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midnightorchids · 5 months

Note

I am kinda curious

What would Jason be like if the coffee Cafe owner!reader built in a small library in her Cafe just for him,like she saw he liked reading and went like 'yup. I am building a small library for him'

This is such a fun idea, but omg please forgive me, I went a little overboard. Once I figured out what to write, I couldn’t stop. I apologize for how long it is. Also, this is completely gender neutral, so anyone can read!

But omg also, I was literally kicking my feet and giggling writing the end lol, Anyways enjoy!

Owning a cafe was a difficult job, there was always much to do— customers to attend to, drinks to make, and maintenance to do. You were always busy, but you loved your job.

You had spent a lot of time curating the perfect atmosphere for your beloved customers. The lighting was warm, with fairy lights and lanterns dangling from the ceiling. There was wooden furniture and two old couches that sat by the glass windows. The tiny space smelled of freshly brewed coffee and sweet bread. The cafe was always inviting.

You had many regulars at the coffee shop, each one with their own story, a different purpose.

For the past six months, twice a week, every Thursday and Saturday morning, a tall man walked in. Jason, you recalled his name from the many times you prepared his drinks. He’d order the same thing every time, a small London fog and a walnut banana bread.

He’d sit at the table nearest to the entrance, his back never towards the door.

Every morning, he’d come in with a new book. You had seen him read Franz Kafka, Oscar Wilde and Jane Austen; he’d read a lot of Austen.

He was a mystery and you wanted to know more.

You found Jason quite handsome. His skin was scattered with scars and you often found yourself staring at the permanent wound near his lips. You wanted to run your fingers along it, to trace it, to kiss it.

His eyes were always kind, a deep shade of green, forest-like you’d think to yourself.

He spoke with kindness. His voice velvety and rich, much like the espresso you’d brew everyday, except his voice was never bitter, almost always doused with honey.

Sometimes you’d catch him looking over at the counter, at you, you’d hoped.

Your coworkers were afraid of him, telling you to stay away, but you couldn’t help yourself. He was like an enticing book, waiting to be read. They’d warn you, “do not engage in too much conversation with the strange man.” But it was as if they were talking to a small child, their words would go in one ear and out the other.

“Strange,” you would never use that word to describe him.

From the small talk you had with him, to his choice in books, to even his taste in tea, you’d never describe him as strange.

Gentle was the word you’d choose.

He was huge, all height and muscle, terrifying to most, however to you, he was everything but that. You saw an angel and you didn’t even know him… yet, you’d tell yourself.

There were days, where you almost gained the courage to ask for his number, maybe ask for small detail, perhaps get a glimpse of his life. But each attempt was futile. Why was it so hard to speak to him for more than five minutes, you’d curse your inability to speak to attractive men.

You were beginning to give up on your dreams of getting to know the beautiful stranger, when he walked in through door.

The conversation began as per usual.

“Morning Jason, what can I grab you today,” you asked politely. He smiled softly in return and you stare at the scar by his lip as he begins to speak.

“Uhh surprise me,” you look at him confused, he’s never done that before and he finds himself smiling harder. “Just kidding, I’ll just the take the usual please,” he says as he places his copy of Jane Eyre on the counter to take out his wallet.

“Brontë, why am I not surprised,” you reply, gazing at the book. You take the cash from his hands and your heart drops. Shades of purple and crimson coat his skin. They’re bruised, again.

“What can I say, I’m a man of taste,” he smirks. You roll your eyes and giggle.

“Now who told you that,” and he shrugs. Then there’s a lull, you don’t know what to say now. It isn’t awkward, but you find yourself starting feeling a little uneasy. God, if you only you could come up with something else to say. You shake your head slightly and begin to warm up his banana bread.

You turn around and wait for him to leave, but he doesn’t walk away to his usual table this time, instead he takes a seat next to the counter. Odd, you thought.

Jason’s gaze doesn’t leave you for a second, he watches you in admiration, you don’t quite catch on.

If you thought Jason was handsome, then he thought you belonged in a museum. You were a work of art in his eyes. The kind of beauty they wrote poetry about. Absolutely stunning.

He wanted to get to know you, speak to you, but he was afraid. If you didn’t reciprocate his feelings, then he may never be able to see you again. The trips to the cafe would no longer be necessary and he wouldn’t know what to do with himself.

However today, Jason pushes his fears aside, he feels bold. He finds his confidence and he speaks.

“Do you read much,” he asks suddenly. You place his cup of tea and bread in front of him, and nod your head.

“I do, but not what you read,” you reply and he stares into your eyes, curious. “I mostly read magazines, you know Vogue and stuff,” his smile drops a little, he’s trying really hard to not look judgemental. Cute, you think. “Kidding, I read fantasy mostly,” and his face lights up again.

“So like J.K. Rowling,” he questions.

“No, Harry Potter’s good, but I’m not really a fan of her, you know as a person. I’ve been reading a lot Neil Gaiman recently though,” you say.

“Oh fuck, yeah, she’s said some pretty crazy stuff huh,” and you nod again. “Gaiman though, I don’t think I’ve ever read his stuff before, he any good,” he asks and your eyes go wide, you’re excited.

You spend the next hour of his visit speaking to him about books, about the things that you both like.

You only part from the conversation when there was a customer.

You’ve never felt this way before, all the assumptions you made about him were true. He was an angel, a kind and gentle one.

A month goes by and you notice your relationship with Jason change. Now, instead of sitting by the entrance of the cafe, he sits near you, back against the door. A sign of trust, you assumed. He smiled more, he showed his teeth and he laughed, hard. You loved the sound of his laugh. His eyes looked brighter, greener, emerald-like. He still walked in with a new book, but when the conversation began, it was long forgotten.

You watched his bruises heal and you watched new ones appear, you were always curious, but never had the courage to ask. He’d tell you when he was ready.

As time went by, you found yourself wanting to do something for him, you wanted him to know that you cared. You thought that if your words were going to fail you, then maybe your actions would prove otherwise.

Working a closing shift at the cafe on a gloomy Tuesday evening, you find yourself thinking of different gestures you could do.

Ideas came and left, nothing felt good enough. He deserved the best. Trying to busy your mind elsewhere, you begin to sweep the floors and that’s when inspiration hits you.

There, in the coffee shop, lies an empty corner. An odd spot, not necessarily small, but also not large enough either.

A perfect fit for a decently sized bookshelf. A library, for the community, but most importantly for Jason. You smile to yourself, proud at the thought. He’d love this, you knew he would.

The next morning you find yourself drilling holes into the pale walls of the cafe, trying attach the large shelf you lugged down to the shop.

Once everything was fixed into its rightful place, you begin adding the books, by genre and then by the authors’ last names. You add many of Jason’s favourites, multiple copies of Austen. You add children’s books, comics and something for yourself.

The shelf fits right into the ambiance of the cafe, elevating it honestly. The corner looked cosy and you found yourself wanting to sit by one of the couches with a book and a cup of hot chocolate.

You stare at the shelf once more, proud. Now, you just had to wait.

Jason walks into the cafe the next day, he’s late. He arrives near closing time. It’s just you and him in the cafe, most of your staff left for the day and not many people stayed this late. It’s quiet, the only sound coming from the machines on your side of the counter. He’s holding another book in his hand, but he has no intention of reading tonight.

His hair is slicked back, and there’s a small cut on his forehead. He’s dressed in a white dress shirt and black pants. He looks like he’s coming back from a big event or maybe he’s going to one later. Either way, he looks pretty like this, his arms look more defined and you can make out the muscles on his back when he walks around the room, waiting for his drink.

His eyes wander around the cafe before settling on the bookshelf nestled in the odd corner. His eyes soften, he’s never noticed that before, it must be new, he thinks.

“When’d you get this,” he asks, his fingers running along the spines of the books. He’s smiling, there’s so many books.

“Yesterday, it’s for you,” you say, holding your breath. This is it, the moment you’ve been preparing for.

“For me,” he looks over at you as you settle his tea on the counter. You begin walking over to his side, slowly, riddled with nerves.

“Yes, since you’re always here, I thought you’d like having a book shelf here. It’s like a library, you take a book and then you-“ he cuts you off suddenly.

“You made a library for me in your cafe, are you serious,” he’s trying to hold back a smile, you can tell. His scar gets more prominent when he does that. “Why,” he as asks, his voice is soft, it feels like warm milk with honey, comforting.

“You’re gonna make me say it,” you can’t see your face, but it feels hot, you can tell you’re blushing.

“Yeah, say it. Why is there a library in your cafe for me,” he says, enunciating the words “your” and “for me.” He’s smirking now. He knows the answer, he just wants to hear it from you.

The point of the library was to not have to say anything, for your actions to speak for you, but here you are. Ears burning and palms clammy.

“I…,” you trail off, you look around the room, anywhere but his face. He notices and walks closer, his hands gently make their way around your waist.

“Say it,” he exclaims, it’s not forceful, he’s smiling and shades of pink dust his cheeks.

You close your eyes shut, fuck, you’re going to have to say it.

“I really like you jas-,” and with that, his lips find their way to your own. You move in harmony, much like matcha and oat milk. His lips are sweet, he tastes like the banana bread, he decided to eat while pacing around the cafe. Your hands find their way to his shoulders, you pull back and smile. You peck his lips. Once where the scar is and once more on the centre. He grins.

“You don’t know how long I’ve waited to hear that from you,” he mumbles against your lips, waiting for you to kiss him again.

And you do, you kiss him again and again.

#gn!reader #jason todd #red hood #jason todd imagine #red hood imagine #jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #jason todd headcanon #red hood headcanon #batfam

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ma1dita · 8 months

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trouble always finds me

a 'partners in crime' installment - luke castellan x dionysus!reader

words: 1.7k

summary: (pre-established relationship) The one where he could tell you were trouble from the day he met you. Luke’s perspective on trouble & how they first met! think trouble’s origin story (Luke Castellan x fem!Dionysus!reader)

warnings: none, fluff? Mr. D being a clueless dad lol also guys they’re 14 here

a/n: welcome back to the trouble!verse hehe i was inspired by Mr. D being a bit of a jerk to Percy so that the kid doesn’t off himself. Similar concept but with Luke after he first gets to camp— another version for why trouble!reader calls him angelface coming soon

(posted 1/19/24, erm unedited and not beta’d so forgive me in advance)

—

You were always trouble, Luke knew that from the day he met you.

Walking into Camp Half-Blood, worn out and weary after days of trying to not become harpy food, his arm was slung protectively over Annabeth’s shoulder as they were led onto the campgrounds. So many pity-filled eyes were focused on them after hearing what happened to Thalia, but the camp seemed promising, filled with other demigods who can resonate with what they’ve experienced. Luke thought it was too good to be true, but anything’s better in comparison to the streets they came from. You, however, looked at them in interest from afar, a playful expression on a pretty face watching their every move like him and Annie were shiny new toys to play with.

He was so sure something was off with you.

Had to be, from the deranged glimmer in your eye that would appear when something bad would happen at Camp. He’d seen it in action a couple of times before you set your sights on him— setting off fireworks during capture the flag, replacing salt with sugar in the kitchens, cutting Mr. D’s hair in his sleep; all of this causing campers and staff alike to run amok and figure out who to penalize. Each time he’d find you enjoying how it all played out, excitement brimming on the cusp of revealing yourself as the culprit as he watched you bite your tongue. But as a mischievous kid himself, he wondered why you hid it. You preferred to orchestrate the show, to make a spectacle for your personal entertainment, and with a smile too soft to be considered guilty, you were a convincing actress.

The other campers in 11 told him you’d been unclaimed for half a year now, keeping to yourself and making a safe haven within the busy cabin. You were a klutz to say the least, bringing chaos to Camp Half-Blood with a cool disposition, and you hardly seemed interested the one time Luke tried to say hi as he took the bunk next to yours.

So why the hell wouldn’t you lay off of him?

At first it was small, shoulder bumps and raised eyebrows whenever he piped up in a conversation. That, he could deal with. Luke’s a tough guy, having gone through more than a typical 14-year old would.

But then it just got annoying.

Glitter in his shampoo, his laundry load dyed purple, and shoelaces knotted together to make him stumble— things meant to be more of an inconvenience rather than an actual problem. Luke wasn’t sure what to make of it, or what to tell you. No one wants to be the new kid creating trouble, but you didn’t seem to have a problem with that.

Maybe you were a Hermes kid like him, but of that, Luke wasn’t so easily convinced—months of living in 11 would mean you’d learn all of the tricks of the trade, so it couldn’t automatically mean that you were related (a part of him also hoped you weren’t be half-siblings, or else the fact he couldn’t stop thinking of you would be slightly awkward). Perhaps a child of Apollo? When you weren’t being difficult, he’s seen you sprinkled in sunlight, usually humming a tune under your breath. Yesterday it was a song from the Sound of Music, and though he only remembers bits of a memory from a movie night with his mom years ago, he put his combat gear on slower just to hear you finish the song.

Whatever you were, it was bound to be troublesome.

—

At this point in life, Luke hasn’t had many comforts while on the run. To him there’s no such thing as action without reason, without meaning. Five years of running and not looking back makes this son of Hermes realize that he hasn’t had a chance to take a breath until he got here. It’s hard to let down your guard when you’re always supposed to be keeping watch.

He wriggles under his covers trying to relax himself before bed, purple socks sticking out of the scrappy hand-me-down blanket, and he hears a small giggle from the bed next to his. Luke shifts his weight onto his side, eyes darting to your direction in the quiet of the dark cabin.

“Nice socks.”

He blinks. Were you talking to him? His toes wiggle playfully, prompting more of your melodious laughter as he chews at his lip before he responds.

“Guess I’m getting used to them.”

“You’re getting used to a lot of things around here. That’s good,” you whisper, and thinks he can see you concocting something sinister in that brain of yours—he’s on the edge of the mattress hanging onto your every word as he realizes this is the most you’ve spoken to him.

“You did this. Why?” he says, more of a statement than a question. Why would you go out of your way for someone like him?

“Are you mad about it? Luke, right?” you mutter, a calm expression on your face shrouded in moonlight, and for a second he wonders if you actually don’t know his name until he notices the upwards quirk of your lip.

Luke catches himself then, and the realization hits him like a blow to the chest— he’s not angry at all. If anything, he hasn’t had the time to feel anything negative with the antics you’ve been pulling. You’ve proven to be quite the distraction to his circumstances, and he can’t remember the last time he’s thought about Thalia or his mom since he got here. The melancholy falls on his countenance like a better-fitting blanket than the one he has on, and your words pull him from his thoughts before they can suffocate him again.

“Sorry about your sister. I lost someone right before I got here too. My mom.”

This, he can tell, is not acting. Your eyes flicker to a polaroid strapped in the space underneath the top bunk above your head, two blurry figures huddled together in a memory.

“I’m sorry.” He’s not sure what to say. In the silence that follows, he swallows audibly. Everyone’s been worried about Annabeth, including himself that he hadn’t even thought of his own emotions being on display for everyone to see. Luke never thought you of all people would notice.

You shrug, “S’not your fault. I know when people are acting though. If you know I’m the one who’s been starting shit, why haven’t you told anyone?”

Luke almost laughs at that, a rough exhale leaving his lungs as he watches your hands clutch your quilt.

“It’s pretty entertaining, I guess. You’re annoying, but I don’t mind it. Kept my mind off of things.”

He watches you smile in the shadows now, and it shines—all lips, teeth, and sheer mirth that makes his chest feel a little lighter. A real smile from you, one that doesn’t hide your true intentions.

“I’m glad. Mine too.”

The next thing you do confuses him further, but from what he’s gathered you’re always full of surprises. You chuck your quilt across the space between your bunks, and the end of it smacks him in the face as he grunts.

