grungy hand, and found a little more red decorating the scene than he would have liked.

“Raphael,” he began evenly, “would you care to explain how this happened?”

Standing on the threshold of his brother’s lab, Raphael shifted from foot to foot. The sai embedded in his shoulder wobbled slightly, but he didn't so much as wince. “No,” he finally said.

Donnie put a hand to his face for a moment, drawing in a steadying breath. “At least have the decency to go get the suture kit, then.”

Raph grinned guiltily, then went for the kit.

---

“Heeey, Donnie,” Leo drawled.

Donatello froze, hunched over his workspace. “What did you do?”

Leo must have taken that as an invitation to enter, because his bare feet padded farther into the room, stopping just behind Don. He rested a hand heavily on his brother’s shoulder. “Why assume I did something? Do I need an ulterior motive to check in on my little bro?”

Donnie’s mouth thinned into a line as he stared bemusedly at his latest robotics project. “Well we could start with the slurred speech and the weave in your gait.”

He shrugged Leo’s hand off and turned around in the worn desk chair. It was lucky he did, it gave him just enough time to snatch Leo’s arm before he completely busted his shell. The fast-bruising welt on his head proved Don’s theory.  

“Did you hit your own head, or did Raph finally snap?”

For a second, Leo looked like he was going to deny it, then his shoulders fell and he sighed. “I lost a fight with the cabinet above the stove. Think you could check for a concussion?”

“Only if I get lifetime mocking rights,” he shot back. “Fearless Leader Felled by Cast Iron Pan From Above, what a headline.”

Leo sat heavily on the spare stool. “Fine, fine.”

Don plucked his penlight from the pencil cup and swiveled toward his brother. “See, this is why Mikey doesn’t let you in the kitchen.”

---

“Excuse me, Donatello.”

Donnie startled in his chair. Master Splinter always surprised him like that; he could hear his brothers coming from a mile away, but never their father. He stood and turned to face him, bowing quickly. “Yes, Sensei—oh.”

Master Splinter stood on the threshold of the lab, holding out his shaking paws—the pads of which were an angry red, and growing blisters quickly. Donatello practically picked his father up in the process of getting him to a place to sit down.

“Leo!” He hollered in the general direction of the dojo, hoping that’s where his brother was. “Bring ice! Sensei, you should have put these under the faucet immediately,” he chided softly.

“Yes, my son, I realized that halfway here.” He chuckled, despite how painful it must have been to have Donnie poking and prodding at his hands. “What is it that you say? Six, half dozen?”

Donnie laughed too, he couldn't help it. Anything sounded like a wise old Japanese proverb when Master Splinter said it. And the fact that his first thought had been to go to his son…well, Donnie knew he was no doctor, but it was touching how much trust his family placed in him.

Leo, bless him, showed up less than sixty seconds later with ice wrapped in a thin dish towel. “Sensei!” He sucked a breath through his teeth, catching a glimpse of his burned paws before Donnie placed the ice on top of them. “What happened?”

He looked at his sons from beneath his thick brows, one ear twitching. “We shall tell your brothers a different story, but…I was trying to make tea,” he finally relented.

Donnie’s hand audibly smacked against his forehead. Leave it to the master ninja to give himself partial thickness burns with a pot of water.

Leo laid a hand on Sensei’s shoulder. “We’ll tell Raph and Mikey that you were training and save you the torment.”

Sensei laughed again, more heartily this time. “Thank you, my sons.”

Donnie took the ice away from his hands. “Hmm, that doesn't look good. Let's go back to the kitchen and run them under water, okay?”

“Of course, Donatello. Thank you.”

Holding onto Sensei’s elbow as they left for the kitchen, Donnie beamed at the praise.

---

Three things happened at once: first, a string of very colorful language drifted from Donnie’s lab over to where his three brothers sat in front of the television; the power flickered twice and then cut out; and in the very brief, very dark silence that followed, the fire alarm in Donnie’s lab began shrilling.

All three of them jumped up without a word to one another, expertly navigating their home in the dark. 

“Donnie!” Leo called, skidding into the dark lab.

Raphael clambered on top of a workbench to silence the alarm, sending Donnie’s projects and gadgets tumbling all over. There was no fire, just the smell of smoke.

“Don?” Leo tried again. He stilled, briefly confused that he couldn't find his brother in the dark. Usually he would at least hear his breathing—

Oh shell, he wasn't breathing.

The three of them realized as one, and the scramble began anew. Leo fell to his hands and knees to find his brother, Mikey went for the emergency floodlight on the wall, and Raph left the lab altogether. By the time he came back with the AED, Leo was already halfway through a round of compressions.

CPR on a turtle was…complicated. Their hearts were dead center in their chest, to begin with, which meant ‘the medial joint of their plastron’s scutes prevented compressions too deep’, as Donatello had so technically said. Donnie assured them all that if a scute was cracked or bruised during compressions, it would be okay. But now that Leonardo actually had his brother's plastron beneath his palms, hearing and feeling the groan of it every time he pressed down, he didn't feel so certain.

Raph knelt on Donnie’s other side while Mikey stood over them with the flashlight, trying to illuminate as much of the scene as possible.

“Do you smell that?” Mikey asked, voice shaking.

