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floras-imagination · 7 months ago

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guitar hands 🎸✌️- matty healy x reader

summary: You can no longer hide the longing obsession for your best friend matty's hands... word count: 3.8k warnings: 18+ smut, fingering authors note: It's been ages since I've written a fanfiction, so this one might be a bit rusty. I hope you enjoy it, though.❤️ Part 2

"I can't do this anymore!", you gasped as your best friend Matty opened the door.

You walked in quickly as he opened his mouth, to greet you, but you cut him off before he could say anything, leaving him standing in the doorway, staring at you in surprise.

"I will never date anyone ever again!", you turned around, looking at a very confused Matty who was still holding the doorknob in his hands.

You pointed your index finger in the air to emphasize your words, "And this time I really mean it, so don't you dare laughing!", you frowned furiously in his direction, in a way that Matty finds terribly cute. It's a facial expression you often make when you're mad and Matty can't ever hide his little smirk when he sees you like that. But this usually makes you even angrier, which Matty doesn't mind because, obviously, he loves it.

Sometimes he even teases you a little bit to see that fuming, adorable glance of yours. But he always chooses his words carefully to make sure he doesn't hurt you with anything he says.

You threw your black bag in the corner before plopping down on the couch in his living room, crossing your arms in front of your chest. Still frowning, you focused your eyes on the floor in front of you.

He closed the door and slowly made his way over to the couch. His hair was messy and a few strands of his curls hung over his forehead. He looked a bit drowsy, like he'd just woken up from a nap.

"Well... hello, love.", it was finally his turn to speak. His voice sounded low and sleepy.

He rubbed his left eye, before placing the palm of his hand on his cheek, "It's nice to see you...", he continued.

You didn't say anything.

He sat down beside you, admiring you with a big smirk on his face. Suddenly, he seemed less and less tired. You could literally see the sleepiness leaving his body as his smirk grew wider and wider. In his head, he counted down the seconds, well aware that his silly smile was going to drive you nuts in less than five seconds. One, two, three, four...

"What?" you spat at him, turning your head to your right to face him. "Can you please stop doing that?" you asked, finally relaxing the muscles of your forehead.

"Doing what?" he giggled back at you. The "what" sounded more like a "wha". You've always had a weakness for his strong British accent. Hearing Matty talk gave you a weird feeling inside your lower belly, a feeling you've been trying to ignore ever since you first noticed it.

Matty and you had been best friends since year 9. You met him on your first day of school, just a few days after you and your family had moved from New York to Manchester. After the teacher introduced you to the class, Matty offered to give you a tour of the school. You were extremely grateful to have such a friendly classmate as Matty, and the fear of spending every break alone promptly vanished as he never left your side during breaks, welcoming you into his circle of friends.

You must admit you found him attractive, and he became even more appealing over the years. But he never made any moves that could suggest he wanted more than friendship, so you kept convincing yourself that this wasn't what you wanted either. You somewhat accustomed yourself to the idea of never getting closer to him, which made it easier to live with your hidden feelings. It has been ten years now, and sometimes you were so adept at denying your feelings that you even started to believe the lies you told yourself. In the meantime, you also had a few boyfriends and situationships where you completely forgot about your feelings for Matty due to being preoccupied.

Sadly, each of your relationships turned out to be exceedingly toxic, which made it difficult for you to focus on anything else. You constantly worried about not being enough or being too much. Days without arguments and tears were extremely rare, but Matty was always there for you.

"Oh come on, you know what I mean"

He was about to say something again, but you didn't let him.

"Looking at me like that when I'm mad. It's not funny, Matty! This is a serious situation!"

"A serious situation? Oh, okay. Well, you already said that a few weeks ago, when you came home from your date with that other bloke... Wait, what was his name again?", he paused for a moment as he touched his chin, looking up at the ceiling, pretending to think. After two seconds he gave up, because he really didn't remember the boy's name.

About 10 months ago, your boyfriend of two years broke up with you. It was a tough time for you, but Matty had been incredibly supportive. He let you sleep at his place on nights when you didn't want to be alone, which was almost every night for about a month and a half after the breakup. You cried a lot, and your best friend held you throughout the entire night, calming you down and making sure you had someone to talk to. The two of you shared a few restless nights during which neither of you got much sleep. However, cuddling was nothing new or special since you've been doing this ever since you became close friends. Matty has always craved cuddles from you, especially during movie nights or casual hangouts. You didn't read too much into it, presuming it's a normal thing best mates tend to do, but little did you know that he's been hiding his feelings as well...

When you eventually started to feel a bit better, Matty encouraged you to download some dating apps because he said something like 'the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else.' That's also how the singer tried to get over his crush on you. He hooked up with numerous girls over the past years, desperately trying to feel something similar to the affection he feels in your presence, yet each trial remained unsuccessful.

You decided to give his advice a shot, and it was actually an excellent way to distract yourself from your aching heart. Though you didn't have much luck with your dates, you were at least able to get over your ridiculous ex.