“Here. Keep it,” you chuckle a bit loudly, the both of you hearing a Shhhhh… from somewhere in the dark cabin.

“What… Why? Are we friends now?” Luke mumbles jokingly, inhaling the soft scent of berries and fresh linen. His purple laundry load smelled like this too.

“No.”

“Then why are you giving me your stuff?” he says, but still curls up underneath the handmade quilt stitched from memories of a past life, of motherly love and gentle hands. He doesn’t have anything like this, so he settles into this feeling of comfort instead, even if it wasn’t his memory to hold. You go quiet at the sight of him, eyes fluttering and chin tucked into the pink and purple fabric, and he looks as soft as a normal 14 year old boy should.

“It’s getting boring in here. Gonna have to change it up soon, I think,” you mumble, turning away and shutting your eyes before he can say anything else.

—

The next day, you get caught putting a month’s supply of bubble bath into the lake, but Luke’s convinced you did it on purpose. All of camp is standing on the shore, watching you wave at them from a river tube as Chiron and Mr. D yell at you in exasperation—finally revealing yourself as the troublemaker they’ve been searching for.

“Get on the beach this instant, young lady! You have no idea how much trouble you’ve put us through!” Mr. D’s voice echoes across the lake, his immortal form almost filtering through his frustration before you laugh in his face, unthreatened by the Olympian.

“Good thing I get it from you. Hello, dad!”

Jaws drop as everyone turns to look at Mr. D, the realization hitting his face as he points at you, his brain moving a mile a minute. Though you resemble your mother, your actions are all him. You revel in the grand reaction, looking up to see a purple thyrsus surrounded by grape leaves float over your head.

“Nice outfit, kid. I don’t think purple is your color. She do that to you too?” Mr. D notes Luke’s wine colored cargos and socks clashing against the harsh orange of his shirt as he pushes past him, scratching his head at the idea of another kid. Poor guy said two was the limit in a lifetime and he gets a grinning teenage girl who dares him to do something about it. He hasn’t raised a lot of girls….

“I don’t know. I guess trouble always seems to find me,” Luke laughs lightly, watching kids of all ages jump into the bubbly lake water happily. The glowing ember of his eyes are relaxed for the first time in a while— an inviting flame catching your own as you stare at him from across the sudsy water. Trouble, he thinks, a smile settling onto his face—how fitting.

He’s spent a lot of time running. But perhaps this time, he’s finding reasons to want to stay.

—

"After all, we are nothing more or less than what we choose to reveal." - Sylvia Plath

Ask to be added to the general/luke taglist!

luke taglist (some won't let me tag, turn on my post notifs?): @kissingyourgrl @dorcas4meadowes @lorarri @andrewgarfldsgf @noodlesketchbook @10ava01 @poppysrin @ashisabitgay @timhalamet @liv1104 @leeknows-wife @mxtokko @bugcuti3 @luvvfromme @midmourn @2hiigh2cry @yuminako @niktwazny303 @lukecastellandefender @intergalactic-padawan @iliketopgun @annybah @dangelnleif @thegrinningghost @alyssajunelle @obxstiles @m00ng4z3r @visndcaitswhore @b0ok-lover @elegant-face-tree @this-barbie-is-having-breakdowns @amortencjja @idonevenknow1359 @maliaaaa @targaryenluvs @sakyira @dhdjdjjdhsjdiri @number-onekidqueen @nininehaaa @bradynoonswife @stevenknightmarc @hoodedhavok @happy-mushrooms @homebyeleven @anotherblackreader @too-deviant @liviessun @lilacspider @theadventuresofanartist @sucker4seresin @simpforsunwoo @zanzie @starrystormwritings

#luke castellan x reader #luke castellan x dionysus!reader #pjo imagine #luke castellan x reader fanfic #percy jackon and the olympians #luke castellan fluff #made by ma1dita ♥︎#trouble!verse #thank you for reading my love ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

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schoenpepper · 2 months

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Isekai'd Chronicles 5

Intro: Pomefiore in an isekai AU.

Warnings: bad writing, awful grammar, proofread by quillbot, Rook Hunt is a warning in his own right, some bullying, a duel, google translated French

A/N: The thought of elf Vil makes me want to do things. Cry, maybe. Thoughts on Neige in this AU: he's just a random pretty human celebrity that people are saying is prettier than even the elves (who are known to be hot af). Anyway, enjoy!

Masterlist

It's a really big deal when you have the future ruler of the elves standing in front of you, especially when said elf has blond hair and purple eyes and ungodly beauty. You knew your new friend Epel was going to bring about chaos, but you just had to befriend him anyway and let him hide out in your room in an act of (stupidity) kindness. Thus, you carved your fate in stone and you really only have yourself to blame when Vil Schoenheit is glaring at you and the elf that so courageously jumped out to defend you.

This is not what a smart 'reincarnated into a villain' would do, you know? You should be avoiding them, so why is it that you seem to be a magnet for trouble? This one's definitely on you, though.

He seems mildly impressed that you have the guts to actually stand up to him, and he invites you to Epel's etiquette lessons hoping that perhaps the purple haired elf would calm his rebel spirit when the lessons are happening with a friend. You accept stupidly because Epel's puppy dog eyes are very hard to say no to, plus, Vil's regal aura did not seem like he would even take no for an answer. It's not too bad, you tell yourself, especially since elf etiquette isn't too different from the kind you'd needed to learn from childhood. It also started from beginner level basics, because apparently, Epel was born in a part of the elven forest where there were no nobles at all.

Vil isn't a bad teacher, by any means. In fact, he feels more like a caring mother hen when he fusses over your clothing and teaches you about proper skin, hair, nail and everything else care. He gives you tons of homemade products and serums and cosmetics, and you smell like a bouquet of flowers by the time you're done with the routine he'd set up for you. Time spent with him is soothing almost, and you eventually find yourself spending time with him even without Epel, outside of etiquette lessons. He goes out shopping for clothes with you as he teaches you about elf fashion, and you talk to him about human celebrity scandals that you'd seen in magazines. He lets you try makeup on his perfect face when he has nowhere to be, and you concoct healthy meals in the kitchen with him to try to make delicious food that still passes his caloric and nutrient standards.

Vil won't kill you. He's above that, you're sure. Then that's another capture target down.

There's just no way you can keep your eyes off Vil, you know? He's ethereal, too beautiful to be human. Because he's not, he's an elf. Lilac eyes meet your own in confusion when you hand over the small bouquet of lilacs to him.

"What is this for, potato?" You give him a proud smile and answer. "My lilac flowers bloomed, senpai. I planted them a while ago, but this is the first time they've had such pretty blooms. They reminded me of the color of your eyes, so I thought I'd give you some!"

There's amusement and...something else that's lingering in his irises, but you can't quite put a finger on it. He takes the bouquet. "I must thank you, then. These are lovely."

Some people have gotten on your nerves recently. You know who they are, they don't hide their snickers when they pull their stupid childish pranks. But they hide it well in public even when you know they mock you for 'sucking up to everyone', but you're not a suck up! They're your friends! In any case, you're also a duke's heir, so they definitely have a lot of guts to be picking on you. If you were any more cruel, you'd sic Floyd or Jade on them (or Floyd and Jade if you were feeling particularly sadistic), but you decide to call them out instead and challenge their dumb leader to a duel. So there you were, sword against the other person's neck and they use magic and that's not in the rules! Right before the flames catch onto your hair, an arrow whizzes past your ear (the PTSD from your childhood has you frozen in place) and grazes your enemy's arm. It wounds him but he's not going to die, so you call out to the referee and the duel is your win!

You still tell Floyd afterwards because you were pissed the guy had the audacity to cheat.

When you look up past the ring, you see another blond elf, this time with a bob cut and clear green eyes the color of peppermint leaves. Your savior tips his hat to you as he puts his bow away with a smile on his face.

Your savior is Rook Hunt, Prince Vil's most loyal retainer.

You really are a trouble magnet. But it won't do your noble upbringing justice if you don't pay him back, right? He did save your reputation after all, maybe even your life. Thus, the following days are spent with Rook, giving him gifts and doing everything you can to pay back the debt of whatever weight you thought that duel carried. He treats you like a friend even though you're sure you've never met him before, and he lets you stay in his room to help him scrapbook photos of Neige LeBlanche. He teaches you how elves wield a bow and arrow, and his eyes light up when you invite him over to your manor for the weekend to hunt some monsters that loitered around the edge of the woods. Typically, your family's knights would handle the culling, but he seemed to find killing monsters with you as a fun pastime so you do as he wants to.

He sits you down and tells you he really enjoys spending time with you, and that you shouldn't think of it as a debt to be repaid anymore. And surely, this very nice elf won't kill you...right?

You gingerly cross him off the list.

"Rook senpai, I'm glad I found you." You walk over to the bush that wiggled weirdly earlier, and you're not surprised when a blond elf pops out of the foliage. You show him the item in your hands. "Look! I got you a limited edition signed photocard of that Neige. This hasn't been released yet, so I know it's not in your collection."

You swear there are tears in his eyes as he captures you in a hug, laughing wildly. "Merci mon amour! C’est vraiment merveilleux, oh, je comprends maintenant pourquoi tant de personnes sont tombées amoureuses de toi."

You don't know what he said, but you're glad he's happy.

#twisted wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #pomefiore #vil schoenheit #vil schoenheit x reader #vil x reader #rook hunt x reader #rook hunt #rook x reader #gender neutral reader #x reader

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dotster001 · 1 year

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Request pls: Yuu's Harem

Riddle, Leona, Jamil, Idia, Malleus, Azul to gn!reader that helps them heal from overblot (unsure to add Vil cus he has Rook whom already does god's work everyday)

Reader just comes close to their space and sees if they're doing good. Then it evolves to asking about their day and about the world of TW to make convo. Then it turns to a friendship where Reader commends them for doing things beneficial and good for themselves in the day, then tells them "Good boy/good job!" at even the smallest things when they take care of themselves without Reader's help (beast tamer Yuu awakening)

Reader gives them a braided bracelet made by themself and they cherish it. But then one day the Vice/Other dorm leader notices the bracelet and goes "Ah, so you're officially part of the harem"

You can write either first or second paragraph I just wrote it all out for context of the second

Self Love and Braided Bracelets

A/N: I did a little bit of both 😁 I included Vil, because no offense to Rook, but someone who makes comments about someone's weight is not good for self love

3k followers masterlist

"So, I made this for you. You don't have to wear it, I just….I was making one and it kind of started to remind me of you," you handed Vil the gold and purple braided bracket you'd made the night before. He gently picked it up, seemingly unsure of how to feel about it.

"Also, I just want to say," you took a deep breath, "if you ever need to talk to someone, I'm here to listen."

The look in your eyes was so heartfelt that Vil worried he'd tear up just from looking at it.

"I'll keep that in mind, thank you."

Not that you'd ever know how raw you'd made him feel. Perhaps he was still too weak from his incident. It didn't matter. He was as composed and calm as ever.

A braided bracelet didn't exactly fit his wardrobe. But the next morning, his hand hovered over it, hesitating about not wearing it. So he slipped it on. His gut was never wrong, and it was telling him to wear it. Besides, his sleeves would cover it.

….

Months later, and Vil was now sitting at your lunch table. He'd never admit it, but he enjoyed it when you would take a spoonful of food and feed it to him when he didn't eat enough.

Malleus Draconia, of all people, walked over to your table with a tray, his entourage in tow.

"Hey Mal Mal! I'll get us some more chairs," you said with a smile, getting up and beginning your hunt for seats.

Idia looked up from his silent eating, and pointed to Malleus' wrist.

"So you're part of the harem now, huh?"

"The what?" Vil muttered before noticing the green and black braided bracelet on Malleus' wrist.

"It's not a harem," Riddle said with a pout.

"What else would you call it?" Idia snapped, fiddling with his own bracelet that Vil was noticing for the first time.

"The turnip's got a point for once. It is very harem like," Leona snickered.

"Doesn't harem imply a romantic aspect?" Azul asked, looking up from his meal.

"The flowers we all got for love day have a certain implication," Leona smirked.

"And the "I love you, have a great day! You matter to me!" Texts every morning also have an implication," Jamil muttered, clearly flustered by the conversation.

Idia nodded, and said, "It could also just be a friendly harem. You know, a harem of self love. Harems can be platonic."

"Platonic, huh?" Riddle sounded a little sad.

"It sounds like it really depends on Y/N's feelings," Vil spoke up finally.

Before the others could respond, you came back dragging a chair with you.

"Sorry that took so long! Who knew it would be so hard to find a chair?" You laughed.

Malleus sat down, and you looked over at Idia.

"Idia, I know I don't say this enough, but I'm really proud of you for eating lunch with us."

"Thank you," Idia practically purred, the tips of his hair turning a light pink.

Vil shook his head with a light laugh. He looked at his fellow "harem mates", and realized that whether this was platonic, romantic, or something else, he was willing to see wherever it led.

#3k followers #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader

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lizdive · 2 months

Note

I saw your requests were open so, Could you make a dr ratio or Aventurine x reader who's a kid but very bossy and smart for their age? and ofc platonic!! :3

I did Veritas, but if you want an Aventurine version just tell me !! Requests may be closed but I can make an exception for this :3 Thank you for requesting and if you’re unsatisfied just tell me !!

notes 𐙚 gender-neutral reader — "you" used to refer to reader ,, reader is a child ,, reader is a child genius and from the genius society ,, reader is implied to be parentless / guardianless ,, platonic relationships ,, not proofread ignore typos

⭑ Really? You? A little kid? You’re the newest addition to the genius society? VERITAS feels like he’s being mocked by Nous at this point. Well, whatever. Not like he was going to interact with you or anything. He has no reason to do so.

⭑ You spot him walking outside your space and, assuming he was the one supposed to get you your lunch, yell out at him annoyance. He ignores you until you call him the purple haired one and then he realizes you’re talking to him.

⭑ You don’t even care that he’s not the one who was supposed to bring you your lunch as you boss him around, looking up at him as he gives you a flabbergasted and almost offended expression.

⭑ He tries to scold you but you just try your best to push him out of your space so he can get you your lunch. He goes eventually just to get it over with but he dislikes you now.

⭑ But it’s not like he can completely despise you, because you’re actually tolerable when you’re not bossing him — or anyone, really — around. You can hold up a pretty good and deep conversation for a child of your age and you’re willing to listen to others’ views (well, unless it’s about your personality.)

⭑ Soon enough, VERITAS actually finds himself warming up to you and vice versa. You’re a good kid. Bossy, sure, but he tries to blame it on you being a kid and not having anyone to properly guide you since you’re always busy with research. You’re influenced by those around you — it rare to find a researcher that actually cares about anything other than their research.

⭑ You both refuse to acknowledge it properly, but you both accept that maybe you both enjoy each others’ company.

⭑ VERITAS will help you out with your research, be it inventing something mechanical or creating something organic. If not physically helping you out, then supervising you and giving you ideas or suggestions.

⭑ Some of the researchers dread it when VERITAS comes to the space station because you both are insufferable together, especially when your goals align and suddenly there’s a silent agreement to help each other achieve that goal.

⭑ But at the end of the day, you’re a child. Which why whenever you act childish and immature, huffy or happy, VERITAS will do his best to be there for you. You’re young, and you didn’t have any support system before him.

⭑ He’ll try to be understanding — it’s hard for him since he’s used to being so focused on spreading knowledge and he has made people cry before without much comfort. But he’ll try, especially because you tend to seek him out for comfort. You trust him to comfort you and he’ll do his best to not disappoint.