Yeah, they smelled it. Burned flesh was hard to miss. But treating whatever other wounds Donnie had sustained had to come second to his heart.

Raph tore the paper off the AED pads and carefully placed them just like Don taught him, then pressed the on switch. They all nearly jumped out of their shells when Donnie’s voice, thin and tinny, came out of the AED. “Analyzing cardiac rhythm,” it said. 

Raph wanted to cover his ears. If the last time he heard his brother’s voice was from the stupid AED—

“Administering shock. Stay clear of the patient.”

“Clear,” Raph said.

“Clear,” both of his brothers echoed, Leo holding his hands up near his head to prove it.

“Shock will be delivered in 3…2…1…” Donnie jolted once as electricity shot through him. “Shock administered, check pulse and breathing and resume compressions if necessary.”

Raph put his fingers on Don’s neck, then shook his head. Leo moved to resume compressions, but he signaled him to stop. No, there was something there…

Both brothers froze.

“I have a pulse, but he’s not breathing.” Without giving his brothers any time to respond to that information, Raph lifted one meaty fist and brought it down hard on the center of Don’s chest. 

Donnie took a deep breath, eyes flying open in terror. He wobbled on his shell, off-balance in a panicked effort to flee. Three sets of hands came down on his chest to stop him.

“Donnie, don't move,” Leo said urgently. He took his brother’s pulse, actually timing it this time, and listened to his heavy, ragged breathing for a moment.

The power came back on.

“What the fuck, Don!” Raph yelled.

He looked between his brothers, clearly disoriented, but less panicked with a good view of his surroundings. “Sorry,” he gasped out. He accepted his their help as he struggled to sit up, hands over his plastron. “Ough, my chest. What happened?”

Leo grabbed his hands, flipping them palms up. He wrinkled his nose. Well, he figured out where the burned flesh smell came from—Donnie’s palms were both blistered and slightly charred, but it didn't seem to cover too much surface area.

“We were kinda hopin’ you could tell us,” Raph sighed out, adrenaline ebbing.

Donnie eyed the AED, then looked over Raph’s head up to his workstation. He blinked a few times, then smiled sheepishly. “I, uh. I think I forgot to unplug it.”

They followed Donnie’s eyes up to the unidentifiable appliance on the workbench. Whatever it was, Donnie had long stripped it of its housing and any other identifiable features. Other than that it was made of metal and plugged into the wall, they didn't have a clue what it was.

“You knucklehead,” Raph muttered. “I’d kill you if I hadn’t just finished savin’ your skin.” He ripped the pads off Don’s chest and tossed them in the AED bag, standing up to wash his hands of the whole affair.

Mikey scooted into Raph’s spot and threw his arms around Donnie’s neck. “Don’t ever do that again! I thought you were toast, bro!”

“Don’t do what again?” Splinter appeared in the doorway, body-blocking Raphael. He tapped his cane on the ground, whiskers twitching.

“Oh—Sensei, uh. I just had…an accident. Everything’s okay now. No need to worry.” He tried for a smile. It was too wobbly to be reassuring. 

He gave all four of his sons an incredibly unamused stare. They all ducked their heads, still unwilling or unable to stick their ground in the face of that all-knowing look. “Leonardo, how badly is he wounded?”

“It’s not too bad, Sensei.” He held Donnie’s burned hand out, showing him the minor damage. “I’m more worried about the fact that your heart stopped, Donnie.”

Donatello had the decency to look ashamed. “It probably didn’t stop,” he muttered. “Most likely, it was ventricular fibrillation.”

“Oh, that sure makes me feel better,” Raph drawled sarcastically. “I guess he’s fine, guys, let’s all hit the hay. Are you stupid, Donnie? No—don’t answer that.”

“I’m fine! You guys knew exactly what to do, so I'm fine. Just a little bruised up.”

Splinter, with his ears pressed flat against his head, closed his eyes momentarily and took a deep breath. “You four will be the end of me. Donatello, be honest—what side effects should we prepare for?”

He pulled his hands away from Leo, using the side of one to rub absently at his chest. “Uhh, nothing much. Just, uh, that my heart doesn’t…stop again. Or something like that.”

“Oh, sure, nothin’ too serious,” Raph scoffed.

Only the telltale twitch of their father’s whiskers alerted them to his vague irritation. “You will be sleeping in the infirmary bed tonight, my son. Come, help your brother up.”

Mikey and Leo got Donnie to his feet pretty quickly, and Raph put a hand on the back of his shell as if to say ‘there, I participated, are you happy?’ They helped him the few steps to the infirmary cot, which Donnie was surprised to actually need. Not only did his legs seem unwilling to comply—it seemed that the electricity had left an exit wound on the bottom of his left foot.

Master Splinter sat in the chair beside the cot, pulling the rolling cart of medical supplies closer to himself. “I will treat the burns while you set up the heart monitor.”

“Guys, really, I'm okay.” Even as Leo started sticking EKG nodes on him and Raph clipped the pulse oximeter on one green finger, he protested. “The likelihood of going into v-fib again is infinitesimal.”

“Ahh, darn, looks like we can't comply with your complaints if we can't understand the words yer usin’,” Raphael drawled.

Splinter gently drew Donnie’s burned hand into his own. “My son, it is you that so often cares for us when we are injured or unwell. Let us return the favor now and care for you.”