"Anyway," he shrugged, "It doesn't matter."

"I don't remember his name either," you said dryly, still not averting your gaze from his face. Matty immediately turned his head to the left, now looking into your eyes as both of you burst into heavy, heartfelt laughter.

"Come here, darling..." he laughed, raising his left arm to pull you into a lovingly sweet hug.

He loved having you around and spending intimate and funny moments like this one with you. Seeing you heartbroken and sad broke his heart into a million little pieces. Lately, he's been struggling a lot with his self-control, not knowing how much longer he'll be able to keep his longing feelings for you a secret.

As you lay in his embrace, head resting on his soft, comfy chest, he snuggled his nose into your freshly washed hair, which smelled like a huge field of spring flowers.

"You wanna tell me what happened?" he mumbled against your head.

You were now completely relaxed, feeling happy in the lovely arms of your friend. "The date was horrible," you laughed, starting to tell your story. "We met up for dinner, and he was talking about himself the whole time! How he goes to the gym every single day... and it was just gym, gym, gym... and then he asked me if I did any sports, and I said no, and then he was talking some kind of bullshit again... but I wasn't even listening anymore at this point," you tittered before continuing, "Then I wanted to order some ice cream for dessert, and then he told me how unhealthy sugar was..." you couldn't stop yourself from laughing.

"No, really?" Matty laughed, still holding you tight. "What did you say then?"

"Nothing. I just grabbed my bag and left."

Matty threw his head back, roaring in laughter. "This is my girl. I'm proud of you," he breathed heavily. "I have ice cream in the freezer. You want some?"

You immediately jumped up at his words. "Yes! Please!"

He got up from the couch, preparing you a bowl of ice cream in the kitchen.

He strolled back to the living room, carrying the cold bowl in his hands. You found yourself lost in your thoughts, admiring his large, delicate fingers. You called them guitar hands, since you've seen plenty of other guitarists having these kinds of hands, but Matty's have been your favourite. The mere thought of his agile fingers touching your neck or thighs caused shivers, leaving your whole body covered with goosebumps. In your dreams, you imagined them slowly unbuttoning your jeans, gently sliding into your panties to...

You briefly shook your head, forcing the end of this forbidden daydream, after staring at Matty like you've just seen a ghost.

"Are you alright?" he questioned, throwing a rather puzzled glance at you.

"Hm...what?" you uttered, shaking your head once again. "Yeah, yes, I'm fine. I was just... nevermind," a slight chuckle left your lips, masking the huge amount of shame you felt.

"Honestly, why was I even mad?" you snickered, trying to change the topic as he handed you your much-needed dessert. "This is just so hilarious. But anyway, I meant what I said earlier. I won't go on any more dates," you licked the spoon delightfully, "I'm done. From now on, I'm going to enjoy my single era alone."

For a very brief moment, a smutty thought crossed Matty's mind as he saw your tongue gliding over the back of the spoon you held in your small, soft hand. He pushed the thought away quickly.

"Whatever makes you happy, love. I'm just glad you're finally over your ex. You were too good for him. You deserve so much more than that," he declared, fantasizing about being the man by your side, knowing you well enough to meet all your unique needs.

"Yes, I know. I don't know what I saw in him," you agreed. "But let's just forget about it, please."

He smiled, pulling you into his arms to place a peck on the side of your head. The Netflix logo popped up on the big flat screen in front of you as Matty turned on the TV. "You wanna stay with me tonight?" he asked his best friend needily, in a romantic, cuddly mood. It had been a long time since your last sleepover, and he was desperate to have you near.

Your right cheek was already pressed against Matty's chest as you were sleepily nestled in his hug, mumbling your answer "Guess you already took that decision for me, didn't you?"

"Yep," he stated, resting his head on yours. Though he couldn't imagine anything better than lying there with the one person he loved, his gracious smile was tinged with melancholy, as he couldn't shake the doubt that you would never reciprocate the depth of his feelings.

--------------------------

You found yourself waking up alone in the soft embrace of Matty's bed, the night still cloaking the world outside. With a sleepy sigh, you shifted beneath the covers to get up. The door stood slightly ajar and the enchanting sound of a guitar drifted into the moonlit room.

You opened the door, following the echoing noise of music that came from the living room. Matty was sat on the couch with a guitar on his lap, wearing his blue nike sweater. His messy curls tangled all over his forehead, making him look so effortlessly handsome in the gloomy warm light of the fairy lights hanging from the bookshelf.

He was so deeply focused in playing, he didn't even notice you already stood in the living room. Seizing the moment, you took the opportunity to observe him, particularly captivated by the way his hands deftly fingered the chords on the guitar, moving with such grace as if they were dancing in silent harmony with the music.

He looked up to see you standing in front of him, adoring your dozy appearence as he stopped strumming the strings of the guitar.

"Morning, sleepyhead", he greeted you in the usual flirtatious way. "I couldn't sleep. Wanted to work a bit on that new song. Was it too loud?"