⭑ He knows some kids burnout after time, and he doesn’t want that to happen to you, so he’ll make sure you don’t overdo it with your studies and research, as well as make sure you’re in a healthier environment. He’ll make sure that the researchers don’t put pressure on you — most of them are too busy shoving their noses in their own research however some of the researchers at the space station can be less than pleasant.

⭑ If you ever want to leave the station, VERITAS is more than willing and happy to take you with him. It’s a nice opportunity to expand your research and perhaps invest in another field. Also because it’ll give him the chance to take you out to some nice places and if you’re extra young, then maybe some fun play places and specific parks.

⭑ VERITAS wouldn’t mind having you give special lectures to his students if you ever told him you want to do so. He’ll stand to the side as you teach, getting you a stool for you to be able to write on the chalkboard.

⭑ Also, he’ll try to improve your bossy behavior. He doesn’t mind it too much as long as you’re not bossy to him, but he also knows that your bossy behavior can develop into an unhealthy need for control and he doesn’t want to risk it.

#🪽 ☆ LIZDIVE #ᡣ𐭩 — robin’s stars !!#ᡣ𐭩 — robin’s writing !!#honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #dr ratio honkai star rail #dr ratio hsr #dr ratio x reader #platonic relationships

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in1-nutshell · 8 months

Note

Hello! First time requester and long time lurker! Just wanted to request a story for a opposite personality kid buddy with megatron (tfp) similar to the optimus and Ratchet ones you have done! They are my new favourite thing lol

Also would love some possible best uncle soundwave bits in it!

Its fun to see the Bots and Cons interact to their daughters with opposite personalities, but I saw this request and chose pain. Fair warning there may be tears or not.

Megatron is not going to have a fun time when he realizes that his daughter's personality is a little like someone he knows...

If this isn't what you wanted, please let me know!

Hope you enjoy!

Megatron with a daughter who has the opposite personality of his own

SFW, Angst, mention of injuries, Platonic, Famialil, Cybertronian reader (Buddy is a minicon)

TFP

Buddy was Megatron’s dumpster baby.

Literally.

Megatronus was out in one of the dirty alleys of Cybertron when he heard a noise coming from the piles of scrap.

He thought about ignoring it… but something told him to at least check it out.

There sticking out of the pile like a beacon of light was a tiny sparkling. Perhaps a minicon sparkling.

All alone dirty and crying.

Megatronus didn’t have the spark to leave them their alone and picked it up.

“Hello there little one.”--Megatronus

Sparkling stops crying and just looks at him with her big optics.

“Some one left you here? No surprised with how everyone is… What should I do with you?”--Megatronus

Sparkling grabs one of his digits.

“There is always the sparkling care unit…”--Megatronus

The sparkling yawing and curling into his servo to take a nap.

“…Great… I’ve gotten attached to it… but you can’t stay with me in the gladiator’s quarters just yet. Too small for your own good. But there is someone who can help.”--Megatronus

Orion opening up the door to his habsuite revealing Megatronus holding a small sleeping sparkling in one servo.

“…Megatronus… please tell me you didn’t kidnap this sparkling.”—Orion

“What! No!”--Megatronus

The two mechs created a plan.

Orion would watch her while Megatronus was at work and the Megatronus would come by and pick her up during the free times he was now given with the rising status as a gladiator.

Orion in the meantime would house and help feed her. There would be times where he had to take her to work, but no one seemed to mind.

The sparkling was quiet and to top it off had become increasingly interested in some of the data pads in Iacon.

“Orion? What do you have there?”—Alpha Trion

Orion holding Buddy in one servo and an energon cube in the other.

“An energon cube?”--Orion

“Pax you know what I mean…”—Alpha Trion

It was a bit rough at first, but they made it work.

Buddy was her given designation after her friendly nature around bots.

Megatronus didn’t mind it at all.

Soon enough Megatronus started introducing some of the gladiators to Buddy, though he wasn’t quite ready to have her move in with him. It still was no place for Buddy.

Out of all the gladiators Buddy got to meet, she clearly had a favorite.

Soundwave.

Having already a small team of minicons with him, Buddy was easily welcomed into the group.

Some even made jokes about Buddy being Soundwave’s kid too.

Soundwave loved Buddy’s light.

He swore an oath to protect her.

During the first meeting.

“Buddy, this is one of my closest friends, Soundwave.”--Megatron

Buddy from behind Megatronus’s pede peeping out.

“Go on, just like we talked about.”--Megatronus

Buddy slowly walks up to Soundwave.

“Hello! My designation is Buddy! I like blue, red, and purple. You’re purple, I like you.”--Buddy

Soundwave internally promising to offline anyone who harms the little one.

Orion soon introduced the sparkling to Ratchet.

Ratchet loved seeing the little sparkling around he thought it was Orion’s sparkling for a while.

Until he saw the clear favoritism the sparkling had when she saw Megatron.

Ratchet watching Buddy speeding over to Hug Megatronnus’s pede.

“Wait she’s not yours?”--Ratchet

“No? What made you think of that?”--Orion

Ratchet remembering the number of times he ‘s seen Buddy sleep over at Orion’s place, go to ‘work’ in the archives, near identical friendliness.

“…No reason… but… did he kidnap her by any chance?”--Ratchet

“Ratchet!... Well, I thought that too, but no!”--Orion

Then the debates with the Senate began.

Megatronus felt so betrayed by Orion’s words he stormed off, enraged.

So filled with hatred and betrayal, he almost forgot that Buddy was with him.

There was no way that he was going to let Buddy anywhere near that traitor again.

“Where’s Uncle Orion?”--Buddy

“We are not seeing him again.”--Megatronus

“What!? Why?!”--Buddy

“He has done something unforgivable. I will not have him influence you.”--Megatronus

“What did he do?”--Buddy

“…He betrayed me. He is no longer your ‘uncle’, Soundwave is your only ‘uncle’.”--Megatronus

“Can… Can at least say ‘good-bye’?”--Buddy

“Life doesn’t let you say ‘good-bye’ Buddy. Learn from that.”--Megatronus

“But—”--Buddy

“NO!”--Megatron

“…okay…”--Buddy

Then the war started.

Megatron made sure that Buddy was going to be always stuck to his side.

Other times it would be with Soundwave.

As Buddy grew up in the dark corridors of the Nemesis, she decided to pick up on basic patch work.

Maybe do something to fix her father.

She had been told hundreds of times that her uncle Orion, now Optimus Prime, had started the war.

He was the cause of all this destruction, of all this death.

Buddy believed it for a while.

But as she got older the more, she would begin to hear more unfiltered pieces from the Autobots. More things from their side.

She knew that the truth wasn’t going to be pretty by any means… but she just wanted to know what happened to her sweet uncle Orion.

Megatron soon began to be haunted by the ghost of his former brother in the shape of his own sparkling.

Their personalities were scarily similar.

Too similar.

Megatron tried to change this in his own way.

He began training Buddy to fight, but this didn’t help too much.

Buddy frame shaking from exhaustion.

“Get up! We can not have the Future Leader of the Decepticon’s kneel on the floor!”--Megatron

“Megatronus—”--Buddy

Megatron looking at Buddy, for a split-second seeing Orion in her place.

“…Can I please have a break? We’ve been at this for more than 2 hours.”--Buddy

“No.”--Megatron

“But—”--Buddy

“I said no!”--Megatron

“Megatronus—”--Buddy

“I SAID ‘NO’! WHY CAN’T YOU LISTEN TO ME, ORION!”--Megatron

“… Megatron… Its me Buddy, Orion is not here.”--Buddy

“… 5 minute break then we are going back to training.”--megatron

Even if she was a minicon, Megatron treated her like any other soldier.

He began sowing the seeds of the future into her helm. About leading the Decepticons if anything were to happen to him.

He had subconsciously placed a near unbearable weight upon his daughter’s shoulders.

She did talk to her Uncle Soundwave about this.

“What is he thinking Soundwave? Me? The future Leader of the Decepticons? Yeah right, like Starscream or some of the others would take orders from a lowly minicon like me.”--Buddy

“You—Have—Soundwave.”--Soundwave

“I know that, but why… just why…”--Buddy

Buddy started to sniffle, Soundwave wrapping his arm around Buddy as she buries her helm into his side.

“Why… why…”—Buddy

“You—have—Soundwave—everything—is—going—to be—fine.”—Soundwave

“… I miss your voice sometimes Soundwave. I know you wont because of the oath… but I do miss it.”--Buddy

“…”—Soundwave

Soundwave just holds Buddy closer.

Soundwave grew a bit more protective of Buddy seeing as not many minicons could survive on their own for long.

He should know…

Sometimes he’ll have Lazerbeak watch her or keep her company when he is unavailable.

Then Megatron disappeared.

Buddy never felt so much pressure or sense of guilt in her life.

As Megatron’s successor she automatically assumed control as Leader of the Decepticons.

Soundwave always by her side as was Starscream.

Soundwave never let Buddy alone with Starscream under any circumstance.

Starscream did find some insult in this but understood. He was constantly trying to overthrow Megatron, even going with murderous attempts.

But even he had some standards as to not killing the kid… yet.

Buddy did attempt to contact the Autobots while in command to talk, but all attempts never reached them. She wanted to make some peace negotiations before any more energon could be spilled.

All her hard work went down the drain when Megatron came back.

“Megatron! Meagtron you’re back!”--Buddy

Buddy going in for a hug, but Megatron moving aside completely missing Buddy’s hug.

“Megatron?”--Buddy

“How have the troops been?”--Megatron

“Everything is good, just as you left them. But shouldn’t we get you to Knockout? Just to make sure that everything is okay with your systems.”--Buddy

“No.”--Megatron

“Megatron, its highly—”--Buddy

“I’m sorry did you just speak back? You are no longer the Leader of the Decepticons anymore, learn your place.”--Megatron

Every Decepticon within hearing distance optics going wide.

“…Right, my apologizes… Lord Megatron.”--Buddy

“Better. Now get ready for our sparring session. You’ve grown soft and we cannot have that.”--Megatron

Things only got worse between them after the reunion, after he plunged the dark energon into his chassis.

Megatron seemed more and more obsessed with Prime. He nearly ignored more and more of his duties as Leader. Buddy, Soundwave and Starscream had to pick up after him.

The sparring was getting more and more intense.

Many of the Vechicons had reported to Soundwave or Breakdown to get down and stop the sparing matches because of the screaming they keep on hearing. It sounded more and more like a torture session than sparring session.

Knockout organizing his wax bottles when Breakdown and a Vechicon come in. Buddy in the Vechicons arms near limp.

“What happened!?”--Knockout

“Take a guess.”--Breakdown

Vechicon placing Buddy on the med slab.

“Thank you, Steve…”--Buddy

“Commander Buddy—”--Steve

“Don’t call me that okay. We’ve talked about this Steve. It’s just Buddy. No titles, no nothing, just Buddy.”--Buddy

“Okay… Buddy.”--Steve

“Okay Steve you can resume your duties, thanks for the help.”--Breakdown

“Of course, Breakdown. Bye Buddy.”--Steve

Buddy trying to wave back but wincing.

Knockout is already getting his tools out.

“Training, I’m guessing.”--Knockout

“Yes…”--Buddy

Silence in the med bay as Knockout finishes up the patch work.

“Megatron is lucky this time it looked worse than what it was. He needs to be more careful… we only have so many minicon parts right now…”--Knockout

“It’ll be all right Knockout.”--Buddy

“And how do you know?”--Breakdown

“Hope. Cause that’s all we have right now. Hope and a whole bunch of ammo.”--Buddy

“Heh. Guess you’re right about the ammo part.”--Breakdown

“Yeah!”--Buddy

“And… your done! Now don’t go and ruin that finish missy!”--Knockout

“Or what? Its not like Optimus Prime is going to ruin it.”--Buddy

#transformers #transformers x reader #maccadam #bot buddy #tfp #tfp x reader #tfp megatron #tfp soundwave

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ghostsvacuumcleaner · 1 year

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Metamorphose | 2k

my masterlist | ao3 ✦ Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x f!reader ✦ Summary: You and Simon deal with the pain of losing a baby. ✦ TW and general warnings: established relationship, angst, fluff, sensitive content (abortion), depression and eating disorder mentions, it's painful but he comforts you

A/N: Hi everyone! Since I'm working hard on some requests I've received and in the next chapter of Shades of Red, I decided to release this kinda old drabble of mine here. I'm not too satisfied with how it ended up but enoughly to post, so enjoy <3

I'd also like to mention that I have a taglist for my longfic Shades of Red but not one for my general writing and drabbles so I'll make a post for it, but till then, if anyone's interested in being tagged in my general posts and drabbles, please let me know <3

The sky is colored in blue, pink and purple.

Mostly blue.

You stare outside of the window while it changes, a golden yellow sun by the morning that rises; it spent too much time burning bright in the also bright blue sky. You counted the hours till it started descending. Now, the sun was nothing more than a little line by the horizon, and the sky was fading into cold colors, fading into the cold night.

You feel hungry, but it felt wrong to eat knowing you’d be sick of your stomach the second food hits it. You’re not in town anymore, Simon decided it would be better if the two of you took some time out in the country, where it was safe and you’d have time and space to do the things you loved. Running with your dog, swimming in the lake, breathing the fresh air. Truth is, you don’t feel like doing anything. Your legs are too tired, you’re sleepy, you’re tired. You’re very tired.

You heard him on the phone earlier. His voice was hoarse and low, he argued you wouldn’t want to receive visits. You could tell whoever it was - was insisting, pushing him too hard into allowing them to visit you. He blatantly denied, and you could feel his mood changing in a bit of seconds, his patience running low and the moment he turned off and let out a huge snort; and it had been perhaps two hours since that happened.

You let out a tired sigh, your empty sad eyes stare down at a small sign of movement under the window you were staring at. A little cocoon, seeming to be still inhabited, was hanging from a little line in there. You knew it was supposed to keep hanging till the moment that little caterpillar metamorphosed into a butterfly, and broke the shell, flying out freely. But for some reason you can’t understand - as well as many things in nature, this one cocoon is about to fall.

Your shaky hands reach out for it and before it hit the ground, you carefully pull it and it detaches without a second guess. You take a small look around the room and grab a small empty cup where the water you were supposed to have drunk evaporated, and place the small thing inside of it.

“There you go.” You mutter, the first time you hear your own voice in days, maybe weeks.

Some things aren’t supposed to happen. And you’re not supposed to die without being conceived the chance of living, even if only for a day.

You reach for Simon downstairs, minutes later. Looking pale for the lack of food you’ve been putting yourself through, tired for even standing, collateral effects of the strong medication you’re taking for the sake of your life.

“Baby.” You mutter, and he turns instantly from the alluring stare he was giving the fireplace. Your man’s sitting in a cozy armchair, drinking tea - cold at this point - and dissociating just like yourself. You blame yourself for a second: how can you put him through so much? Isn’t he suffering as much as you, why are you isolating him?

“Yes, my love?” He quickly responds, like he craves for hearing more of you. “Another nightmare?” he asks, standing to come closer to you.

You shook your head. “No… I found this.” you show the cup between your hands; Simon doesn’t seem to get it at first glance. “A butterfly. It’ll come out anytime, the cocoon is moving.” you state.

“Oh.” He raises an eyebrow, and sighs a little. “What a cute thing… Should we put it in the garden?” He asks, so much calm in his voice you feel yourself a little lighter.

“I want to see it.” You state. “The butterfly, I don’t know what type it will be, I’m curious.”

Simon looks at you like love would, if love was a person. He’s as tired as you, you can tell. Maybe his legs work a bit more than yours and his hands have the capacity of doing the hard work still, but his mind is as empty as yours.

“Of course.” He nods, and reaches for his own coat, placing it around your shoulders. You feel warm and cozy to the smell of him. “We can watch, come on.” he suggests, and grabs onto your hand.