Donnie smiled in spite of himself, looking down at his lap as he felt heat rise in his cheeks. “Okay, I guess that makes sense. Thank you, Sensei.”

“Didja hit your head on the way down?” Raph asked, standing behind his head.

“Uh, I don't think so. No bumps, no headache.”

“Good.” A smack reverberated around the room. “Be smarter next time, genius.”

Don lurched forward, hands raised instinctively to protect the head that Raph smacked. “Ow! Talk about insult to injury!”

“That's actually injury to injury,” Raph corrected, leaning into his field of vision. “You die, an’ I'm gonna dig you up just to kill you again. You hear?”

Donnie winced as Master Splinter made his first pass with the antibacterial gel on his hand. “Loud and clear, boss,” he grumbled.

Maybe, just maybe, it would be okay to let himself be taken care of.

Just this once.

[starrose17]

Lokius 'Passengers' AU

So I really want a Lokius AU to the movie Passengers.

Like, Loki has somehow snuck aboard the ship (named The TVA, of course) in a spare life pod without anyone noticing, but as it wasn’t properly configured to him it opens half way through the 200 year journey. He’s alone on this giant spaceship, no knowledge on how to get the pod working again (though he’s smart and he tries but nope), and with only minimal level pass to entertainment and food that he stole from another passenger before he went into suspended animation. 

At first it’s great, he was running away after all, and out here alone there was no one to hurt him. So he enjoys his time, plays the virtual computer games, breaks into the penthouse suite on the top deck and makes home there, gets into the space suit that’s tethered to the ship and goes for a float out in space where only he exists. Sure the same cereal every day for breakfast gets annoying, but at least he’s got the bar man to talk to, the robot behind the bar named Ob, even if he is a bit mental.

But after 2 years, it’s not fun anymore. He’s got the endless high scores on all the games, he’d rather eat his own hair then that same cereal again, he’s tired of his own voice echoing against the never ending metal hallways, and the space outside is just...cold. Empty.

Alone.

He’s lets himself go, he doesn’t care anymore, doesn’t shower, doesn’t shave, soon his beard is as tangled as his unwashed curly hair, and every day he screams at the life pod that brought him to his own silent hell. He’d tried every possible way to get into the restricted life pod section where all the crew were, but nothing would open those heavily enforced doors.

Ob’s a robot, he doesn’t understand, he doesn’t feel, and after drinking what must be half the contents of that bar Loki finds himself standing in the air lock, without the tethered suit, hand hovering over the button that would open those doors and suck him out into oblivion.

But he scares himself, and he drops the bottle held in his other hand and runs, back through the decks, through the life pod section, and in his haste trips over one of the many bottles surrounding his own pod. He tumbles and ends up splattered on top of another pod. Blinking through his drunken suicidal haze, he looks down at the grey-haired head beneath him.

All it took was that look for all those dark thoughts to disappear.

More under the cut...

He becomes rather obsessed with this passenger, this, ‘Mobius M Mobius’ written on the pod. He looks him up on the ships computer, the man was a divorced ex-jet ski salesman, ready to leave his life behind to start a new adventure out there in the unknown, wanting to write a book about it. 

Loki talks about him endlessly with Ob, who just stares at him smiling animatedly reminding him he told him this yesterday. And the day before that. And the week before that. In the end, it seemed even robots could get exasperated, as Ob finally suggests, 

“Why don’t you wake him up?”

Loki immediately refuses, he couldn’t do that, he couldn’t put someone in his position, alone out here for the rest of his life. But the idea was there now, and it ate away at him. He’d spend hours staring at Mobius in that pod, hands itching towards the controls, towards the “Emergency Revival” selection on the touch screen. He’d walk away, he’d walk back, he’d tell himself no, he’d dream about yes.

Eventually the loneliness starts to get at him again, and without even thinking of any consequences he can’t stand living like this anymore. He needs someone, anyone, please. He shaves off his beard, he showers for the first time in...when did he last shower? He makes himself look presentable and handsome then suddenly he’s pressing the button.

Bleary, but gorgeous blue eyes open, and suddenly Loki is faced with the inevitably of what he’d just done. Lies pour from his mouth, that there was a malfunction with the pods, that it seemed it was just the two of them, that he has no idea what had happened.

But this Mobius was a determined man, and before barely saying hello he was up out of the pod and down yanking out wires from the console. He wasn’t a mechanic but he knew a bit and was going to try and get it working again. Loki had tucked the few wires he’d cut out as he waited for Mobius to fully revive into the back pocket of his trousers. 

After some time, and with the help of Loki being nice and chatty and knowing more about the ship having been awake for longer, Mobius starts to relax, the initial fear and anger of knowing he was going to spend the rest of his life with just this curly haired man for company finally having to be accepted and put to one side.

Loki was so excited he couldn’t put it into words, he dragged Mobius everywhere, showed him the ship, got him playing as Player Two on all the games he’d grown so bored of, games that were now fun with him there. They drank at the bar together, making fun of Ob who didn’t understand he was being mocked and continued to smile autonomously, and talked about each others lives before, Mobius’ jet skis that he missed and Loki...well, Loki chose a set of lies and stuck to them.