"No, it's fine. It sounds good. Can I listen?"

"Course you can. Sit down", he demanded with a grin on his face as he continued playing.

You loved the sound of Matty's new song and even though you tried your best to concentrate on the rythm of the music, you couldn't help yourself from staring at his hands again. The way his fingers nimbly glided over the fretboard, made you think about all the other things these supple hands could do to you. A sinking feeling of guiltful embarassement was spreading inside your stomach. You hated having these lustrous thoughts while sitting in front your best friend.

While you were still submerged in your shameful thoughts, Matty slowly emerged from the trance he typically falls into when he plays the guitar. His gaze drifted over to you, curious about what you were thinking about the new piece. He observed you for a moment until he realized you were absentmindedly fixated on his left hand.

Recalling a similar situation from earlier that day, he recognized the same expression on your face as when he had brought you the bowl of ice cream.

He stopped playing, causing you to look at his eyes as your consciousness returned. "Is anything wrong with my hands?"

"What? No, why?", you raised an eyebrow, snickering nervously. "What could be wrong with your hands?"

"You've been staring at my hands again!"

"I don't know what you're talking about. When did I stare at your hands?"

"Well, just now? And earlier when I gave you the ice-cream?"

"I haven't!"

"You have! And it's not the first time I caught you doing that..."

"I was just wondering which chords you used", you declared, visibly annoyed.

"You're such a bad liar."

"No, it's true!", you tried to defend yourself.

"Ah, so you were staring? "

"I wasn't!", your voice grew louder and louder. You weren't angry at him but at yourself for not being careful enough. What if he finds out about the feelings you'd been trying so hard to hide all these years? What if your friendship ended right now, right here, in this night? The enormous weight of fear and sadness settled like a lump in your throat, making it hard to swallow. You had to swallow though, since you already felt tears coming up that needed to be hidden at all cost. It was impossible for you to gulp without making a noise as the lump of woe was already way too big to be swallowed in secret.

"Gaslighting...", Matty teased in a lighthearted manner instead of being serious or mad. He knew he was right, especially now that you seemed so offended by his question.

"Okay, that's enough. I'll go home", without hesitation you bolted upright from the couch.

Matty immediately reacted by grabbing your wrist with his right hand, while still seated on the couch, holding the neck of the guitar with his left one. You turned around to face him as he was looking deep inside of your eyes. Contrary to your expectation he was still far from being furious. You caught a glimpse of him still holding the D chord as your eyes darted around. His thumb rested on the e string, tightly gripping the guitar's neck.

"It's quarter past midnight. You're not going anywhere", he stated with a slight chuckle, his playful demeanor both infuriating and comforting you. He endeavored to soothe your frayed nerves, but his touch and gaze left you feeling uncomfortably giddy, leaving you unable to think straight. You swallowed hard, meeting his piercing stare.

As Matty's intense gaze locked onto yours, he felt the floodgates of longing burst open within him. No longer did he bother to conceal his desire.

'Now or never', he thought to himself, 'do it, you muppet!'

With another firm grip on your wrist, he summoned up all his courage, guiding you towards him with a sudden movement as he finally crushed his lips onto yours. After years and years of dreaming about this exact moment, it now became reality. And it felt even better than both of you could have ever imagined. Setting the guitar aside, he placed it to his left on the couch, drawing you closer. Pressing you gently against the cushions, he positioned his body on top of yours, eagerly seeking your lips again.

In the next thirty minutes you were having your long awaited make out session, filled with lots of wet and fiery kisses along with tender, passionate touches.

No words required, Matty was overjoyed and now well aware of the fact that you returned what he felt for you. Even though Matty didn't mention a single word, you knew it too.

"I love you so much, baby", he confessed, right before he started to work his way down your neck, placing gentle kisses on your soft skin, "I've been meaning to do this for ages"

"I love you too, Matty", you whispered, still not knowing if you were awake or dreaming.

As he was passionately devouring you, he could feel your body trembling while lust was written all over your face.

"I didn't expect you to have such a dirty mind, though.", he smirked against your neck.

"What do you mean?", your voice was shaking.

"You haven't answered my question yet"

"Which question?"

"Why you're so obsessed with my hands...",

"Matty please...", you whined.

"What?", he asked as his lips were still clung to your neck, "Tell me what you want me to do with my hands"

You gulped as feelings of overwhelming embarrassment came flooding over you again.

He slowly moved his hand from your back over your chest, sliding it down your belly, causing you to shiver even more. He stopped at the button of your jeans, resting his hand on your waist as he peeked up to lock his gaze with yours. With fluttering eyes you glanced down at him, wondering why he stopped. The intense craving for having his fingers inside of you became unbearable.

While Matty was grinning from ear to ear, finding pleasure in torturing you with his teasing touches, he raised an eyebrow at you.

"Please, Matty... I...", you stuttered, still not being able to speak properly.