His squeeze is light and calm, and your body follows him instinctively, not thinking about anything but the comfort you crave right now.

For the past few days, the only thing you could think of was the void in your belly. The void you haven’t felt in months; when you told him you were pregnant, Simon stared at you in complete despair and horror for at least ten excruciating silent minutes. You weren’t used to the idea as well, you’d have to interrupt your current work, you’d have to dedicate yourself to learn the slightest about being a mother.

It is a lie that every woman is born knowing how to hold a baby. When the two of you would visit some of your friends and their children, you’d try to picture yourself as holding your own baby instead of holding theirs. You couldn’t. They’d tell you that oh, god, don’t hold him like this, while laughing. But for you that was a sinful despairing moment.

Simon knew better than you, as a matter of fact. He held babies correctly, unintentionally - but very correctly.

You didn’t know if you were supposed to feel envious of his natural ability or proud of having this man as a daddy to your baby.

You learnt to love the little thing growing in your belly. He did, too. He would often bring gifts to you - keeping track with your cravings, and also buying things for the baby. Baby’s little room would be full soon enough. This little creature who wasn’t even born yet was everywhere around your house. The worries about conciliating Simon’s work with your pregnancy were starting to catch the two of you off guard, and soon as he asked for a license to take care of his pregnant wife, that day. That night. So much pain, so much blood. He wasn’t a small lifeless fetus anymore, it was a whole baby. It was a girl. She had a name.

Some things aren’t supposed to happen.

“Your parents want to visit.” He mutters, the two of you sitting in the swinging chairs by the garden, surrounded by dozens of different kinds of flowers. The weather is fairly cold, but you don’t feel it with his coat around yourself. “Told them you wouldn’t want to.

“I don’t.” You agree. “Tell them I need time.”

“I did.” He fixes the coat you have around yourself, and glares into you as the sky fades into deeper tones of dark blue. “I was a little less polite than that, but I did.”

“If you weren’t, they wouldn’t listen.” You argue, looking at him now, too. Your eyes fall deep into the void of his own.

For the first time in those two painful weeks, you can feel his pain flowing through his damaged soul. Like yours.

“I know. Terribly stubborn blood you have, dear.” he mutters, moving your hair off your face. “Did you manage to eat something today?”

“No. I’m sorry.” You mutter, your voice failing for the first time.

“Don’t do this to me.” His voice comes out pained like yours. He closes his eyes, and his jaw clenches in sadness when he sees the tears start gleaming through your eyes. “Don’t apologize. Don’t cry…” he asks in an almost begging voice.

“I’m sorry… I’m sorry, love, this is all my fault, it’s-” you catch your breath in your throat and suddenly, you’re falling apart. Days of nothing, weeks of not feeling anything but pain in your chest, despair, panic, and now you’re falling apart in front of him. Your tears stream down your face like overflowing rivers. “It’s my fault.” You say, grabbing handfuls of your hair and tugging your face on your knees.

Simon feels his own eyes get drenched as he can’t hold his own rivers by seeing you like this. He kneels down to the ground in front of you, pulling your hands from your hair, carefully stopping you from hurting yourself; feels excruciating to him to be able to do nothing.

“It’s not your fault. None of this is your fault.” He mutters, and you feel your body moving up. He holds you like you’re lightweight and takes his seat where you were sat at, now, holding you like a baby against his lap. You tuck your face on his chest now, the tears wetting his shirt, your painful voice coming out in low groans of pain, a painful cry of a mother who lost her children. The sad dead eyes of a father who watched this happening and couldn’t do nothing about it. The grief of parents, who didn’t have the chance of raising their children.

“Why? It hurts so much, so much.” You say beneath your cry, your eyes drenched, your face red from all of the crying. His hand is caressing the back of your head as he silently cries.

“I know. I know it hurts.” his voice is almost a blow of the wind, a whisper. “I can’t possibly know how it feels for your, my darling, but it feels bloody excruciating to me, everyday. I miss her all of the time.” He admits, his voice like the one of a kid who just lost its parents. “I miss talking to her, feeling her kick in. I miss her.”

For the past few days, the two of you seemed to be speaking in foreign languages.

Couldn’t understand each other. Couldn’t comprehend. He was in pain, so were you. None of you could see each other, understand each other. The two of you needed space. The fights, the screaming, his complaints about your refusal to get help and your anger for not feeling understood.

Right now, you feel understood.

Who could understand a grieving mother more, than the kid’s grieving father?

You miss moments that didn’t exist. That didn’t even happen.

You shouldn’t have died without even getting the chance of living. Even if for a day.

“I’d give anything to have a day with her. A fucking day, just one.” You mutter in admission, as you hug in his arms and feel his warmth start to make you calmer by the second. Simon closes his eyes in acknowledgement.

“Me too, darling. And I don’t know what can we possibly do so this hurts any less, but I’m pretty sure we can make it easier if we’re together in this.” He affirms, his hand reaching for your face and washing away your tears. You look at his eyes for the very first time in weeks now. “We face it together.”

The sky is painted in dark blue now as night approaches and the cold finally starts rising completely. You feel it hitting your skin, as Simon has you in his arms and you hum a low lullaby to the air. He runs his hand across your belly like he somehow tries to heal you from the void you’ve been feeling.

If she feels empty, then I’ll fill her with my own love.

You close your eyes and even though in this terribly uncomfortable position, you feel warm, and you feel cared. You rest. You fall asleep in a matter of seconds

None of you had awakened in time to see the cocoon hatch and the butterfly fly out. But for the past months, for the past years - when you were facing the task of emptying your baby’s room along with Simon, or when you were working - and even in other times, when you’d catch yourself thinking about her, you’d see a blue butterfly flying around you.

Simon was too skeptical to believe, but even so, he’d always catch every butterfly he’d see, and bring it to you. “Look, who’s coming to visit!”

#simon ghost x reader #ghost cod #simon ghost riley #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader #cod fic #simon riley fluff

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vividsmashing-exploration · 1 year

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So, I was watching a Youtube video on how Humans came to be Human. It never really clicked that the other species that died out while we survived were... well, Human too. Homo-Erectus, Neanderthal, Denicovin, all humans, but we are the survivors, Homo-Sapiens.

But what if this wasn't the case for alien species? They may have come together in mind, with the same goals, but their biology never homogenized. The multiple species that made up the intelligent life on a planet coexisted, or at least didn't outright murder one another. Would these species find our existence sad? Or maybe they'd be fascinated by that.

Credit where it's due, this is what I was watching: https://youtu.be/wzwXGD_C4P0

In any case, it inspired me to write my first entry to the Humans are Space Orcs Category. Enjoy.

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Field Medic Dana Ortigez was finishing up a report in the crew mess hall of the GFS Tortuga. Her meal had long gone cold as she considered how to write her statement in a way that would be translated favorably for other species to read. A few more agonizing minutes thinking on that sent her off to the Engineering wing. Since she still had difficulty remembering proper grammar for Rhyashaz, perhaps talking through it with one of her nonhuman crewmates could help.

The Tortuga was a human designed research vessel, made for deep space exploration and experimentation. As one of the newest races, the humans had no end of alien coworkers to help man the ship. Conversation was still spotty at times, but there was a certain harmony that overcame these obstacles. The alien Dana was looking for now was a Cryys-Tretchan, a bipedal insectoid species that had also come from a Death World.

Arriving in the center of the ship, Dana confidently strode through an automated door and bumped into a small group of Engineers she had wanted to find.

"Oh- Hi, sorry. Do you um... know where Tchyyk is?"

They were all Cryys, but each one had a tweaked morphology, beyond small changes like height or build. The clicking and chattering coming from their mandibles forced Dana's translator to take a moment, but after a few seconds, the conversation began flowing.

"Xey are... nearby. Xe can tell you, but xe have a question that must be answered." The statement had come from the smallest of the Cryys, a ladybug-adjacent creature with a vibrant, metallic purple carapace. Dana looked down at the Cryys, internally panicking, trying to remember a name. Nothing was coming. She smiled awkwardly, a tight-lipped, toothless affair as she nodded.

"Alright, I guess I have time for that. What do you want to know?"

The chittering comes through, and the translation follows close behind. "Where are the rest of you?"

Dana blinks slowly. "I don't think I understand."

"We were told much of humans, like that they were different shapes and sizes and colors. But all of you look the same. Some different color, all the same."

Dana's confusion only grew, until it dawned on her. Her Medical briefing had touched on how the Cryys were a multispecies spacefaring part of the Federation. Her heart sank.

"You mean, why aren't there more kinds of humans?"

The bug's clacking mandibles clearly signaled confirmation of her statement. "Yes. Do they have special roles in Human colonies?"

Dana shook her head. "No. We don't have them anymore. We're the only species of human."

"Anymore? What happened to them?"

Dana could feel her cheeks redden in shame as she considered the best answer.

"We don't know. There were many different kinds of humans once, before farming was ever an idea in our mind. Neanderthals are the most well known, but there were at least four other species. We have theories on how they disappeared. Everything from natural selection, to our species murdering them. We just... don't know."

The translation took a few seconds. The curious chirping and chittering gave way to cryys noises of shock and awe... as well as disgust.

"How did you come this far?"

To that, Dana smiled sadly.

"Because we're too stubborn to die. Because we overtook everything. Because war. There are so many possible factors, and there could be things that we don't know about today. What we do know is that we were close enough biologically to reproduce. We still have a large percentage of their DNA swimming around inside us. That's all that's left of our sibling species."

The chittering had long gone quiet, allowing Dana to finish to a silent hallway. Clearing her throat, she nodded to the smallest Cryys.

"So, uh, where's Taaniks?"

----

When human-Dana finally walked away, Dres-Gryyk clicked Xer mandibles together slowly, indicating xer sadness.

The smallest Cryys, Roniks-Maar, looked back to Dres with a confused posture.

"What is wrong, Dres-gryyk? Biologist Dana answered your questions."

"She did. It makes me wonder if we had the kinder death world... to think they killed their sister species."

"Humans are odd. She was likely making her kind sound more ferocious, it is nothing to worry about."

In truth, though, it worried Roniks greatly. Xey would be writing a report to Xer superior about it soon.

#humans are space orcs #humans are terrifying #humans are confusing #humans are weird

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221bshrlocked · 1 year

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i remember...

Pairings: Captain Rex x afab! Jedi Reader

Words: 8579

Warnings: Angst with a happy ending. Mutual Pining. Some mention of blood loss but it’s not graphic. Love Confessions due to anesthesia-like fluids. I make up some random stuff about bacta so just ignore that bit please. Sad Rex. Heated Make-Out Session. Oral (female receiving). Squirting. Oversensitivity. Biting. Slight Dirty Talk. Penetrative, Unprotected Sex (wrap the shlong before you king kong my dudes). Breeding Kink. Creampie. Rex being a gentleman after sex.

Summary: “You’re s-safe, thank the Force.” His hold on you tightens when you hiss in pain, but you never once turn away from him, wanting to commit every moment to memory. If you survive this, you are sure you will never come this close to him again. But if you die, oh, if you die, then you would have spent your last seconds showing him how much he means to you.

A/N: This is for @imarvelatthestars who is also taking part in the @cloneficgiftexchange. I hope you enjoy this and I can’t wait for you to read the two other fics as well. Also, hi it’s nice to meet you :) This was originally going to be just fluff but my hands slipped and they went all the way so I hope you don’t mind. P.S. This is the first time I write for our dear Captain so I hope I got his character down correctly. If not, please let me know how I can write him better. As always, reblogs are appreciated.

It was becoming unbearable, mustering up the courage to fight every day in a war that meant absolutely nothing, that held no benefits for anyone except for those in political standings. The feeling of dread only worsened in the past few months, almost as soon as you were added to the 501st as another General. Count Dooku’s thirst for blood has increased, and you had this fear that it wasn’t only him. No, there was something much bigger playing at hand.

Perhaps someone even.

Shaking the dreadful thoughts aside, you scan the grounds quickly to see if any of your men were still alive. As you walk through the carnage, you will yourself to come to terms with the reality of this new life that has been thrust upon you, the recognition that it was most likely worse for your men making you wince angrily before returning to the task at hand.

“General,” the familiar voice of your Captain shifts your attention behind you, and you nod with an exasperation you’re sure is visible to him as you head towards his equally fatigued body.

“Any news on whether Anakin managed to get the intel?” You rub the side of your temple as you wait for Captain Rex to focus on you instead of his dead brothers surrounding you.

“He uh, he didn’t get there in time. He thinks one of the super tactical droids destroyed everything before it self-destructed.” You can hear the disappointment in his voice, and you look into his eyes for a moment to gauge his reaction. Grief swims in his eyes as he returns your gaze, and you hate that you don’t have to look at him to know what’s going through his mind. His Force signature is a cool shade of blue, one that parallels the lines adorning his armor, and your heart clenches when you see how different it is from the normally calming purple hue often surrounding him and setting your mind at ease. You’re reminded once again of just how much of a toll this war is taking on him and his brothers, and you turn away from him out of fear of bursting into tears and making matters worse.

If only you could comfort him beyond what’s deemed appropriate.

If only you could tell him how you feel.

“Don’t worry General, we’ll get them next time.” You hate that he’s trying to make you feel better when it is you who should be offering him supporting words. No words manage to part your lips, and you hum at him as you kick one of the battle droids nearby, trying to distract yourself from pushing past those hidden boundaries and embracing him in an attempt to return those affections he so clearly pushed upon you.

Just as you walk around him, you sense a strange feeling overtake your mind, and you glance to the side quickly, not really thinking of what you’re doing as you step in front of the Captain and activate your lightsaber. The sequence of the blaster shots drives your anger deeper, and you evade them to the best of your abilities, away from Rex and yourself until they each hit the battle droid attempting to kill you.

Scanning the area one last time, your mouth runs dry when you turn around and watch pure and utter shock display as clear as daylight on your Captain’s features. Pushing the weapon back into the holster around your hips, you smile at him to let him know that he would always be safe with you, only to tilt your head in confusion when he doesn’t return the gesture. You follow his line of sight and watch as the adrenaline of the battle leaves your body and makes way for a searing hot pain shooting through your side. Pushing your palm against your hip, you take it away and find it laced with fresh blood.

“C-Commander?”

In all the time you have spent with Rex, you have never once heard him display such unadulterated fear, not when he was near death all those months ago, nor when he thought there was no escape for him and his brothers after a particularly draining battle.

“Rex.”

You whisper his name as you fall to your knees, but strong arms reach for you before you hit the ground, turning you over and pushing violently against the wound to prevent it from bleeding.

“Kriff, why- why would you…you shouldn’t have-” He can’t get a single word out, and you try your best to set aside the pain shooting through your body so you can enjoy being in his arms. You feel your muscles give out, barely allowing you to reach up and caress his cheek. You don’t realize you’ve painted his beautiful skin with blood until you see tears rolling down his cheeks and stream a pink line to his chin.

“You’re s-safe, thank the Force.” His hold on you tightens when you hiss in pain, but you never once turn away from him, wanting to commit every moment to memory. If you survive this, you are sure you will never come this close to him again. But if you die, oh, if you die, then you would have spent your last seconds showing him how much he means to you.

“Stay with me, mesh’la.” He leans down and rests his forehead against your own, distracting you enough before he lifts you in his arms and runs to the nearest gunship. You clutch onto his shoulder like your life depends on it, unable to hold back from crying as each movement sends throbbing stabs down your spine and across your hip. You can faintly hear his apologies, and you rest your head against his shoulder to distract yourself once again. This close, you can smell his natural scent, and you shiver when you recognize how musky and sweet it is as it seeps through your senses.