Mobius was flabbergasted to find Loki had been eating the same breakfast and the same choice of 3 evening meals for 2 years, and got out his platinum access card that he'd saved up for years before embarking on this trip, and piled their table high with so much food Loki’s eyes practically bulged at the sight of it.

They floated around in space together, laughing, Loki having forgotten what his own laugh sounded like, and very much loving the sound of Mobius’. They’d sit together in the observation deck, side by side, watching through heavy filters as the ship passed by a nearby sun, and Loki would sit closer, one knee touching Mobius’, and Mobius wouldn’t move away.

Loki knew he’d fallen hard for Mobius, probably the moment he saw him really, the man had saved his life in a way Mobius would never know, so when Mobius knocked on the broken door of Loki’s penthouse suite, dressed in a smart dark suit and holding a bottle of champagne, asking Loki to join him for dinner, Loki could do nothing but grin.

It wasn’t long before they both ended up back at the penthouse, and both of their suits were discarded on the floor.

For a long time, everything was perfect. The food was perfect, the entertainment was perfect, the sex was perfect. Loki could not remember any point in his life where he’d been happier than stuck on this space ship now 97 years before landing, with a man so embedded into his heart he wasn’t sure if he could go just one day without being by his side.

Ob would serve them drinks with his ever-present grin, they’d swim naked in the pool with nothing but starlight coming in from the large windows to their space outside, and every night Loki would end up warm and sated and perfectly comfortable, wrapped up in those loving arms without a care in the world.

Loki could have spent the rest of his life without telling the man he truly loved how he really came to be awake on this ship. He’d pushed that knowledge far away deep inside him with all the other unpleasant secrets in his life. But then a meteor storm hits, and one little shitty meteor gets through the shields and knocks into something that starts making everything electrical, which is everything, go haywire. It doesn’t last long, the computer system was smart and had a way of fixing itself, but the disruptions went on for long enough that it caused Ob to start spurting out random conversations he’d had with Loki years ago, including suggesting that Loki wake up Mobius.

The held back fury in Mobius’ eyes as Loki approached him in the bar for their evening drink stops Loki in his tracks, wiping the grin from his face as he held onto the homemade ring in his pocket that he’d made from bits of scrap. He was going to ask tonight.

He'd never get a chance now.

He couldn’t lie now, and when Mobius asked him through suppressed rage if Loki had deliberately awoken him, deliberately stranded him here for the rest of his life, with no chance of getting home or to the colony or having any of his aspirations for his future come to light...Loki was silent for a moment, before the word “Yes” quietly passed his lips.

Mobius doesn’t hit him, he’s not that sort of man, but his rage comes out in full force and he yells, screams, throws a bar stool barely missing Loki’s head. He swears if he sees Loki again he’ll throw him out the airlock, to murder him just like Loki had done to him, before he smashes a glass at Loki’s feet and storms away, leaving Loki alone.

Loki is terrified, not just for the revelation of the truth, but what this would mean for him, for them, to be trapped on a ship not knowing if he’d wake up in the morning dead. One night that very thought almost came true, and Loki was awoken by Mobius straddling him where he lay and his fist punching into the pillow by his head as he yelled at him once more. Mobius wasn’t violent, he couldn’t hit him no matter how much he wanted to, so this was the only way to let out his frustration and pure anger.

Loki let him, awaiting for that fist to make contact, to hit his head and to be beaten to a pulp. When Mobius reached for the knife he had on him, part of him knowing he’d never use it but just so angry, holding it to Loki’s throat...only then did he stop.

Loki still hadn’t said a word.

“Why are you just lying there? Why aren’t you telling me stop?!” he demanded through panting breaths, but Loki just continued to stare up at him, eyes so terribly, terribly sad, and didn’t say a word.

He deserved it. After what he’d done, he deserved to be killed by the love of his life.

Mobius stared at him, and for a moment his own eyes flashed a mirror of Loki’s loneliness, before he let out a frustrated yell and throws the knife to the floor, getting up and disappearing as quickly as he came.

Loki doesn’t see him for a long time afterwards, except for meals, where they’re forced into the same room. Mobius no longer gives him any of his constantly changing and delicious food, and is stuck with the same sloppy cereal, looking utterly dejected. Mobius always takes his food somewhere else, away from him, and Loki could see how much Mobius still hated him, so never said a word.

Eventually Loki figures out how to get on the speaker system for the ship, and knowing Mobius is out there somewhere he starts to tell the truth. The real truth. About how he was the son of the famous war criminal Odin, the reason for half the wars on the ravished earth, but Loki wanted nothing to do with him anymore, so had run, run as far as he could, trying to escape his connection with him and so sneaking on board this ship that would take him billions of miles away to start a new life. That he woke up not through a mechanical fault, but because he wasn’t supposed to be there.   He told him how he’d tried to kill himself, how seeing Mobius saved his life, about how long he’d spent wondering if he could wake him up. He admitted he knew what he did was wrong, but he was so desperate, so desperately desperate, that he wasn’t thinking right. All he could think of was that a choice between eternal loneliness, or Mobius, he picked Mobius.

He knew it was wrong, knew it was selfish, and he was so so sorry, but as he was being honest, he’d do it again. He said he knew Mobius hated him now, and he had every right to, but Loki still loved him, forever would love him, and if there was any chance at all of reconciling this, to please, say something the next time they ran into each other. Please. Please. 