"Tell me, love"

"I...", your words came out as a faint whisper, "I need you. Matty, please..."

"Where?", he whispered back at you.

"Inside me...", you finally gave him the words he wanted to hear, not caring about another wave of shame that was crashing all over you.

Not waisting any more time, he unzipped your jeans, slowly making his way into your slip. By the time his soft fingers reached your clit, you closed your eyes, throwing your head back in deep pleasure. A heavy moan left your mouth, as you were electrified by his heavenly touch that you've been craving so desperately.

"No, no, no, no, no!", he complained, "I want you to look at me."

The inability to move made it impossible for you to follow his command.

He tightened the grip between your legs as he repeated his order, "I said look at me!"

Continuing his teasing game, Matty was about to pull his hand back out of your pants, due to your disobedience, but you immediately stopped him by grabbing his hand to keep it in place. "What are you doing?", you questioned, wanting him to continue what he started.

"Uhm.. pulling my hand out.", he answered casually with a shrug, pretending it wasn't part of his little game. His plan worked out immediately when you looked at him with that cute, furious frown on your face.

"No! Why?", you protested.

Matty leaned in close, his breath warm against your ear, sending shivers down your spine as he whispered "Because only good girls deserve to be fingered by Matty Healy."

"But..."

"And you aren't one", he gently pecked the skin of your neck again.

"I am", you moaned in response to his soft kisses.

"Don't think so. If you were, you'd do what I say"

"Please Matty stop teasing me now! I can't take it any longer"

"Hmm... seems like someone's being really needy...", he kept on playing with you, "will you be a good girl for me now?"

"Yes, Matty. Yes, I will", you answered impatiently.

"Then look at me.", he said as he carefully put his hand back between your legs and this time you were following his command, being the good girl he asked you to be, though it was definitely not easy for you to keep eye contact with him.

"Now you are being a good girl. I want you to keep looking at me, okay? Will you do that for me, darling?"

You nodded in response, "Hm... yes."

All of a sudden he pushed his middlefinger inside you, causing a loud moan from you.

"That's what you were thinking about when you watched me play guitar, isn't it?", he gently whispered in your ear.

"Maybe...", you admitted between your lusty moans.

"I knew it.", he smirked, "Couldn't quite believe it though..."

"Hmm..", you hummed as he continued his skillful work with his fingers, beaming you into another dimension of reality.

While listening to your ravishing moans he kept on talking, "My best friend is a dirty slut. Unbelievable. But I'd be lying if I said i didn't think about you every time I wanked.", he winked at you with a dirty smile, roughly jabbing another finger inside your dripping wet pussy.

"Matty, I... I think I...", you stammered, having difficulties to breathe.

"Yes baby, cum for me, please", he permitted, but you were already collapsing in heated pleasure as you eventually broke the eye contact, letting your head fall onto his chest, gasping for air.

With his free arm, he hugged you, pressing your body tightly to his own. He gave you some time to calm down while you were catching your breath, before he slowly pulled out his fingers, bringing them up to your mouth, so you could lick them clean. "If that was part of your phantasies too...then...", he shook his head with a radiant smile on his face while you seemingly enjoyed sucking your juice from his elegant guitar hands, "...like... who are you? And what have you done to my best friend?"

"Shut up, Healy!", you laughed after letting go of his fingers, "and cuddle me!"

You snuggled yourself into his loving embrace, but Matty had other plans....

"Nah... later, love.", he told you with hungry eyes, "I'm not done with you yet."

Part 2

#matty healy #matty healy x reader #matty healy fic #matty healy smut #matty the 1975 #the 1975 #the 1975 fanfic #fanfiction #fanfics #smut #the 1975 smut #matty x reader #matty healy fanfiction #imagine #matty healy imagine #guitar #guitar hands

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engie-ivy · 9 months ago

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@wolfstarmicrofic 8th: Arrow

797 words.

Warning: Injury

James is not going to sit there as Remus wakes up in the Hospital Wing and explain to him why Sirius isn't there. He can't.

Hold On

“No, no, no, no,” James lets himself fall to the ground next to the bundle lying on the muddy forest floor. “Pads? Padfoot, can you hear me?”

There's no response.

James places his arm behind Sirius’ neck and carefully lifts his head. His other hand he places in Sirius’ neck, searching for a pulse, which thank Godric, he finds, but weak, so weak. “Sirius? Sirius!”

Sirius’ eyes open and he seems aware of James’ presence as he tries to say something, but only a pained groan comes out, before his eyes fall shut again.

Panic rises in James’ chest as he scrambles for his wand, muttering what little Healing Spells he knows.

“I heard the younglings talk this morning.” Firenze looks down at James. “How they spotted a dark hound the size of an Erumpent roaming the forest, thinking it to be a dark creature, or even a Grimm, rumored to bring ill tidings. So they fired their arrows at the creature. When I came to investigate this morning, I found him.”