You think you hear him call for Kix, but you can’t stay awake for much longer, the blood loss and your body’s fatigued nature taking over as soon as you get on the gunship. Rex puts you down with ease, but he snaps your name harshly when he sees you shutting your eyes and going limp in his arms again.

“Don’t close your eyes,” it’s his Captain voice, and you laugh at the demanding tone he’s aiming at you, only to cough violently and clutch at your side when your body jolts forward.

“I thought I g-give the orders here?” He doesn’t bother to smile at you, and you hate that he knows you’re only trying to diffuse the tension. When you look up at him, you find him frowning down at you, the blue aura around him now turning even darker as he looks around to see if Kix is nearby.

You gulp as the ship comes to life, and the harder you try to remain awake, the more tired your mind becomes. As you look around you, you find several of the men staring at you with worry etched on their features, and you feel a sense of peace wash over you at the thought of being so important to them. You can no longer keep yourself conscious, and just as you turn your head to the side and see Kix jumping into the gunship, you surrender to a deep sleep filled with midnight blue embraces and loving words.

A bright light wakes you from your haze, and you flutter your eyes quickly to get used to the blinding rays shining down on you. You try to get up immediately but a hand to your shoulder keeps you laying down, and you look to the side to see Kix whispering calming words to you.

“You nearly gave us a fright Commander,” he says after a while, and you look around to try and figure out where you are, only to find an extremely uncomfortable and worried Captain standing by your bed.

“Rex…”

“What were you thinking, hmm?” He snaps harshly at you, making you furrow your eyebrows in curiosity before you turn to Kix. Before you can say anything, Kix walks around and pushes Rex’s chest, urging him to move back and calm himself.

“You may be the Captain, but I outrank you here. I will not have you yelling at one of my patients. Understand?” His tone is firm, and you giggle at the thought of hearing one of Rex’s men not minding getting physical with him.

“I…feel weird.” You sigh deeply and look down, only to see several tubes coming in and out of your skin.

“That would be the Bacta IV. You weren’t doing so well Commander, a simple bacta patch wouldn’t have done the trick.” Kix removes himself from Rex but remains in between the two of you, checking on the needles one last time before moving to the other end of the room. You watch as he makes himself busy, and whatever conscious part of your mind thinks that he’s only pretending so he can give the two of you some privacy.

“To answer your question Captain, I- uhhh…I wasn’t thinking.” You drag the sheets down your body, suddenly feeling flushed as Rex continues to stare at you with a fiery anger you never thought him capable of.

“Actually, that’s…n-not true. I was thinking…but- you know what I mean.” You are not making much sense, and when Rex sighs before pulling up a chair to sit next to you, you smile at you and reach for his hand. He takes it reluctantly but never once looks at you. Neither of you say anything for a while, and you slowly begin to fall asleep when he continues to rub your wrist with his thumb.

“What were you thinking mesh’la…”

It’s a rhetorical question, or at least, you would have recognized that it is had you been more aware and less drugged. You open your eyes and gaze into his own, finding them filled with unshed tears. He looks defeated, and you frown at him while you tug on his hand to bring him closer to you.

“Don’t…don’t cry. It makes me sad to see you cry Rex.”

He chuckles then and you smile at him, rubbing the back of his hand in return to soothe him a little.

“I was thinking of you, and- and how it would kill me if I were to lose you. I can’t lose you Rex, I- I would not survive another day without you…I love you too much to let you go.” You’re not sure why the room is suddenly silent. All you know is, Rex’s Force signature has turned a deep shade of red and his fingers stopped drawing patterns on your skin. You think you hear Kix turn around but you’re too busy looking into the Captain’s eyes to register anything that’s not him.

“Mesh’la,” you want to ask him what the word means, but your eyes grow heavy yet again, and you rest your cheek on the pillow while gazing into his hazel, brown orbs. Before you can say anything else, you fall right back to sleep, completely missing Rex’s reaction to your confession and Kix’s reassurances that you were stable but required to rest further.

You dream of a time filled with peace, of longing gazes and soft caresses. Your mind fills your heart with hopes and wishes, ones you pretend are not impossible to reach. Your heart, once guarding a close-kept secret, finally feels as light as a feather, and it clenches softly when it hears revelations of a similar love, words yo uneven thought would be reciprocated as desperately.

It’s this last sensation that wakes you again, except this time, you’re less dazed than before but much more awake. Sitting up quickly, you study the room you’re in and take a few deep breaths to try and collect your bearings.

“Commander, you’re safe. You’re alive and safe. Breathe, breathe for me.” You look up and watch as Kix guides you through breathing techniques, and only when you’re relaxed and aware of your surroundings do you finally notice the other figure standing nearby.

“How long have I been out?” You ask as you look down and move the medbay gown to the side to see the wound. It’s fully healed and you throw Kix a quick glance, silently thanking him for everything that he has done for you.

“Almost 22 hours, sir. It’s quite remarkable actually, most people would take much longer to heal, even with the bacta. Then again, you’re a Jedi after all.” He checks your vitals, not bothering to mention that Rex is in the room. When he’s sure you’re all clear, he steps aside and finishes some reports on his holopad. You look to your right and watch as Rex slowly approaches you, sitting down on a chair near your bedside and slowly reaching for your hand. You’re surprised by the gesture but don’t deny him, looking back to Kix to see if he is aware of what his Captain is doing.

“How are you feeling?”

“Like a bantha ran me over,” you laugh at your own reply, but Rex doesn’t grace you with a hint of a smile. There is something nagging at the back of your mind, and you narrow your eyes at your joined hands, only to gasp lightly when he rubs your wrist and moves closer to you. If Kix notices what’s happening, he says nothing and turns around to give you some privacy.

“Do you…do you remember anything?” Rex asks reluctantly, and you get the sense that he wants to tell you something but is holding back out of fear of your reaction.

“I remember walking through the battle, and…and talking with you. I remember a droid trying to shoot at you but I took him down before he hurt you. And…I remember getting shot at.” You recollect the events of the last rotation to the best of your abilities, and when you stop speaking, you notice Rex’s aura shift to a cool haze once more.

Kriff, what was it?

“You don’t remember anything else?” He asks yet again, and you tilt your head to the side in confusion, his tone of voice bordering that of a man who has just lost everything he ever had.

“I- I uhh…no. I don’t.” You shake your head several times to figure out if he was referring to anything specific. When you turn to Kix to ask him if he knows what his Captain is talking about, you notice an apologetic expression on his features, one that was not aimed at you but his brother. Before you can say anything, Rex lets go of your hands, making you wish you can give him whatever answer he was searching for.

“I see,” it’s all Rex says before he stands up and pushes the chair back to the wall. You watch as he takes a stance and salutes you, his eyes never meeting your own again as he thanks you for saving him before running out of the room. You don’t turn away from the shut door until Kix walks by and checks your vitals again.

There is so much you want to ask him, but knowing Kix, you get the sense that he wouldn’t tell you even if you begged. He was good at keeping secrets, always has been.

“You’re cleared to leave General, though I do suggest you take it easy for the next few days. You may have physically healed but the psychological strain will take longer to get back to normal. Will you be needing any pain medication?” Kix asks as he takes out all of the needles and tubes from your arms, and you shake your head while you look up at him, hoping that you find whatever answer Rex was looking for swimming in his eyes. He avoids your gaze altogether, and you shut your eyes in irritation at the thought of upsetting Rex.

Maker, what was it?

You do your best to not take your frustration out on Kix as you get dressed, and before you leave, you thank him for taking care of you for the past rotation. He offers you his best wishes before returning to his seat and you make your way back to your quarters in the Jedi Temple slowly, all the while trying to figure out what transpired that made Rex ask you several times if you remembered anything, but more importantly, what you could have possibly said that upset Rex so much and made him leave without sparing you a second glance.

You keep to yourself as you head to your rooms, searching your mind for any clue as to what has happened after the battle. When you finally make it to the privacy of your space, you remove all of your clothes and go straight to the refresher, wanting to get rid of the blood and grime that has stuck to your skin for the past day. But no matter what you do, you can’t remember anything past the battlefield, and you feel your mind almost collapse on itself when the annoyance of memory loss turns into sheer anger.

Force above, what was it?

It occurs to you much later than you would care to admit that there was no way you can recall anything if you’re this unstable, and against your better judgment, you make your way to one of the meditation rooms instead of getting some rest as Kix suggested. As soon as you enter the quiet place, you move near one of the fountains, finding the consistent sound of water soothing to your soul. As you sit down, you take a few deep breaths and clear your mind of anything not related to the Captain of the 501st.

As you initially thought, it’s much more difficult to focus your mind when all you can feel is guilt for making Rex feel so disappointed and sad. You recall back all of the conversations you’ve held with him, especially the ones that lasted for an entire night as you kept watch before a serious battle. You remember the snide remarks aimed at Anakin, and the jokes he often laughed at the expense of Ahsoka. You remember and remember…

But no matter what you think of, you still can’t quite figure out what happened in the past rotation.

Willing yourself to focus harder, you decide to empty your mind altogether, even of those moments with Rex that you cherished and kept closely-guarded within your heart.

The Coruscanti sun slowly moves past the horizon but you remain seated against the flowing waters, pleading with the Force to give you a sliver of a hint so you can fix whatever wrong you made against Rex.

It’s only when your senses finally still do you see a faint dark red pass through your mind’s eye. You zero in on the memory, pushing yourself past your levels of comfort to seek out the desperate aura once again.

I was thinking of you.

Your voice rings through your mind, not sounding normal to your ears, but you are confident it is your own. Clenching your fists tightly, you seek out the memory until it flashes before your eyes as clear as the searing Twin Suns on a hot Tatooine day.

I can’t lose you Rex.

A faint sensation passes down your arm to your wrist, and you feel Rex’s thumb halt in its movement the more you reveal to him your secret. You can see his hands shaking as you pull him closer to you, the words spilling from your mouth making your heart skip a beat as realization washes over you.

I love you too much to let you go.

The last image flashing before your eyes is the look of utter shock that befalls Rex’s handsome features, and had it not been for the soft manner in which he whispers that one word to you in return, you would think he was completely repulsed by what you just confessed to him.

You open your eyes instantly, wincing yet again when your senses become overloaded with the sounds and scents all around you. Looking around the room, you take a few minutes to come to terms with the reality of what has transpired between yourself and the Captain.

Maker.

You had told him what you promised yourself you would never reveal to him.

In a moment of weakness, your heart decided to reveal its deepest secret instead of continuing to keep it hidden.

Looking outside the large glass windows, you notice how dark it became outside and curse yourself for taking so long to remember. It would be inappropriate to go to him now.

You look down to your hand and trace the skin Rex has touched all those hours ago, smiling to yourself when you recognize that your heart has already made the decision for you.

Not caring for how mad you must look, you race outside of the meditation rooms and run through the hallways of the Temple, ignoring the strange and concerning looks from the others still awake as you make it past the gates of your home and towards the barracks of the 501st Legion. It is raining uncontrollably outside, and you nearly lose your footing a few times as you run across the grounds towards the familiar building near the Jedi Temple. You see a handful of men hanging outside the barracks, and they try to call out to you to see if you need any assistance, but you pay them no mind, heading straight to the quarters of the Captain and ignoring how soaked you’ve become in your journey to him.

When you reach the hallways housing the Clone leaders, you slow down and move past the doors silently, praying to the maker that he was in his quarters and not elsewhere. As you reach the end of the hallway, you come to a stop in front of the large, steel doors housing Rex, and before you can think twice of what you’re doing, you push a few buttons on the pad beside the doors, waiting patiently for them to slide open to you.

There is a faint sound of frustrated sighs from behind the door, and you nearly laugh at the sudden turn of events, but the doors slide open and reveal an extremely tired and irritated Clone Captain, one that had just gotten out of the showers from the looks of it.

“Fives, if I have to tell you one more time- kriff, G-General!” His eyes widen in horror at the sight of you, and he walks out to the hallway to see if there are any signs of danger that led you to him. When he finds it as empty as ever, he turns back around and eyes you suspiciously.

“General, what- what are you doing here?” Rex asks, continuing to avoid your gaze as he moves back to his quarters and tugs you along with him. You realize too late that you probably shouldn’t be found at such an odd hour in your Captain’s private rooms, but you brush the thought aside, knowing that this could not wait for another time. You don’t respond right away though, and Rex studies you slowly before moving to his dresser and taking out a pair of sweatpants and a shirt.

“Here, change into these.” He throws the articles of clothing towards you, but you throw them back on the bed instantly, approaching him slowly to avoid scaring him.

“Captain.” You try to catch his attention, but Rex is adamant on not sparing you a single glance, moving to the other end of the room and grabbing one of his shirts before putting it on quickly.

“I don’t mind General,” he attempts to distract you, and you shake your head at him while following him around the small room.

“Captain, please.”

“You’re going to catch a cold, and I’m not going to hear the end of it from Kix.” Rex ignores whatever you’re saying and rubs his temples furiously, making you wish he would just look at you instead of avoiding you as if you were just another commanding officer.

As if you hadn’t spilled your heart out to him a day ago.

Your frustrations nearly get to you, but you quickly come to understand that the man in front of you would continue ignoring your pleas if you didn’t cut to the chase and tell him what you came here for.

“I remember.”

Rex stops in his pacing, dropping his arms to his side and looking at the gray wall ahead of him. He doesn’t move a muscle, and your heart skips a beat when the hue around him turns into that familiar shade of burgundy once more, the same one that graced your sight when you told him how much you love him.

“I remember, Rex.”

You repeat your words and watch as he slowly turns around and meets your eyes in a heated gaze. He continues to remain silent and you take the chance to step closer to him, hoping that he doesn’t get spooked by your revelation and walk away again.

“You- you remember?” His question is laced with a faltering anxiety that you hate you’ve caused him to feel, and you close the last bit of space between the two of you, smiling at him as you reach for his hand and rub your thumb over his wrist.

“I remember…I remember everything Rex.”

He gulps down at you, watching carefully as you extend his wrist up to your mouth and lay the softest of kisses across the sensitive skin beneath your thumb. His sharp intake of breath sends a shiver down your spine, and before you can say anything else, Rex pushes you back against the nearest wall and attacks your lips in a desperate kiss. You moan into him immediately, throwing your arms around his shoulders just as he leans down and grabs your hips to hoist you up in between his rigid body and the solid wall behind you.

You part your lips in a gasp and Rex takes advantage of your shock, sneaking his tongue into your mouth and devouring you without a care for anything except the lewd noises you are gracing him with. He doesn’t know where he can touch you, but as he feels your nail sink into his neck, he breaks the kiss and moans your name over and over again, giving you but a moment of respite before lunging for your mouth once again. You’re soaking wet, and you want to warn him so he doesn’t get wet as well, but he doesn’t let up once, moving down your jaw and licking the droplets of water sticking to your skin. His tongue feels hot against your already flushed skin, but you can’t find it in yourself to complain, not when you finally had him in your arms, stealing your breath with such needy kisses. You don’t realize you’re crying until he pulls away abruptly and looks at you with concern.

“No, please…don’t stop. I’m just- I’m so happy.” You try to bring him back again but he’s much stronger than you, keeping some bit of distance between your mouth until he can ask you that burning question.

“Are you sure I’m not hurting you, mesh’la?”

“No, gods no. I never thought you’d reciprocate my feelings Rex, and- and when I remembered the way you looked at me, I…I ran over here.” Your smile grows when you notice the soft smirk gracing his handsome features, and you lean your forehead against his own briefly to relish in the moment.

“I love you, cyare…so damn much. I- I thought I lost you back there…couldn’t, couldn’t believe what you did for me. And then you told me why and I nearly lost my mind all over again.” He lays as many kisses as possible across your entire face, making you sniffle each time he reveals to you what was going through his mind.