“Eternal loneliness is not a good prospect, believe me...I know.” he sobs.

But the only words Mobius says to him the next time they see each other, are said softly, and dangerously:

“You’re a murderer.”

And all hope is lost for Loki.

Months go by, and strange things keep happening on the ship, flickering lights, the little cleaning robots going haywire, the gravity going in the swimming pool area, nearly drowning Loki as he floated upwards in ball of water he couldn’t get out of.

He wished he had drowned.

Mobius still hadn’t said anything else, but when they did run into each other, Mobius would at least look back at him as they past, not that Loki had noticed as he kept his head bowed away in shame. More and more times Mobius’ eyes would linger on him, and more and more times it was less anger, more...something else, something calm.

Mobius had tried to imagine, after Loki’s speech over the speaker system, what it would have been like to be alone for so long. He couldn’t image it really. He’d spoken to the repaired Ob about it, about exactly the kind of hardship Loki had gone through, and Ob would tell him how tragically terrible Loki had looked for a long time, and how morally conflicted he’d been over waking Mobius up. When he asked Ob if he knew Loki had tried to kill himself, Ob had just shrugged and smiled as always,

“I’m glad he didn’t. Who was I going to make drinks for? I would be very lonely too.”

Something had been tugging inside Mobius for almost a year now, every time he saw Loki, and saw just how dejected he looked.  It was difficult to remain angry with the only other human being on the ship, and despite knowing what Loki had done, despite knowing that Mobius’ life was now permanently confined to these metal walls, he found himself...missing him. He missed their conversations, he missed the flirting, hell he missed that insufferable little sneer he did when he’d regain his high score from Mobius on one of the VR games. He missed the company. He missed his warmth in bed. Oh for goodness sake he missed that talkative obnoxious gorgeous little shit, and despite everything he still felt something for him. He’d loved him once, and it was still there, buried under alot of anger, but it was there.

He walked past Loki the next morning, holding a tray of bacon, eggs, sausages and toast with jam, placing the tray next to Loki’s pointless little cereal bowl and walking away without saying a word.

If he had turned around and seen that glimmer of hope in Loki’s eyes, he probably would have run back to him.

The electronic failures were getting worse, something truly wasn’t right, and it came to it that they were going to have to work together to find out what was wrong. For the first time they held a tentative conversation, and after a long search of the ship found the meteor from over a year ago and gone straight through the fusion engine, and not being repaired the damn thing was close to exploding. The release valve to vent the engine was smashed to bits, and knowing a bit about ships Loki knew there had to be a manual release from the outside.  Without even discussing it Loki puts on a space suit, Mobius asking what the hell he was doing.

“Well I can’t let you risk your life...I’ve done enough to you already.”

He pauses in putting on the helmet, quickly deciding to lean over to steal a kiss from Mobius before putting it on and picking up part of the heat shield off the engine that had broken. Mobius is rooted to the spot staring at him, before Loki heads outside the ship and down into the vent, releases the valve and uses the shield that barely covers his body as protection from the radiation that goes shooting past him. Mobius is yelling into his comm, telling Loki to get out of there, that he won’t survive this, that Loki was the one who woke him up he can’t leave him alone now, “Don’t leave me alone!”

The vent is too strong, too much, and eventually it blasts Loki away from the ship, heading off into space with a cracked visor, oxygen escaping fast. Mobius runs faster than ever before to the airlock, space suit on, Loki still slowly talking in his ear, saying he’s sorry for everything, that he wishes Mobius to be happy, to maybe try writing that book now, so when everyone else awakes they can read about the best passenger this ship will ever have. To know about the best man there ever was.

“SHUT UP LOKI!! I’m coming to get you! You think I’m gonna forgive you if you die I love you stay the fuck alive!!”

It was possibly the first time Loki had ever heard Mobius swear.

But the remaining space suit that Mobius uses is the one with the tether, and as he pushes himself off from the ship, floating quickly towards Loki who’s now quite far away, the tether pulls him short just inches from Loki’s outstretched hand. He can do nothing but watch that small, sad smile, obscured by the oxygen leaking from Loki’s helmet as he floats awa. 

“I love you...” Loki whispers, “and I’m sorry...for everything.”

“…..no.”

With fiercely determined eyes Mobius unhooks himself from the tether and cuts his own oxygen line, the releasing air pushing himself towards Loki, Mobius grabbing him and turning the line behind them to push them back towards the ship. By the time they get back inside and remove their helmets both are gasping for air, collapsing to the ground in a heaving heap. Loki then pushes the rest of the suit off him while Mobius is still on the ground, pounces on him, and kisses him hard. He pulls back quickly though, eyes asking if this is ok, and Mobius just cups the back of his head and brings him down for another kiss.

“We’re alive. And we’re staying that way. I love you.” Mobius grins.

They do the remaining repairs to the shield as best that can, and find themselves standing, hand in hand, in the main communal area that leads off to restaurants and clubs, Ob’s bar, and what would have been the night life of the ship.

“This place needs a little green, don’t you think?” Mobius asks.