James can barely look at the wound, the gruesome sight of the arrow protruding from Sirius’ stomach. Though the arrow still being lodged in his stomach is probably the only reason Sirius hasn't bled out this night.

Sirius has opened his eyes again and his gaze shifts down, but James quickly places a hand on his cheek. “Just keep looking at me, Siri.” He desperately mutters a few more Healing Spells.

“An injury inflicted by Centaur-forged weapons cannot be healed as if it were a common Muggle arrow,” Firenze says disdainfully.

James looks up at him. “Can you help him?” He begs. “Please?"

“Will you retaliate?” Firenze asks cooly. “Our young ones learn to not harm wizarding children, even the ones foolish enough to wander into our forest, but we couldn't have anticipated one shaped like a Grimm. We know very well how vengeful wizards can be, how little regard you have for beings other than your own. Will your people take their vengeance on our herd, retaliate against our younglings?”

“Retali-” James shakes his head. “No. No, I don't care about blame, or retaliation. I just want him to live.” He looks up at Firenze pleadingly. “I need him to live. Please…”

“Moony…” Sirius manages to say.

“Moony is okay,” James says soothingly, brushing Sirius’ hair from his face. “The full moon has passed. He's in the castle, sleeping.”

“You change your appearance to run with the wolf of the lunar cycle,” Firenze states.

“He's our friend,” James simply says without taking his eyes off Sirius.

“Not many wizards would call a halfling between human and beast a friend,” Firenze muses.

“Well, he is,” James says shortly. If the centaur isn't going to help, he wishes he would be quiet, so James can think of something to save Sirius himself. There has to be something. There has to be.

“We have a Healer skilled in treating these kinds of wounds,” Firenze suddenly says. “I will bring him here. Try to keep him awake in the meantime,” he adds, resting his eyes on Sirius’ form. “I fear that if he slips away now, he won't make it back.”

“Padfoot, stay awake! You must stay with me, do you hear?”

As Firenze disappears between the trees, Sirius’ head slowly slides backwards.

“Hurts,” Sirius mumbles.

“I know, Pads, I know. But you have to hold on just a little longer, okay?”

Sirius’ breathing is getting slower.

“Sirius,” James begs. “Please, don't leave.”

Sirius just looks at him with empty eyes.

“Moony’s going to wake up in the Hospital Wing,” a sob escapes James. “Groggy and sore like he always is, and his eyes will immediately search yours. They always do, you know that. You're always the first person he sees, you're always where he finds comfort. You can't let me sit there, have Remus look at me questioningly, confused, and for me to have to tell him…” James’ voice breaks, and he shakely takes a breath in. “To have to tell him that you're… that you didn't… that I couldn't… You can't do that to me, Sirius!” He balls his fist and clutches Sirius’ robe. “And it happened during the full moon.” He squeezes his eyes shut, unable to stop the words spilling out of him. “He's going to blame himself. He's going to fall apart. He's going to fall apart, and I can't put him back together, not without you, Sirius! I need you there, for Moony. For Moony, okay?”

James meets Sirius’ eyes again, and something has changed. There's a determination there that wasn't there before. As they look at each other, something passes between them.

Sirius is going to stay awake.

He will try.

In the distance, James hears the sound of hooves approaching.

#wolfstar microfic #good friend james potter #protective james potter #hurt sirius black #wolfstar #wolfstar fanfiction #wolfstar fic #marauders #marauders fanfiction #marauders fic #sirius black #remus lupin #remus x sirius #james potter

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aritsukemo · 4 months ago

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Sick Day Chronicle | Illness Unease | Yuichiro Tokito

Summary: Sick days are the worst, but at least you get the pleasure of having your partner take time out of their otherwise busy schedule to take care of you! <3

Warnings: None.

A/N: Okay, I know I have a lot of request that I should be working on and I'm sorry to everyone who's requested something and has seen no result from me, but I actually have an excuse right now! ...That excuse being that my entire family, including me, is very, very sick. That being said, take this purely indulgent fic series that I may or may not complete in the meantime! :D

Day One: Yuichiro Tokito | Day Two: Shinobu Kocho | Day Three: Muichiro Tokito | Day Four: Tanjiro Kamado | Day Five: Aoi Kanzaki

"You should rest," The words were as funny to hear from you as they were frustrating. You're telling him to rest? You're telling him to rest when you're the one who needs it the most? When you're the one bedridden with a fever of nearly a hundred and two degrees?

"I'm fine," The words leave his lips in a soft hush—words which were once pointed, and yet lost it's edge as they slide against his tongue and out his mouth. That happens a lot when he speaks to you. Even when you're being the most annoying person ever, he just can't use that harsh tone he uses with everyone else..

Guess that's what love does to a person—especially one as madly in love as Yuichiro..

"You haven't slept since you found out I fell ill. At this rate, you'll pass out.." You remind, face scrunching up before immediately relaxing as a cool weight envelopes your forehead.