“I love you too Rex, have been ever since I joined your legion.” The sentiment manages to put a halt to his words and he looks at you for what you deem is too long before leaning down and taking your lips in between his own again. It’s much less frantic than before, but it is just as deeply felt, and you tilt your head to the side to deepen it further, whining against him when he removes the both of you from the wall and walks back to his bed.

He lays you down softly and continues to leave a trail of kisses down your neck, swearing beneath his breath when you reach for his shirt and try to remove it off of him.

“Rex, what- oh kriff, what does that word mean?” You manage to ask in between each kiss and nip he marks your body with, whispering his name over and over again when he chuckles at you and sits up to remove his shirt. You bite into your lower lip as soon as he reveals his broad chest to you, giggling like a little girl as Rex throws his shirt aside and drags his hand up and down your body.

“Why don’t I show you sweetheart?” The Captain descends down upon you possessively, dragging his hands everywhere with an aggressiveness you’ve never seen him display before. He has you whimpering in the span of a few minutes, and with each bit of fabric he rips from your body, you’re left wishing he would put you out of your misery and claim you.

“Please, Rex.” You beg shamelessly, covering your eyes with your arm when you’re left in nothing but your undergarments.

“Shh, I got you cyar’ika…I got you.” The Captain coos at you as he traces lines up and down your body, passing his fingers in between your thighs teasingly and laughing when he notices goosebumps erupt across your skin. You peak from above your wrist, only to find him studying you closely and with a hunger unseen on his features before.

“S-stop looking at me like that.” You turn your head to the side when he drags your arms away from your face and places them above your head, making you wish he wasn’t enjoying making you flustered.

“Like what?” He’s nearly breathless as he asks you the question, not caring for how wanton he looks as he hovers his lips above your sternum before slowly making his way down your stomach.

“Like…like-” You can’t find the words to tell him what he looks like, mostly because you know he’ll only laugh and reiterate whatever you say in agreement and cause you to feel even more embarrassed at being the subject of his scrutiny.

“Like I want to eat you? Like I want to devour every fucking inch of you? Like I want to mark you with my teeth and hands until the whole kriffing galaxy knows who’s making you feel good? Is that how I’m looking at you sweet girl?” He pronounces each question with a harsh bite to your skin, smiling wickedly at you as he descends between your thighs and shoves them wide open to make room for himself.

“Y-yes…I- oh gods please Rex, just- just…”

“I hate to break it to you ner cyare, but I will never,” he growls his need for you against the edge of your panties, biting down and chuckling when you twitch beneath him and reach for his shoulder, “ever,” his voice is much rougher, and you think that perhaps he will kill you through sheer frustration, “ stop looking at you like that.” You whine his name, and as you try to ask him once more to not be so brazen with you, he shoves his nose into your core and breathes in deeply. It’s absolutely filthy, the manner in which he nudges along the damp material hiding you from him while staring directly into your eyes. You shouldn’t be surprised by how far dilated his pupils are, but as you sink your nails into his muscles, you furrow your eyebrows and will yourself to continue staring at him, wanting to ensure that he wants this just as much as you.

“Rex…please, touch me.” You slide one of your hands up to his cheek, cupping his chiseled jaw beneath your palm out of fear of having him move away.

“I am touching you, mesh’la.” Rex raises a curious eyebrow at you, nuzzling into your hand when he feels you settle down and whine in frustration.

“I need more.” You hope he understands what you’re trying to say, but it seems that Rex wants nothing more than to push you over the edge of irritation, huffing out in laughter once as he leans over and kisses your inner thighs.

“Like this?” He asks, licking the spot he’s kissed before moving to the space just below your hip and nipping it lightly. “Or like this?” He inquires with a whisper, taking the edge of your panties in between his teeth and pulling them up until he makes sure you’re still looking at him before letting go and smirking at the snapping sound that forces you to jolt your hips into his face. He must be able to see the annoyance etched on your features because as soon as you try to sit up on your elbows and give him a piece of your mind, he drags both of his hands beneath your thighs and hoists them up until you’re perfectly laid out for him.

“Rex, if you don’t- ahhh fuck,” you throw your head back as soon as you feel the heat of his mouth engulf your wet core. He’s licking you violently through the flimsy fabric of your panties, and when you manage to look down at him through dazed eyes, Rex shoves the material aside and shoves his tongue violently against your clit. You drag your nails across his scalp before you realize how painful it might be, but when you attempt to grab anything else, Rex shakes his head and sucks on your clit before letting go altogether.

“Don’t fucking stop…mark me baby, mark me so the whole GAR knows who fucks you like the filthy jetii’ika I know you are.” Your eyes widen in shock at his words, amazed that the normally respectful and shy Captain is capable of groaning the filthiest words ever as he goes down on you. You return your hands to his blonde hair, a zap of lightning shooting across your muscles when you feel the buzzed cut tickle your heated skin while he continues to fuck you with his tongue.

“Rex…oh fuck, you- you feel so good. Please don’t stop…don’t stop Captain!” You don’t mean for the honorific to fall so easily from your lips, and you look down to see if it made him uncomfortable, only to find him staring hungrily at you as he pulls you harder on his face.

“Is that what you want, cyar’ika? You want me to be your Captain…give you orders and make you cum on my face before I fuck you till you can’t feel your legs?” You know it’s a rhetorical question because he returns his attention to your engorged clit soon after, laying his tongue flat against your bundle nerves as he drools over the fingers resting just below his mouth. You want to watch him as he worships you, commit to memory the desperation filling every muscle of his body as he shows you how much he craves you, but as soon as he eases two of his fingers past your slit and rubs against your walls, you’re shutting your eyes and arching your back at the sudden flash of pleasure that takes over your whole body.

“Cum for me ner jetii’ika,” the tone of his voice, along with the needy order, are all it takes for you to reach your pleasure, and you dig your nails into his scalp in an attempt to bring him closer to you as you roll your hips back and forth against his mouth. You can’t feel anything except his tongue and his fingers, and you manage to look down through heavy-lidded eyes to watch Rex as he makes you cum. Your body shakes violently when you see his Force signature turn into a bright cloud of red, the shade validating to you the Captain’s feelings as he continues to assault your cunt until you grow oversensitive.

You try to push him off of you but he is relentless in his mission to pleasure you, wrapping his arms around your hips and pushing down your body until you understand that he won’t be letting you go anytime soon. You feel empty all of a sudden, but then you notice his wet fingers as they grab you through your chest bindings and you feel another wave of ecstasy slowly creep up on you.

“R-Rex…I-”

“Drench my face, sir.” You’re not sure what it is that coaxes another orgasm out of you, if it is the way he orders you to cum on his mouth again, or the sound of the honorific falling from his lips as he licks and sucks on your clit. You scream his name like a benediction, the sensation he was bringing upon your fatigued body driving you mad with lust. You can faintly hear him moan your name in return, and it’s only when you look down after he’s let up do you realize that you’ve done exactly what he wanted and drenched his face. You should be embarrassed, but as Rex licks at you softly with a lazy smile, you realize that he may have enjoyed this more than you.

“Oh maker, I- I’ve never…” You try to speak but your voice comes out hoarse, making Rex laugh even harder as he sits up and wipes his face with the back of his hand.

“That was the sexiest fucking thing I’ve ever seen sweetheart…I want you to do it again.” He drags his gaze down your body as he brings his fingers to his mouth and sucks on them, the same ones that were showing you stars not a moment ago. He looks positively sinful, and you giggle embarrassingly at him before you try to reach for the tent on his sweatpants.

“No,” he grips your wrist tightly and falls against you, pushing you down into his bed with his whole body before reaching for both of your hands and laying them above your head. You frown at him, unsure why he was denying you the same pleasure he brought upon you.

“Don’t look so upset, mesh’la.” He winks at you as he kisses down your neck and licks the water droplets sticking to your sternum. You sigh heavily and extend your neck out further to give him more access, the action pleasing him more than you thought it would and making him groan deeply into your breasts. “Believe me when I tell you…if you touch me now, this night will end much earlier than I would like it to.” He sucks bruises across your chest, managing to hold both of your wrists with one hand while the other moves to unbind the wrapping around your breasts. It doesn’t take much to reveal you to his eyes, and when you’re finally freed of the offending article of clothing, Rex growls before ascending upon you, not caring for how rough he’s being as he takes a nipple in between his teeth while he rolls his thumb over the other.

“Ah f-fuck…Rex, you- your tongue is- oh kriff, I need you Captain…please. I want to feel you, want you to fuck me, hard.”

“Yeah sweetheart?” Rex soothes the love bites with his tongue, swirling the rough muscle around your hardened peak until your chest rises and falls rapidly. He’s memorizing every inch of your skin, and you notice his smile grow deeper when he sees evidence of his claim beginning to appear all over your body. You always imagined him to be possessive with things he enjoyed, but you never thought once you’d be at the receiving end of such dedication, such admiration.

“Claim me, my dear Captain.” You plead one last time, tilting your head down to try and kiss the top of his head in an attempt to make him lose control. The gesture does the trick, and Rex ascends up your body and takes your lips in between his own, ripping the breath out of your lungs as he sucks and licks into your mouth until you could no longer focus on anything but the sensations he was ringing from your body. You whine and moan for him as he pushes you harder into his sheets, and when you tries to rest his weight on one of his arms, you throw your own around his neck and pull him as flush to you as possible.

“I want to feel you, all of you.” You whisper the request against his cheek, kissing his jaw lightly in anticipation for what comes next. When you sense his hand moving down your body, you nip across his neck and mirror his actions from earlier, distracting him on his journey just as he did with you not a moment ago.

“Fuck sweetheart, you’re going to be the death of me.” Rex groans against your forehead as he struggles to pull the edge of his sweatpants down his hips. It becomes very clear to him soon that you weren’t going to let up on marking his skin, and he sighs in irritation before deciding to pull his cock out from underneath the band of his pants.

“Please Rex,” you urge him with soft pleas and wet kisses, laying your head back to look into his eyes as he pushes aside your panties and rubs your clit with the hard tip of his cock.

“Are you ready for me, cyare?” Rex asks, furrowing his eyebrows in focus so as to not hurt you. You nod frantically at him, widening your legs even further to allow him to settle more comfortably in between your thighs.

“Fuck me, Captain.” You breathe against his quivering lips, sighing in relief when the crown of his dick catches at your wet entrance.

“Yes, sir!” It’s all the warning you get before Rex thrusts his throbbing cock into your cunt, and you watch with fascination as the aura shadowing over the two of you becomes an even deeper shade of red, one that mixed perfectly with his normally blue hue and created a soothing new wave to your eyes.

Neither of you move, looking into the other’s eyes to ensure that this was actually happening.

Rex struggles to breathe, and you massage his neck with your fingers before shifting your hips to get closer to him. The movement sends his cock gliding against your clenching walls, and you both moan the other’s name as you feel pure ecstasy take over your spirits.

“You- you feel…” Rex tries to speak, but he loses focus of the sentence, instead moving all of his attention into committing this moment to memory.

“Perfect.” You finish his thought, leaning up and kissing his lips once before relaxing back into the mattress and silently urging him to move. When he pulls out of you and pushes back in slowly, you realize that you’ll never get enough of this.

Enough of him.

And from the way he was gazing down at you, it seems that the feeling was mutual.

“Rex, just- I want you to cum. I don’t care about me, I only w-want to feel you cum.” You cross your legs behind his back to bring him deeper inside you, the action forcing a cry from his lips that sounds awfully like your name. You giggle beneath him, pride feeling your chest at being the one to bring him to such pleasure.

“I- I’ll be damned if you don’t cum on my cock at least once tonight, mesh’la.” The promise is accompanied with a dangerous glint in his eyes, and you gulp nervously at him, shutting your eyes to relish in the feeling of being so full. Each thrust brings about a fresh wave of arousal to your core, and you dig your nails into his back to show him just how good he’s making you feel. The delicious drag of his cock across your tight walls nearly makes you question whether this was all real, not because you didn’t expect him to feel so perfect inside you, but because he was so much better than your imagination.

His grunts are music to your ears, and you leave a trail of kisses across face the closer he gets to his peak, wanting him to scream your name when he finally cums and claims you. It’s a battle of needs at this point, with your minds telling you to make this last as long as possible but your joined bodies screaming for a sweet release. You can feel every inch of him, every hard vein slide against your fluttering walls the harder he fucks into you.

There is so much on your mind, so much you want to tell him, but you’re not coherent enough to remotely breathe out a string of affirmations to him, so you instead look back into his eyes and hope he can see right through you, recognize every bit of your heart that has always screamed his name since they day you met.

“I- I won’t last much longer, cyar’ika.” He manages to confess as he thrusts become harder, deeper, more intimate. You shake your head and whisper your lack of care for what he just said, wanting him to finally mark you as his own and fill you with his seed. There’s something inherently faithful about wanting him to fuck his cum inside you, a sensation you’re aware would scream your devotion to each other but is against every rule set in place for someone like you…someone like him as well,

But you can’t find it in yourself to care, not when Rex was finally sinking so sweetly into your pussy over and over again until you couldn’t think of anything else but how utterly divine he felt as he joined your bodies with a string of unparalleled pleasure.

“Ner jetii’ika, I- I’m…oh kriff, where do I-”

“Inside me, please!” You cut him off, swallowing his moans as he shakes above you while bringing one of his hands in between your bodies, the sudden touch of his digits against your oversensitive clit making you arch your back into his chest and part your lips for him. He grunts several times while rubbing your hardened bundle of nerves, swirling his tongue around your own when he feels you clench harshly around him. You shudder beneath him, unable to fathom the sensations he was pulling from you so easily, so exquisitely. Just as you break the kiss to breathe, Rex growls your name in between expletives, shoving his cock into you a few times before finally coming undone. Your pleasure lasts for longer than you thought possible, the feeling of his seed painting your walls and oozing out of you somehow making you feel even more attuned to his pleasure, as if his ecstasy was connected to your own and refused to part from it. He bucks his hips into you with shallow thrusts, resting his forehead against your chest as he slowly comes down from the brief high.

You’re both too dazed to move a single muscle, and when you try to unwrap your legs from around him, Rex hisses in surprise at feeling your pussy flutter around him one last time. He finally sits up to look at you, and you watch as the smirk on his face grows with each bit of skin he sees adorned with his touch.

“So…all of that means ‘mesh’la’?” You break the silence and laugh along with him when he finally catches on to what you’re referring to, only to hiss in discomfort when he pulls out of you and leaves you empty. You watch as Rex reluctantly sits up and shoves your thighs apart to look at the mess he’s made of you. You want to shake your head at him, call him disgusting for being so obvious with what he’s done to you, but when you find him biting his lips and staring at you with newfound lust, you realize that teasing him may not be the best idea now.

“Fuck cyare, you look beautiful.” You giggle as you hide behind your arms once more, making Rex tease you about your shy bedside manner when he was literally fucking you into kingdom come not a moment ago. He gets up and walks to the refresher, quickly coming back to you to clean you up so you don’t have to move much. You can’t help but look at him with adoration as he rubs every inch of your skin. He’s careful and patient with you, taking his time to caress your skin before throwing the towel aside and reaching for one of his shirts to hand you.

“Why give me a shirt when you know you’ll take it off of me in another hour?” You ask him teasingly, laughing hysterically when he throws it aside and shoves his sweatpants down his thighs.

Your eyes shift to his cock instantly, and you marvel at how thick and long he is…and the fact that he was already starting to get hard again.

“To even the field,” he winks at you as he slips beneath the covers and pulls you into his side, wrapping his arm around you before dimming down the lights.