In 95 years, the rest of the passengers and the crew would awake to a communal area filled with trees and flowers and small forest animals and birds, once all in suspended animation in the hold in a lot less complicated life pods, now all wild and free. And there, in a makeshift hut amongst the greenery, would lie a pile of books, now covered in dust, the series entitled;

‘For All Time – Always’ - by Mobius and Loki

[jinnie-ret]

oddinary house pt 1

cyborg!chan x reader

genre: horror

content warnings: electrocution

word count: 1.7k

summary: a girl approaches oddinary house, no idea of what would be inside

ODDINARY HOUSE MASTERLIST

MAIN MASTERLIST

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

This was a mistake, the young girl thought to herself as she warily approached the dark, abandoned mansion that barely held itself up in front of her. Metal railings that would have once protected this home were bent and twisted in all sorts of different directions, like someone had once fought to escape the place. Or maybe it was to stay inside the grounds that were overwhelmed with weeds and ivy running up the sides of the building. Yet, despite it's unwelcoming aura, there were some signs of life, such as the electricity running through the red neon sign that said 'Oddinary House'. Albeit was flashing, she at least knew she was at the right place.

It was a mysterious predicament she had found herself in, yes. The letter she had received a week ago inviting her over for the week leading up to Halloween had been very convincing. There was promises of permanence her childhood home had never given her. Sentences that enticed her into the feeling of safety, which contrasted with the appearance of the mansion, she must say, but hey, she wasn't going to judge a book by it's cover. Quite frankly, she didn't know why she was here, but there was also something in the back of her mind reminding her that she had nothing to lose. Even if she was to never be seen again, she wouldn't mind that. Anything to be rid of the same four walls she was restricted to the whole of her life.

As she approached the front door, she wondered, should she knock? It was completely see through, offering a transparency to the house the girl hadn't expected. They must be anticipating her entrance, the guests of the house who offered her a cleaning job, to fix and repair the house and help restore it to it's original form. She decided, she should knock, with such big responsibility about to be in her hands, it was only right to treat the place with such respect. Yet, as she rose her hand to tap at the door, it slowly opened on its own accord, like it had a mind of its own. There was no wind to explain what had just happened in front of her very eyes.

"Hello?" she called out timidly, wincing as her boots met the creaks of the rotting wooden floors. She'd have to keep an eye out for that.

"Come. Forward."

The girl jumped as the robotic voice sounded from around her. Where was it coming from? It was like it had been tuned into surround sound speakers, and how could they see her?

"You are finally here," the voice spoke again, words disjointed.

The girl turned again to see a... man? Except it wasn't quite a man, it was more like a half man, half robot. A bolt was screwed into his right ear, and half of his face had been invaded by metal plates. His blue eyes mirrored that of which she could only assume was blue synthetic hair.

"Are you... Mr Yang?" she asked nervously, surprised to say the least. She couldn't remove her gaze from his electric blue ones.

"Mr Yang is, pre, pre, preoccupied with other matters," he began, head suddenly jolting to the side as smoke came out of his ear, until he could eventually get the words out.

"Are you okay?" the girl asked concerned, a frown appearing on her face. This was surely no environment for a robot to be in, the whole reception area of the house was damp, droplets dripping onto some open wires. In fact, she was sure she saw the robot flinch when water met the copper plates of the wires.

"I am OK. I am... Not... me," the robot man said abruptly, hands struggling to lift his glasses back on his face. She noticed the open machinery on his arms, embedded into his fingers and running up his arms, acting as joints and muscles.

"Here let me help," the girl cautiously pushed the man's glasses further up his face.

"Thank you. What is your name?"

"Y/N. Y/N L/N. I was offered a job by Mr Yang to work here, in a letter. What's your name?" Y/N explained to the robot, before returning the favour, unable to hide her curiosity no longer.

"My model is CB97, but they call me Chan," Chan nodded rigidly, his answer seeming to have taken longer to load than his other words, like it was the first time in a while he had been asked this.

"Nice to meet you Chan... ummm, what do I do now? I was told to expect a tour of the place," Y/N retold the words she has read in the letter she had somehow misplaced, but she remembered every word.

Unfortunately, the words seemed to have stirred up a malfunction, what the girl could only assume was Chan's anger.

"No. No tour. Wait. Wait here. Then it will happen," Chan's blue eyes glowed brighter. Then his metallic body shifted to stand, a buzzing sound echoing around the room as he slowly but surely approached her.

"Wait here? Is Mr Yang coming here or not?" Y/N asked, now a bit frightened at the cyborg clanking its way towards her.

"Wait," Chan stopped in his tracks, a few feet away from Y/N, as his feet became planted into the floors, like there were outlets that he generated energy from.

"Chan, what is happening?" Y/N asked again, fear filling her from the unknown of what would happen next.

"Welcome to Oddinary House. Take a seat behind you. My name is CB97. I will send you to your room. Thank you for choosing to stay with Oddinary House. We hope all of your monsterous needs are fulfilled," Chan froze in his robot form, blue sparks flying from his body as his mind went on autopilot and he spoke what seemed like a monologue he was very used to. Or perhaps he was programmed to do so.

Y/N was taken aback when she found herself suddenly strapped into a chair as silver cuffs kept her wrists against the arms of the leather chair, her ankles being strapped in against the legs of it.

"Chan? Chan, what's going on?!" Y/N yelled out terrified as she tried to wiggle out of the chair.