"You should worry about yourself," He says, but again, his words were as soft as the pillow you were laying your head on. He couldn't even muster that terrifyingly stern tone of his that Shinobu always scolds him for using with patients. That stern tone that—unlike his mentor-slash-boss, who's stern voice is doused in honeyed care and the warmth of a mother's concern—is nothing short of disgruntled and downright condescending, making whoever he's talking to want to bow their head to the ground and apologize for ever wasting his time by doing something as idiotic as getting themselves injured.

You're glad, ecstatic even to have such a privilege. After all, Yuichiro can be plenty ruthless when he wants to be and you've heard his scoldings are the absolute worst. To deal with that and all these symptoms you're forced to put up with would be torture..

"I am, but I'm also worried about you," You confess, "You're slowly running yourself into the ground. Everyone sees it, that's why Ms. Kocho and Aoi offered to take your usual duties off your hands today. They want you to rest."

Your words fall upon purposefully deafened ears and Yuichiro goes about stripping you of the towel that was keeping you somewhat cool despite just laying it across your forehead—swiftly going about the process of dunking it in the bucket of icy water next to your bed and wringing the excess water out of it.

He brings it to your head again, but this time, as he lays it across your skin, you reach up and grab his wrist. He resists, attempting to pull away only to fail miserably to which he huffs. Even weakened by sickness, you were still leagues stronger than him..damnit.

"Yuichiro, please listen to me," You said, sliding your hand down his wrist and then intertwining his cold hands with your warmer, damp ones and ignoring the way he grimaces a little at the feeling, "It's just a bad cold, nothing serious. I won't drop dead if you take some time to yourself."

Drop dead, a poor choice of words deeming what he's been through in the past. You quickly become aware of that fact and gently squeeze his hand as if to silently apologize for any damage you may have accidentally done. He squeezes your hand back, but the way he gazes down at you makes you unable to tell if he's accepted the apology or didn't even catch your slip of the tongue and was simply thinking of other things.

"I..just.." He hesitates, and that new swirl in his eyes tells it all. Like opening a book, you're able to see every word of doubt and fear whirling in those two sheets of minty hues before he's ever able to say them aloud. You wait anyway though, and he finally mutters out, "..I don't want that to happen again.."

Using the time he hesitated to think up a response, your quick to retort with, "And it won't. I'd never allow that to happen."

"You can't control an illness, Y/n," Finally you hear it. It's only there for a second and it's mixed with a heavy layer of desperation, but you heard it; that spurt of anger in his tone, "And if it isn't constantly watched and treated it can turn into something incurable and if that happens you'll—"

"That will never happen, Yuichiro—"

"You don't know that!" It's there again, but now it's ten times worse. His anger has meshed with anguish and turned to pure fury. It's odd for it to be directed at you. After all, anger this bad isn't even directed at his patients so for it to be directed at you, his lover, is a little scary, you'll admit..

"An illness is capable of anything and can bring even the strongest soldiers down! I've seen it happen more than once and if you don't shut up and let me tend to you, there's a possibility the same will happen to you and I can't allow that!" In his fit of rage, you notice the crystal lining of tears along his water line and seeing it felt as if an actual crystal was stabbed into your heart.

It wasn't often Yuichiro cried and he never let anyone besides you see him like that, not his even his twin brother. You can see why that may be. After all, the sight of his eyes full of tears makes him seem like some little kid no matter what emotion he shows with it. Seeing it makes you want nothing more than to pull him in your arms and protect him from the world—something your confident Yuichiro would hate with every fiber of his being..

"I- I can't allow that to happen..no matter what.." He whispers those words out to you and the cracks in the voice he tries to hide with an airy tone leaves it's own crack on your heart and causes it to ache. He sounds like a heartbroken poet...or maybe a kicked puppy would be more accurate.

"If I lost you I wouldn't know what to do..I-.. I'd—" And then you finally open your mouth to shush him, leaning over a little to grab his other hand as you do.

"Ssh, ssh.. Thinking stuff like that will only get you worked up unnecessarily," You try to mimic that pillowy tone he always talks to you in, adding a whisper to it to give your voice a more soothing effect as you roll your thumbs against the dorsal skin of his hands.

"It's really no need to overreact. With you working as hard as you have been these past few days, this cold of mine has barely been standing a chance. Plus, I know that as soon as Ms. Kocho has the time, she'll concoct something that'll have me bouncing right back up."

You tug at his hands suddenly and the unexpected change in weight cause him to tip over. Upon that happening, you immediately slither your arms around him and by the time his face hits your chest, he's completely caged against you—just like you wanted. After all, having him like this gives you the perfect opportunity to do something he hasn't allowed you to do in quite a while; play with his hair.

Your quick with undoing his ponytail and immediately take the leisure of running your hand through his hair—reveling in the way it changes from black to mint green and slips through your fingers with ease, "Like I said before, it'd take a lot more than this to take me out."