You sit in silence for what feels like hours, drawing patterns on his beautiful, bronze chest while he rubs your shoulder and back to soothe your body. It’s only after a while that Rex finally breaks the quiet air of the room and looks down at you, waiting until you meet his eyes before he finally tells you what he’s wanted to say for so long.

“I would rather die than let anything happen to you, ner cyare. You know that right?” He says, matter-of-factly, and you sense a sliver of anxiety fill his otherwise calm aura for a brief moment before it evaporates into thin air.

“I know darling, and you know by now that the feeling is mutual.” It’s not what he wants to hear, that you are sure of, but you can’t find it in yourself to lie to him, wanting him to know that you care for him just as much as he cares for you.

“I guess both of us are going to be stubborn about this.” He shakes his head and leans over to kiss your forehead before resting back against the pillow once more.

“You bet your sweet ass.” You retort immediately, yelping in shock when he pinches your shoulder and sends you closer into his chest.

“You haven’t even seen my ass, sweetheart.” He snorts at your comeback, glancing down at you for a moment before shutting his eyes and enjoying the feeling of having you so willing and relaxed in his arms.

“Oh, believe me Captain, I have seen your ass…and I fucking love it.”

#CFGE23 #cloneficgiftexchange23 #captain rex x reader #captain rex/reader #captain rex x afab!reader #captain rex x fem@reader #captain rex #the clone wars #star wars #star wars the clone wars #captain rex fanfiction #captain rex smut #captain rex fluff #captain rex angst

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kittyball23 · 10 months

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Could you make a fanfiction of when Poppy surprised Branch that she was expecting to have a baby? And they tell all their friends and family the news? How would Branch react? And how would their family and friends react to the news too? I always imagine that they're excited to become parents, and so do their loved ones!? Could you do that? I also love the idea that their little girl had blue eyes, like her father's, Branch, indigo hair, and I imagined she looked like her mother, Poppy.

Hi! I wanted to break this up into 2 parts, this first one will be the siblings’ reaction to the news - I think Branch’s deserves a separate oneshot (I can’t say when I’ll have it ready for, as I do have a couple other requests from my Inbox to fill, but I hope you enjoy!)

Taking the News (a Trolls fanfic)

“AAAIIIIIIIYYYYYYYAIIIII!!!!”

Viva’s excited scream burst through the air, the Putt Putt Queen leaping a good couple feet up in an uncontained joy. The energy only doubled once she landed, waving her hands wildly about and gushing while she paced about and spoke a mile a minute. “OMIGOSH, OMIGOSH, OMIGOSH, I CAN’T BELIEVE IT!” She zipped over to Poppy and gently patted at her belly.

“Hello in there! It’s your Auntie Viva! Oh, I just know you’re gonna be so itty, and bitty, and cutie-wootie just like your Mommy was! AND I’M SO EXCITED TO MEET YOU!”

The Pop Queen giggled at her sister. “Veevs, I’m only a couple months. I’m not even sure if they can hear you yet!”

Branch on the other hand differed on this viewpoint. “After that scream? Yeah, they probably did.” Viva grinned sheepishly when she noticed the blue Troll rub his ears.

“Oh! I’m so sorry, Branch! It’s just that this is so, SO fantast-amazing!! Actually, it’s better than fantast-amazing! It’s fantast-AMAWESOME!” She squealed and bounced off to the side, expending her energy in one of the best ways she knew how - braiding! By the time her feet were back on the ground, it was Clay who was donning a brand-new French-braided hairstyle, topped off with little bows and glitter of all sorts of colors.

Clay groaned at how silly it looked. “Viva! Why me?” he whined.

Viva sprang to his side and gave him a playful punch on the shoulder. “Because you need to stop being a serious-boy grumpy-poo and get loose! My sis is gonna be a mom!! And your brother’s gonna be a dad!!” She celebrated by grabbing Clay in a tight hug and twirling him around.

When he was released, the lime-green-Troll found himself taking her advice, forgetting all about his hair and grinning broadly at Branch.

“Congrats, bro! I’m real proud of ya!” He fist-bumped the bashful blue Troll. Branch readied himself to reply, when he suddenly heard a sniffle. It came as no surprise that the Troll who had burst into tears was none other than Floyd.

“Oh, Branch, this is such a special thing! I’m honored to be an uncle, and I’m so happy for you…” He trailed off, a sob taking place where words failed him. He easily wept into Branch’s shoulder when his younger bro pulled him in for a hug.

“Thanks. I’m pretty psyched, too,” Branch agreed, smiling as he pictured their child. What would they look like? Perhaps they’d have his dark, indigo hair and sparkling blue eyes. Or they could be all Poppy, in gorgeous appearance and stunning personality. Or maybe their kid would inherit King Peppy’s orange skin tone, or Grandma Rosiepuff’s teal button nose. Branch’s head spun with all of the possibilities, each and every one perfect and plausible, until the reality of the situation weighed down on him. Being a father was a big responsibility. A flicker of doubt seemed to flash across his face right at that moment, which did not go unnoticed by Bruce.

The purple-haired Troll approached him and patted a hand on his back. “Hey, man, I know it can seem kinda scary at first - I know I was a little nervous for my first kid - but trust me, it becomes a breeze. And when it’s not, just call me for help! I got your back, bro.” He winked at Branch, making him feel a lot better. Bruce, after all, was an experienced dad, having fathered 13 kids of his own - all of who would become cousins to the new bundle of joy entering into his life.

John Dory suddenly swept in alongside them. “And me, too!”

Branch and Bruce gave him a curious look. “Wait… John, you’re a dad?”

JD’s jaw dropped. “Uh, yeah! You forgot? Man!” He strolled over to his caterbus, Rhonda, and patted her side lovingly. “It’s okay, girly,” he cooed, “they didn’t mean to forget about you, darling. Who’s the cutest caterbussy in the whole wide world? Huh? You are!”

Rhonda trilled in appreciation at John Dory’s sappy words, while Branch exchanged a look with his other brothers. While he wanted to point out that taking care of a caterbus was not all the same as it was taking care of a little Trolling, Branch couldn’t help but feel his own bout of appreciativeness towards his bro’s offer to help. Feeling playful, he grabbed JD with one arm and noogied him with the other, the pair of them laughing by the end of it.

Poppy and Viva in the meantime were having their own share of sisterly love, hugging and shrieking, and jumping up and down over the elation of it all.

“Ohhh, I can’t wait to tell everyone!” Poppy cried. “I’m gonna tell Bridget, and Biggie, and Mr. Dinkles, and Guy Diamond, and Satin and Chenille, and - “

“And Dad!” Viva cut in with a grin.

Poppy squealed. “Oh, my gosh!”

She and Viva shouted at the same time at the top of their lungs: “DAD’S GONNA FREAK!” Both girls burst into a fit of giggles just picturing the look on the elderly king’s face once the news hit him full force.

Viva bounced up and down once again and wrangled Poppy and the boys together.

“Aw, come here, guys! Group hug!” Arms enveloped Poppy and Branch from all sides in a flurry of limbs, letting the two happy parents know that they - along with their new kiddo - were indeed loved very dearly.

**********************************************************

A/N: Happy Thanksgiving!!

#trolls #trolls 3 #trolls band together #broppy #dreamworks #branch trolls #poppy trolls #viva trolls #brozone #john dory #spruce trolls #clay trolls #floyd trolls #fanfiction #kittyball writes #thanks for the ask!#kittyball answers #100+

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becauseimanicequeen · 4 months

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I've used a lot of purple in my work today, and some yellow, and it got me thinking about Wandee Goodday (tell me I'm obsessed with Wandee Goodday without telling me I'm obsessed with Wandee Goodday, lol)...

Purple and yellow are contrasting colors (also called complementary colors) because they are on opposite sides of the color wheel. Contrasting colors are the definition of "opposites attract" when it comes to color because they are completely different but complement each other very well. When placed next to each other (or, as in my profession, somewhere within the confines of the same canvas), it creates high impact and contrast. They pop.

So, what does that tell me about Yak and Dee in Wandee Goodday? That their contrasts complement each other.

Dee (purple) is more mysterious and (let's be honest) a bit cold. Yak (yellow) is more clear/direct and warm.

Dee enjoys luxury. I mean, neon lights (at least the quality stuff) are expensive and we've seen how much he likes neon lights.

Yak seems to enjoy the simpler things in life like just being around the people he likes and having fun with dressing up in different costumes.

(I could be wrong about this, though, considering he can, somehow, get his hands on all those costumes and props he uses to disguise himself when he goes to Dee's place. Maybe that's a very expensive hobby/kink he has, lol.)

Anyway...

What's interesting about purple and yellow, in particular, is that they also have overlapping traits, and (not so) surprisingly, so do Dee and Yak.

Purple (Dee) is associated with wisdom while yellow (Yak) is associated with intelligence. But even with this overlapping trait, Dee and Yak's wisdom/intelligence is different and complementary.

Dee is a doctor and it has surely taken him a lot of studying to get to where he is now. The kind of intelligence he uses every day (because of his work) is scientific and analytical.

Yak's intelligence is, I would say, more of an intuitive and emotional kind. He took what Taem said about people not always being able to be strong, saw it in Dee, and was able to empathize with it.

Even though they're both wise/intelligent, they are so in their own ways.

(Yes, Dee shows empathy for his patients as well, but I feel like he lacks some of the other aspects of EI at the moment, like self-regulation, for example.)

Another interesting aspect of purple and yellow is that purple is the color on the color wheel that's closest in value to black while yellow is the color closest in value to white.

In other words, purple is the color on the color wheel that reflects the least amount of light while yellow is the color that reflects the most.

Even though black and white and purple and yellow have different qualities and symbolism, the contrast between dark and light is there in both pairs.

Black is often associated with the night while purple is associated with mystery (one of the reasons being that pure purple is so dark it was likened to the evening/night in the past). White is often associated with light while yellow is (in the West) associated with the sun. In Thailand, yellow is associated with Mondays, and Mondays are associated with the moon (the light in the night sky).

With this in mind, it could be that Yak (yellow) is coming into Dee's (purple) life to shine some light.

There was that hint (in the 3rd episode) of a car accident that (most likely) took Dee's parents' lives. Considering what we saw in that flash of his memory, he saw them dead. Whether he was in the car with them or not doesn't matter, the trauma was evidently deep either way.

While I don't believe in other people being able (or having the responsibility) to heal your trauma (you have to work on that yourself), Yak might still be able to give Dee some light through another perspective on life. Perhaps to work less (so he'll have the time to change the lightbulbs, lol) and make more time for fun and play (like their FWB relationship).

With the whole contrast in values between purple and yellow, combined with the reasons they're in this FWB/fake boyfriend relationship, I also feel like Dee might end up hurting Yak.

Yak seems to be the one who is mostly into this FWB/fake boyfriend relationship and it feels like that because he wants to be there (he clearly likes Dee). Dee, on the other hand, is mostly in it for his own personal gain (at first to prove that he isn't vanilla and then to show Ter and the gossipy idiots at the hospital that he’s not into Ter).

And let's not forget that he likes to win...

And will probably do whatever it takes to win over Ter (since he admitted that winning at all costs is a bad habit he has).

The question is how much Dee will hurt Yak on the way to winning (because I'm pretty sure Dee will win the scholarship) and how far he will go before he realizes what he's doing/what he's done and what Yak actually means to him.

Eventually, though, Dee will realize his feelings because I'm sure he will see the light that Yak has brought into his life (literally and figuratively).

Anyway, that was my rant about color. I'll shut up now...

#wandee goodday #wandee goodday the series #iq color post #color theory #color symbolism #big color moments #purple #yellow #complementary colors #contrasting colors #thai ql #thai bl #thai series #my shit #the colors mean things

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moon-huny · 1 year

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Stole the Moon - Chapter Three

CW: My content is not for anyone under 18. Major language in this one ya'll. Also, smut towards the end. Some she/her pronouns used for reader in this one, and implied afab physicality. Oh, and masturbation. Kidnapping, coercion, imprisonment.

Word Count: 4.1K

Summary: After being treated to a day of R&R, you and Buggy sit down for dinner.

A/N: So, I am like 15 mins late with this one. But look at the word count, now that's content baby! I worked kinda hard on it, so I hope ya'll like. I have never written smut before and it was a challenge. Lmk how I did. I feel confident that ya'll will like it, but you never know. Constructive criticism is for bad bitches so have at it!

There are some OC characters in this chapter. I know OCs can be a bit hit or miss. Do ya'll like em? Should I continue to include them? Don't be afraid to tell me what you think. I am only married to a few ideas in this series that I know have to happen, otherwise I welcome ya'lls ideas.

Oh! and happy kinktober. Okay, that's all, enjoy.

masterlist ✧˖°

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The moment Buggy shut the door the two young women were circling you like vultures. They pulled at your dress and snickered to themselves. The red-haired girl tugged at the ends of your hair and giggled.

“What exactly does captain –” she said.

“Expect us to do with you?” the raven-haired girl finished.

They dressed alike, finished one another's sentences, the way they took up space in a room together read as though they had known each other for a long time.

“I take it your sisters?” You said, hoping to perhaps gain an understanding of their relationship.

They both laughed at your question.

“You hear that, Lettie?” questioned the fairer one.

“Marie, she thinks we’re sisters.” replied the other woman whose skin was steeped in golden tones.

Being in the same room as them felt like suffocation. As though they spoke a language you didn’t and breathed in air from an atmosphere you could only dream of.

“Come on,” they both said in unison and began to make their way out of Buggy’s quarters. If you thought that understanding them was a challenge, keeping pace with them was just as difficult.

Exiting through the ornate double doors, the sun had risen much further in the sky than you’d expected. Nearly at its peak, you enjoyed the warmth it provided and would have basked in it all day if given the chance. However, your escorts were making their way back down towards the lower decks of the ship at a quick pace.

As you hurried across the deck of the ship to follow, you took a moment to scan your surroundings. Looking around the deck of the ship, crew mates in various theatrical themed garb milled about. Looking up toward the starboard quarter, you noticed the captain with two other men – one of whom was the swordsman who freed you from your cage earlier that morning.

They seemed to be pouring over a map – the map. He could feel you staring at him. Buggy looked up from the paper he and the two others were arguing over. A slight smirk pulled across his red painted lips.

Deciding your eye contact lasted long enough, you turned back around to follow behind the strange duo, climbing down into the lower decks after them.

The two women walked hand in hand down the tight corridors. As you passed the turn that would have taken you back to your prison, you just nearly stopped, looked down through the unlit tunnel, and continued on your way.

Upon reaching the destination, the two stood on either side of a thick purple curtain along the tight hallway. The dark haired woman peeled back the heavy fabric and ushered you into the room. In the center was a beautiful, if not marginally damaged, claw foot tub. Glass bottles of every shade lined the walls, stained glass lanterns were the only light source.

“It’s getting cold,” they both said and gestured to the tub. The basin was full of steaming water that smelled of rosemary and mint. You gently pushed past them and floated into the room awestruck by the idea that such a place existed down the hall from your own personal hell.

“We’ll be back soon,” they said in a sing-song tone as they slowly closed the curtain behind you.

///

It is difficult to clock how long you spent pampering yourself in the bath. Even after the water went from scalding to cool, you couldn’t help but mindlessly float and get cozy in the water.

Your thoughts continually slipped back to your captor. His eyes had regarded you with such gentleness earlier but his smile told you he still wasn’t one to be trusted … but those eyes. The way they drank all of you in as though he could never get enough.

You reached up to wrap your hands around your neck feeling the necklace there. His touch could be bruising, painful, enough to make you squirm. But now, knowing he could be so light, and teasing. You closed your eyes attempting to recall the way he gently brushed your skin when he hooked the jewelry around you. You could imagine what that touch would be like lower, and lower, and … you caught yourself. You promptly removed your hands from your body and gripping each side of the tub.