His feet were unplugged from the ground, and he marched behind her chair, resting his hands on the sides of her head with an expressionless face.

"Name."

"Chan what is this?!"

"We cannot find that in our records. Name."

"It's Y/N, you already know that!"

"Y/N. Age 20. You are staying in room 143."

"Chan listen to me! Chan?!" Y/N's tears ran freely down her face and she could her them fizzling against Chan's fingers that framed her face as her head was held still.

"Your stay here will be indefinite. There is no time listed."

"CB97!!!" Y/N desperately shouted, and that's when the buzzing that had filled her ears stopped, and the girl didn't know of it was for the better of for the worse.

The clanking of the metal marched once again, Chan, or CB97 standing in front of her, yet this time, he had a red eye alongside a blue one, instead of both of them remaining the same colour.

It was for the worse.

"CB97. Umm, release. Yeah, release! CB97. Release," Y/N cleared her throat, trying to be firm and hide away her shakiness so that the robot would listen to her and understand what she was saying. The metal cuffs were now beginning to feel really tight and the fact that her stay at this building was indefinite, was making her even more scared. Yet, a sad part of her still felt safer being restrained and unable to move in front of an unpredictable creature, than at home with her family.

"Request. Denied."

"No, no, no! Chan, listen! CB97, explain! What will happen now?" Y/N whimpered after knowing that she wouldn't be freed.

"Y/N. Y-y-you, will, b-b-b-be taken t-to your room. You cannot leave," Chan's voice became deeper yet he seemed to be bugging out, and suddenly wires sprang out from the uncovered workings on his arms and they connected to the metal cuffs. Electricity charged into the metal, and Y/N screamed out in pain as she was electrocuted.

"Ahh! Ahh! Stop! Stop!" her screams rang out around the room.

Chan's body was jolting and nearly bouncing in its place as the electricity ran out from his body and be finally shut down, like he was being restarted. Y/N sighed in relief, body going lax in the chair as her body was exhausted from the electricity having been forced into it.

"CB97. Restarting."

"Chan?" Y/N whispered, seeing his eyes shutter open and close before they turned back on, and thankfully revealed his normal blue eyes.

"Y/N. Extreme body exhaustion detected. Cause: electrocution." Chan reported as his eyes did a scan on Y/N's body. "Explain how this happened."

"Chan, you sort of malfunctioned and then some wires came out and got me. You sort of just went... out of control?" Y/N stared at the robot in front of her, and there was a flash of human emotions in his eyes, an almost furrow of the brows.

"CB97 malfunctioned. We apologise for this mishap. Chan will do better. Next time," Chan's head tilted downwards and he genuinely looked apologetic.

"Chan, I just want to rest now," Y/N said tiredly. She could see her frizzy hair out of the corner of her eyes and her arms nearly felt limp.

"CB97 will send you away now."

And with that, the chair started moving quickly down what seemed like a never ending hallway, and as it slowly started to begin to move, Y/N saw Chan return to his space behind the reception desk. It passed through a long hallway, different patchy wallpapers seen as she sped forwards at what felt like the speed of light.

The motions were too much, to the point where Y/N passed out, slouched in the chair. The only semblance she had of where she was, was when she felt the softness of a bed, a blanket encompassing her body. That slight moment of consciousness allowed her to see the door to her room close, a bat flying through the small gap before it did.

What had she gotten herself into?

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[cursedvida]

SAD EYES, BROKEN SMILE III (Buggy x F!Reader)

PART II // PART IV

WARNINGS: violence, swearing, Buggy being angry.

N/A: thirth part of this series, it's not gonna be so much longer. I hope you enjoy!

After revealing your ability to knock a guy down with just a couple of blows, your pretensions of going unnoticed within the crew have become quite impossible. You have caught the attention of Buggy, who on the one hand seems quite interested in your skills, but on the other is somewhat suspicious of you. And no wonder, in his eyes you have gone from being a helpless young girl to a killing machine, that has to confuse anyone. 

The day after what happened in the tavern he calls you to his cabin. It's the first time you've been alone with him since you found him that night in the ship's hold. You are very nervous, not because he might blow your cover but because he is so close to you. Buggy is not an overly muscular man but he is very tall, at least two feet taller than you. It was something you hadn't paid much attention to until now. Having him so close to you makes your chest tighten, making you feel ridiculous. 

"So tell me, Y/N.... why hadn't it occurred to you to tell me that you can finish a man off in half a minute?"

Buggy's voice sounds soft, almost seductive. He's using a patronizing tone. You've been watching him long enough over the past few months to know it's his way of hiding an impending anger.

"Do you think i'm an idiot?" There he is, he's just pulled out the genie. He abruptly turns to you and approaches, positioning himself dangerously close. "Tell me, do i look like a joke to you?"

You should be nervous about having to come up with some excuse but actually all you can think about is that you see him as a very kissable person. Obviously, you can't say that. 

"Did you really think I'm gonna believe the story of you not minding important to tell me about your fighting skills?"

"I..."

"Tell me the truth, Y/N. Now."

Buggy comes dangerously close to your face, his nose almost brushing against yours. He must think your nervousness is because he's caught you, but the truth is your heart is going so fast because you're holding him so close and it feels like a sin not to eat his mouth. Every day that passes your desire for him grows and at times like this you find it hard to control yourself.