"I'm strong, Yuichiro. I can handle this. I've been in far more dire situations before, haven't I?" You repeat your action; starting at his scalp and slowly sliding your fingers through his pretty locks with a gentle smile stretched on your ablazed skin, "And for these past few days, I've had my amazing and skilled boyfriend tending to me without rest. I highly doubt that in the few hours he uses to rest, my cold will suddenly turn into something incurable like he says it will."

It must've finally dawned on him the position the two of you were in because he lifts his head and glares at you. His cheeks are dusted a cherry blossom pink and you giggle at the sight. He really did seem like a kid when he acted like this, but for the sake of your eardrums and emotional wellbeing, you decide not to voice that thought out loud.

"Dummy, you'll get me sick.." He grumbles, but still buries his face in the fabric of your patient uniform. Your grin widens further at both the sight and the feeling of the crack in your heart finally being mended by seeing him less distressed.

"Perfect! If you got sick, you'll have no choice but to rest and I'll get the opportunity to take care of you for once!" He huffs at your answer. Of course you'd say something like that..

It really was a stupid response though. To him, you take care of him all the time by making his heart flutter like the butterflies surrounding the estate and make his worries wash away like you did just now, leaving him to feel nothing but this light, warm feeling that he's slowly growing addicted to. You merely tending to him while he's sick pales in comparison to that.

Dividers were made by me, pictures used are from Pinterest, post formatting is inspired by @xxsabitoxx

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stardustgates · 11 months ago

Text

Author’s Notes: Possibly OOC behaviour? I’ve done my best to stick by Canon as much as I can, but given I’m a newer player, I don’t know the relationship between Kafka and Silver Wolf or the characters individually as well I’d like to. Though I did do my best, please be aware that I may have taken some creative liberties in their characterisation and inner thoughts regarding each other. Also I am aware that this may just be 5.5k words of nonsensical BS but I haven’t written proper fanfiction in a hot minute so take it with a grain of salt. Not so much of a reader/canon thing and more like a reader AND canon thing currently. Perhaps that will change in future works, who’s to say? Oh yeah this is a SAGAU.

Warnings: Canonical In-game violence, references and descriptions of dissociation via player-induced body possession, references to drug use (one sentence), yandere tones if you squint really hard (shes a slowburner ya’ll), and a single swear word :3

Beyond the mind, within your body.

Description: Unaware that your presence has been made apparent to the eccentric duo during your first run through of Honkai Star Rail, you happily indulge yourself in the immersive (tutorial) world before your eyes. Kafka and Silver Wolf attempt to adjust to the feeling it brings, which leaves their minds constantly switching between distrust and euphoria, and all the things in between.

Word Count: 5.5k

Hoyoverse’s newest game hadn’t seemed much to your liking when you’d first heard the announcement. For one thing, you weren’t particularly pleased with the constant stream of ‘HONKAI STAR RAIL - PLAY NOW’ interrupting your YouTube doom-scrolling every other ad; Not to mention, you weren’t very keen on the gacha aspect.

Within your small circle of friends, you’d been known to cave easily when attractive anime characters were involved and you weren’t planning on another hyperfiction to solidify your position as the group’s resident simp. That being said, with such a title swaying above your head like a shiny silver dagger, you’d held a metaphorical death grip on your wallet, solemnly swearing that you’d keep your distance from the game for as long you were able.

Ultimately that so-called iron will of yours didn’t last so much as a year, as just seven months after its release a simple character trailer was enough to break your steadfast resilience. Well, it wasn’t ‘simple’, if you were being honest with yourself- It was a brilliantly unique masterpiece, tailored to the exact essence and spirit of his character. You were sure Argenti wouldn’t be released for a good while, so you decided to pick up the game and grind what you could before his arrival.

That was your plan at least. Your friend had warned you a few months prior (Though admittedly, you hadn’t been paying much attention at the time.) that the download and installation would take an exhaustingly long time. Well, it was better than Genshin Impact had been- but still, you were getting bored and subsequently decided to fetch yourself something to drink in the meantime.

With your back turned to the loading screen, you waltzed out of your bedroom with little care in the world- oblivious to the ominous glowing cracks slowly sprawling across the screen of your device.

As you returned a few moments later, you found that it had finally finished installing! You’d certainly waited long enough. Sure, it wasn’t as soul-sucking as Genshin had been but your patience wasn't that of a saint’s either. With a renewed sense of anticipation, you hit start and breezed through the usual terms and conditions without reading anything and let out a sigh at the beautiful change in scenery.

It perhaps wasn't the smartest idea to skip it completely- but you had spent so long waiting already that you weren’t going to bother wasting time reading a document filled with dolled-up words you could barely pronounce.

✄————————————————

Herta’s Space Station’s defences hadn't been particularly difficult to slip past surprisingly, though Kafka didn’t recall any mention of difficulty regarding entry in Elio’s script, so she supposed the lack of security wasn’t of any particular importance.