These thoughts you had for him were nothing but frustrations. To act on them would send you down a rabbit hole you might never crawl back out of. Stopping now was for your own good.

Just as you were leaning back to submerge yourself in the water, an anxiety welled up in your chest, as though a weight were all of a sudden being slowly lowered onto you. A memory began creeping its way back into your mind.

Waves. Terror. Screaming. Fear.

Eleven years old and drowning. The unforgiving sea pulled your small body through its currents. You didn’t know which way was up or down. Your lack of direction caused you to flail about in the surf attempting to reach out a hand and touch the precious air instead of more water.

You couldn’t see anything but the physical memory was there. The feeling of the sandbars scraping your skin as you were unforgivingly cast against them. It was then you remembered reaching out your hand and feeling hair. Then a hand. An arm. A face. Someone was next to you in the water, but they weren’t moving.

All of a sudden you felt another person wrap their arms around you. A very strong and living presence carried you out of the churn and you remember feeling air hit your lungs as you –

Gasped out loud. Finally coming up for air from just underneath the waterline of the tub. The two women were pulling you up and out by your wrists.

“Oh my god, what –”

“In the east blue were –”

“You thinking!”

As you panted for air and cleared the water from your face, you couldn’t tell which one was speaking.

“We leave you alone for one hour –”

“And you try to drown yourself in a three foot tub!”

///

“So you aren’t related?” You said, feeling a bit embarrassed that you had to repeat the question.

You were wrapped in a satin robe provided to you by Marie from her “personal favorites” closet. A gesture that seemed kind at first only until you realized that Lettie had ripped a hole through her copy of the red lacy loungewear and now neither of the women could wear it for fear they wouldn’t match.

“You dress so similar, all the way down to makeup and hair,” you continue.

“We’re acrobats,” they said.

Lettie continued, “at first, it was all just a part of our act.”

“But we decided that we liked being as close as possible at all times,” finished Marie. Her ocean blue eyes shone into Lettie’s golden amber pair.

“Even if that means inhabiting the same dress to feel truly synced,” replied Lettie.

Marie was curled up in her lap. The two women couldn’t keep their hands off of one another now that they were seated in the close quarters of their cabin. The space was small yet, crammed with stuff they’d collected. The queen-sized hammock they let you lie on swung on one side of the room. They were sprawled out on a beautiful yellow loveseat across from you.

Clothing was tossed around the room in various locations. Corsets, garters, stockings and dresses all poked out from trunks and drawers. An ornate gold mirror adorned the wall, a sack full of makeup products was tossed to the side underneath it.

“You must really love each other,” you said, feeling a pang of loneliness in your chest. You had curled up with a pillow on the surprisingly comfortable suspended cotton.

“We didn’t at first,” said Marie. “In fact, we hated one another.”

“Marie!” cried Lettie.

So it seems they weren’t always on the same page. At least not enough to always know what the other one was thinking.

“We were … competitive,” said Lettie. “I simply could not stand the fact that she was so talented when she joined the circus. She was outstanding and I hated being upstaged by her.”

“And I couldn’t stand the meat head you had drooling over you all the time,” said Marie. “It really ticked me off. If I ever upstaged you, my love, it was because I knew I had to compete for your affections.”

“There was no competition,” said Lettie. “Once Xander caught on to that, and I realized that I loved you and only you, he was toast.”

Clearly reminiscing on their past was pulling them into their own orbit making them quickly forget your presence.

“So, what happened?” you asked, pulling them from whatever intimate moment they were about to share.

“I killed her fiance – who happened to be the ring leader's son,” said Marie.

“We agreed to live the rest of our lives as pirates on the run,” finished Lettie.

The way they held one another, the words they so sweetly exchanged made your heart ache. As they slowly added more details to their love story, it made you yearn for a partnership so full of passion and affection.

///

Marie and Lettie continued to share stories of their adventures far into the afternoon as they dug through trunks, barrels, drawers, suitcases and bags attempting to find something for you to wear.

Finally they found a suitable dress for the evening meal you were preparing to sit for. The fabric fell around you perfectly, a short and very lacy white dress with wide flowing sleeves. They threw you a pair of dark red suede boots that climbed up your legs to your mid thigh. The beautiful moonstone still sat proudly on your chest.

Maire took it upon herself to tend to your hair and Lettie made herself comfortable in front of you to do your makeup. Nothing too crazy, just enough to hide the exhaustion that couldn't be whipped away in the bath.

“Your hair is so pretty,” said Marie as she worked her way through the ornate hairdo. “Like a mermaid.”

Lettie’s eyes shot up toward her partner, a look of warning and one you certainly couldn’t ignore.

“I- I just mean that …” stuttered Marie under her lover's hardened gaze.

As if on cue, Lettie swooped in, “she means that you have very beautiful features, like those legendary beasts. But thank goodness those terrible despicable things have long since died out.”

“Yes! Yes. That is exactly right, my darling. Look! I’m all done!” Marie ran up to the table and grabbed a small vanity mirror to show you the brilliant job she did.

“And I’m done as well so it would be best if you start heading up towards the kitchen, yes?” said Lettie.

“You won’t come with me?”

“Sorry dear we –”

“Have a few things to attend to,” they said, ushering you out of the room.

They waved at you from their room as you made your way back down the hallway.

Once you were out of earshot, Lettie could feel that Marie had something to say.

“What is it?”

“I can't help but feel like we’re sending her into the mouth of a predator.”

Lettie sighed and made her way back into the cabin, “it’s just the way he wants it done, Marie, I am not going to interfere.”

“Really? We already touched her, we weren't supposed to do that, remember?”

Lettie sighed, she knew the red haired girl was right.

“I know, my love, I know,” said Lettie. “But telling her? Hinting? Leading in such a way as to help her remember her past? That’s too risky.”

Marie was shutting her out, crossing her arms and looking out the door after you. Lettie floated over to her partner, she cupped the other woman’s pale white hands in her own warm brown ones.

“I love you,” she continued. “We worked so hard to find this crew, to escape our old life.”

“I’ve killed for you,” replied Marie. “If I followed every rule, you would have been bed and wed to that loathsome strongman and I wouldn’t be holding you every night.”

“I think we’ve done enough, Marie.”

“And I know you don’t think that’s true.”

///

Entering the kitchen, a beautifully carved table was set with dozens of bronze candle holders each cradling a different colored stick of wax. The soft glow of all the tiny flames kept the center of the space well lit while the rest of the kitchen faded into darkness.

All of a sudden, you heard the door slam shut behind you. Jumping at the sound, you turned around to see a hand pushed flat against the heavy door.

“You kept me waiting.”

Turning back around you saw the pirate captain leaning back in his chair, his feet crossed and kicked up at one end of the table. He was studying a goblet of wine before taking a sip from the decorated cup. His disconnected appendage floated past you and connected itself back to its rightful location.

“Patience is a virtue,” you reply calmly.

You were starving, the food laid out on the table looked too good to be true. Fruits and fish and rice and all the things your empty stomach groaned for.

“Well, it isn’t all bad if it means my acrobats take the time to make you look like that,” he flirted back.

Clearly the dress was doing wonders for you. You caught him gazing at the length of your legs and the small expanse of your exposed thigh right were the lace of your dress and the tops of your boots left just enough to the imagination.

“Hungry?” he questioned. “Cause I’m starving.”

You made your way to stand by the smug man. His eyes drunk you in as you approached him. Placing both your hands on the table next to him, you began your line of questioning.

“I need to know what you want from me,” you demanded.

“Oh honey, what don’t I want?”

“Cut the shit, clown,” you bit back. “The map you showed me four days ago. What’s it to and why did you need me to recognize it?”

He sighed. “Why don’t you eat first? You must be so so hungry.”

“No thanks to you,” you said.

“I’ll tell you about the map, just eat something first, yea?” He nodded toward your seat at the other end of the table.

Finally deciding to relent, you followed his direction and sat at the other end of the table. The plate before you held some of the most delicious food you’d ever seen. A grilled tilapia, no, mahi mahi, you really didn’t care what it was, it was edible.

Hesitantly you took a first bite, then another, and soon you were devouring the food in front of you. You don’t think you’d ever eaten so fast in your life.

“Drink something, you’ll choke,” he commented, still maintaining his relaxed posture in the chair. He notably hadn’t eaten a thing. If you weren’t so consumed with stifling your hunger, you would have assumed everything on the table was poisoned.

Having him order you to do something with such cool confidence would typically make you enraged, but this command was more of an invitation, one you happily took. You picked up your matching vessel of wine and gulped it down. It was like nothing you’d ever tasted. Sweet and smooth and just rich enough to sit warmly in your stomach.

You quickly made work of what was in the cup. Then stood and reached for the rest of the bottle in the center of the place setting. Uncorking the top with your teeth, you threw your head back and chugged.

All the while he watched you. Gently lifting the cup to his lips to sip the very nectar you so intensely swallowed down. When you finished, you steadied yourself on the edge of the table and panted, hand still wrapped around the neck of the bottle, your eyes flicked upward to catch his green ones staring back at you.

“The map is to the Grand Line,” he said, holding eye contact. He placed his cup down and moved his body to fully face yours. “There is a river that travels up a mountain. In other words, it’s impossible to traverse it, unless you have a strong ship – or you know how to cheat it.”

You continued to watch him, eyes dark as he finally explained what the map was for. You knew about the Grand Line. Everyone did. There were monsters and pirates and some of the fiercest dangers you could think of.

“And why do you need me?”

He stood and made his way to you. In the candle light his features were so sharp. The shadow of his jaw, the hollows of his cheeks emphasizing gorgeous cheekbones, his deep set eyes darkened in their sockets despite their bright color. The red color of his nose matched that of his lips which looked so much softer the closer he got. He leaned into the side of your face.

“Oh baby, there are a lot of reasons I need you,” he said whispering in your ear.

He placed a gloved hand on top of your own on the table. It was so much larger than yours and he was so warm. The absence of his coat and hat made him look so much more relaxed, his muscular arms fully displayed. Maybe it was the alcohol in your stomach making its way through your bloodstream, but you began to feel lightheaded.

You slowly turned your head to face him and he followed suit. His seafoam eyes made contact with your own. His lustful gaze sped up your heartbeat. His lips were parted and you could feel his hot breath on your own, so painfully close but not close enough.

“My question for you, gorgeous,” he whispered into the space between you. “Do you need me?”

Your face shifted from a testing confidence to a pleading look of pure want. Your eyebrows pushed together and your eyes morphed from a darkened tease to a blown out lust.

“Oh good,” he purred. “Why don’t you say it, hmm?” His other hand came up to pet goose bumps on the skin of your arm. His fingers leading from your hand, up the back of your forearm, and softly drawing a line until he finally reached your shoulder, your neck, your cheek where he cupped your face.

Turning his head he went straight for the soft spot he knew would make you relent, nipping and pecking the soft skin there. His soft words and lips combined with the scratch of his stubble was enough to make you wet.

“Say it baby, just tell me how much you need your captain.” he growled into your ear.

Through the haze of lust and alcohol, you felt a defiance rise.

“You …” you gasped out.

“Yeeess?” he hissed.

“Are …” you continued.

Panting between words, his hand drifted down to caress your thigh and slowly pushed the lace of your skirt up so he could grip your bare hip.

“Not my captain,” you snarled.

Placing your hands on his chest you pushed, hard. The shock of the action was enough to send him staggering back.

“You fucking little witch!” he yelled.

“And what the fuck are you going to do about it?!” you shouted back. “You gonna fucking kill me?! Oh wait, you wouldn’t –”

Your rant was cut short by his forearms detaching from his body. One pulled you by the wrist back into your chair and the other grabbed a small rope from across the room. You kicked, screamed and fought but he was stronger than you. Once you were bound by your wrists behind the chair, he stalked back toward you. Crouching down in front of you to knee level.

He peered up at you from his position on the floor. If it weren’t for the white hot anger coursing through you, his new orientation could have easily filled you with need.

“You’re a difficult woman,” said Buggy. What he wouldn’t tell you was that, from this position, he could smell your desire, and it was intoxicating. He inhaled and sucked his bottom lip in between his teeth, biting down to hide the guttural moan he wanted so desperately to let out.

“Good thing I like a challenge,” he reached behind himself and pulled out a red smoke bomb. You immediately recognized it and began to fight against your confines yet again.

“No, no, no, Buggy no,” you warbled out.

“Sweet dreams, sweetheart,” and with that he squeezed the little round pouch. As it disintegrated in his hand, he made his way to the door.

Leaving the kitchen, Buggy caught the attention of Cabaji, the only other crew member walking on the deck of the ship this late at night.

“Watch her,” said the blue haired man, pulling his bandanna off his head and heading at a quick pace to his cabin.

Cabaji had questions, tons, but he could tell that now wasn’t the time. The green haired chief of staff walked into the kitchen and saw your sleeping form draped over yourself in the chair, bound and half your neck painted in red.

///

Buggy slammed the door to his quarters. His long hair fell all around his face in a disheveled curtain of electric blue.

“That little fucking whore!” He threw his papers across the room, wiping his desk clean of all that was on it.

“God what I wouldn’t give to just ruin that, fuck, to absolutely snuff the rebellious spirit outta her, god damn it!”

He was still hard and frustrated from teasing you. Recalling your little panting breaths – not yet moans – sent even more pulsing desire straight to his cock. The fire in your eyes when you defy him, what he would give to just crush it and force you under him.

The growling moans he bit back before now so casually fell from his lips. He let out a light chuckle and spread himself out on his throne.

He thought back to the softness of your skin where his lips grazed you. How he knew you’d feel like that all over the rest of your body. And god, your smell. The perfume you wore still lingered on his cotton glove. He pulled the white garment off his hand with his teeth while his other hand squeezed where his hardened member swelled beneath his belt.

“Oh, fuuck ~ ” he moaned.

Both of his hands made quick work of the metal buckle, he pulled his dick from the confines once he got the zipper down. Gripping the angry shaft, his tip already leaking precum, he knew he wouldn’t last long.

After swiping over the slit and collecting his slick with his ungloved hand he tugged quickly on his cock. He could only imagine your beautiful curves and the sweet little face you made when you wanted him.

“Oh shit, good fucking girl, yes, yes, pull on this dick, fucking make me cum.” he growled out. His eyes fell shut and his head rolled back. He imagined what it would be like to eat you out, to have you ride his face and rub your sensitive little clit on his nose.

He’d make you come again and again just to hear you, something he still hadn’t gotten the pleasure to discover. Would you be quiet, whimpering and whining like a little kitten and cumming with a sweet and soft little shudder around his cock? Would you be loud and vocal like his own personal whore, your tight pussy squeezing him like a vice when you came?

“Fuuuuck baby, when I get inside you, fuck, when I get inside you I won’t fucking stop god fucking damn it,” he rambled out, gripping his dick tighter. “Fuck. Fuck. I wanna, princess, fuck, baby your captain wants to cum. Make me cum. That’s right, yes, good girl, such a good girl f’ me make me cum.”

He was incoherent, completely drunk on his own pleasure and the thought of you. After a few more lewd tugs on his cock, he came with a groan that almost sounded painful. He sat back in his chair panting and coming down from the high you filled him with.

He slowly regained consciousness and raked his hands through his long hair. The makeup on his face long since smudged and sweated down his face. He cleaned up and tucked himself back into his pants.

The ship would be docked tomorrow, looking out the back window, Buggy could see land and, as if on cue, the crew mate in the crow’s nest shouted the all familiar phrase of land ho.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚

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