"Well?" he insists, getting impatient. 

You snap back to reality, you must answer something. You sigh, perhaps the best thing to do is to tell the truth.

"Okay..." you nod, pulling away from him a little. You can't center your head holding him so close, his scent clouding your sense. "I had foster parents, they were Marines. They were working as undercover agents, but they ended up in prison for treason or something. When they were arrested my sister and I escaped, but we ended up as slaves and were bought by a horrible guy who was in the business of training children to sell them as mercenaries in the future. I was one of the best, escaped from there, got my own life and blah, blah, blah..."

You were not good at telling stories but that time you have excelled, you have told it with such reluctance that anyone would say that you are summarizing a very boring novel. Buggy stares at you for a few seconds before bursting out laughing. You don't understand what's so funny, maybe you don't like to make a big deal out of it because your personal traumas have turned you into a kind of emotional robot, but it's not to make fun of other people's misfortunes either. 

"Do you really expect me to believe something like that?" 

Wow, so that's what it is, the truth has seemed too far-fetched for him. Well, good for you. 

"I have to admit, you're a good storyteller. You could use that talent for some show." You stifle a smile, one of the things you like most about that fool is how sometimes he doesn't know anything. "But I want the truth, Y/N, or we'll have a problem."

You sigh. Fuck, that's lazy, now you'll have to make something up. 

"My father was a former marine" you lie "I was trained by him." 

Buggy grimaces.

"Yes, of course the earlier story was much more interesting, it had more drama."

"I thought if I told that my father had been in the Navy you wouldn't want me in your crew" you shrug. Well, in the end a boring, simple excuse was the most convincing. 

Buggy stares at you, weighing whether to buy your excuses or not. 

"Okay, I believe you" he nods. He folds his arms and leans slightly towards you, speaking menacingly "But I hate it when people try to make a fool out of me." 

"I never have ever intended anything like that" Actually at first you did. 

"Are you sure?"

"Fuck, of course yes!" You exclaim, exasperated, stepping completely out of your role. 

Buggy pulls back, confused by your reaction. 

"What, you're offended?" he asks, incredulous "I'm the one who has the right to be angry here!"

"For God's sake, Buggy, stop thinking the whole fucking world wants to fucking laugh at you."

You've never said swear words in front of him before, nor spoken in such a rude manner. It's the first time you show him your true personality and he seems quite surprised. And a bit angry, to be honest. 

"You're obsessed with what fucking people think. Fuck it, people are bullshit." 

"How dare you talk to me like that, don't you know who I am?"

"Of course I know, everyone knows. You love make everyone know" you reply, a bit fed up now "I'm just telling you the truth."

"You don't seem very enthusiastic, maybe you don't like being on this crew anymore."

You fold your arms, he's not the only one who can be proud and stubborn, you've always been known for that too. 

"Maybe not."

Buggy's gaze seems to be on fire with rage. He's really furious. 

"Well, get the hell out then."

"No!"

That really knocks him off his feet.

"No?"

Your tone has dropped considerably, regaining your composure. 

"I'm not leaving." 

"May I ask what the hell is wrong with you?"

At this point in the conversation, and considering that you've already discovered too many cards to give up the game, perhaps it's time to tell the truth. But the one that matters. The stuff about you working as a bounty hunter or that your goal was to kidnap him is not something that seems relevant to you.

You take a breath, take a deep breath and stare at him. 

"I like you" you reply matter-of-factly.

Buggy stares at you as if he has just seen a ghost. He's speechless, that's quite a feat coming from someone who is incapable of shutting his mouth for more than two minutes. He opens his mouth slightly to say something but he can't, he gets stuck. Your confession has completely thrown him off, right now so many things are going through his head that he is unable to manage. 

"I don't care about being a pirate" since you confess, you decide to confess completely "but I like you and I don't want to leave the ship. So stop accusing me like that, it doesn't sit well with me."

Not that it feels too good to your self-esteem to see the horrified look on Buggy's face at this point, but it feels genuinely good. You've finally let it out, you've been holding it inside for so long that it's been a lump in your throat.

"Your .... Eh.... Me?" It's the only thing Buggy finds himself able to utter. 

The idea being liked by someone is not something that crosses his mind often. Buggy can brag about all his exploits and constantly bravado about his abilities, but he has always felt considerably inferior than many of his peers. He knows he inspires fear, terror even, that some of his disciples look up to him but... liking him? Why would you like him? You're quite a bit younger and very pretty. In fact you don't know it, but more than one member of the crew has commented to him once or twice that they finds you very attractive. He's sure it's a ruse or something to confuse him, there's no way you really could like him. 

"Look, I'm not going waste more time, this is a childish conversation" You tell him, once you've made your confession it's like all the nerves and fear have disappeared. You are you again. "When you calm down you look for me"

And then you make the decision to do something you've been wanting to do for weeks. You were taught that if you decide something you have to go all the way, that has always been your character. So you approach Buggy, stand on tiptoe and give him a light kiss on the lips. He stands still, motionless, like a statue. You look into those eyes that enchant you and say:

"I really wanted to do that, I'm sorry." 

And with that said you leave, returning to the deck. Buggy stares at you, static, unable to react. 

What the hell just happened?