Despite the calm confidence that usually accompanied her on these little operations, Kafka couldn’t shake the strange feeling of being watched. It wasn’t the usual sort of lingering gaze or sharpened stare, but a vague pulsating heartbeat that faded in and out, as though blinking through blurry vision.

Needless to say, she kept her guard up. Playing none the wiser and bowing mid-air to the tempo of a rather graceful tune. She forced her shoulders to relax and gently swayed her body, controlling her every little move with practised ease- even as that strange pulsating presence slowly sped up and stroked the fires of an oncoming headache- as the elevator descended to the station’s ‘ground’ floor.

(You remained none the wiser to her sudden awareness, the rapidly changing scenes flashing past your eyes far too quickly to pick up on a single, brief second of stillness in her body.)

A sudden explosion reverberates across the station's cold, metallic body and brings Kafka’s impromptu air-violin session to a screeching halt. Simultaneously, that presence settles over her body like a thick blanket of fog. That ‘gaze’ she had felt becoming so vivid she could feel its weight pressing down on her tongue.

She has little time to process the feeling before the usual blueish glow of Silver Wolf’s communications screen flickers into existence before her very eyes.

“... Seems I came at a bad time.”

“No, No – I think you couldn’t’ve timed it better. Twenty-three-fourty-seven-fifteen system time. Very punctual, Kafka.” Silver Wolf almost sounds impressed, though Kafka suspects she’s only trying to butter her up so she’ll let the girl go off task again. Perhaps, under different circumstances, she would have been kind enough to allow it, but with the nature of their current mission and this inexplicable presence, Kafka doesn't find herself in a very generous mood.

Kafka merely hums in response and ignores the empty praise.

“Elio always tells the exact future. So What’s with the explosion just now? Was that part of his script?” Silver Wolf picks up on her cue to focus without any fuss.

“Twenty-three-four-four-fifty-nine system time: The pulses from the explosion cause a massive breakdown from the master control system.”

Pulses. Perhaps it’s linked to the feeling curling itself around her senses?

“You did that?” Kafka doubts that Silver Wolf would waste effort on something so minor.

“No, the antimatter legion did it. They completely invaded the space station two system hours ago.” She whistles in response and glances down the glass panelling to the approaching ground floor. A small group… annoying, but manageable.

“Alright, so do we need to fight the legion?”

“Dunno, Elio didn’t say anything about it, so it doesn’t matter.” Hmm. Silver Wolf made a good point.

“Got it. So from now on, I'll be in charge of this operation.” She feels that tingle of a smirk reach the corner of her mouth, and smiles a little wider in anticipation.

“Copy. Can you let me have some fun this time? Our last few operations turned out to be pretty dull.” Kafka lets out a playful hum as she ponders over her colleague’s request with faux consideration. She can practically hear Silver Wolf’s stifled groan in the second of silence that passes.

“...Sorry~ I’m afraid there’s not much I can do for you- our task this time is just to ‘place’ the target properly.”

Her choice of words is careful, though not enough to cause any alert in potential eavesdroppers. The feeling still hasn’t left.

“But if you wanna go look for some fun yourself, I won’t stop you.”

“I mean… after all…” she chuckles lightly as the blue hologram blips out of her vision, and reaches for the holsters tucked into her lower back. “After all…” Kafka readjusts her footing just in time to watch the elevator’s doors slide open, the sound of metal dragging against metal pinching at her ears.

“Elio didn’t put it in the script… Why would it matter?”

Just as the impact from her gunshots flitters across her skin, Kafka feels her mind being pulled back to the edge of her skull.

The group of voidrangers in front of her feel distant and smudged, the sockets of her eyes creating a blurred tunnel of vision that refuse adjust no matter how much she tries to blink it away. Their dark forms bleed into black speckles that crowd her already limited vision until she’s staring directly into the singed edges of the universe.

Kafka’s body… is no longer hers to command.

✄————————————————

She returns to her mind with startling swiftness. Her memories of the brief battle suddenly bubbling up as though pushing themselves through a thick soup of aether. She feels disconnected from the memory but can at least recall that she’d lost control of her body before blacking out.

She attempts to think back on that burnt, golden memory but is stopped by a sudden wave of nausea. She opts to set that aside for another time and refocus on the operation. Elio had not mentioned this happening anywhere in the script- so either this had no significance or…

Still, those Voidrangers hadn’t proved to be much trouble- in fact, they’d been less of an annoyance than she had prepared for. Either she’d been far more ruthless than intended or the antimatter legion had lost its touch.

“When did the anti-matter legion become so weak?” She asks out loud.

“I could only attract this much. Did you really want the entire legion to come here?” Silver Wolf speaks in feigned annoyance, her usual behaviour.

She hadn’t even realised. Kafka chooses not to mention anything for the moment, instead opting to subtly gauge the extent of control this presence… or rather... Entity, seems to have over her.

“This lot won’t be able to slow down the Astral Express crew.” Silver Wolf sighs in response on the other end of the device.

“Relax, a doomsday beast is also here.”

As she approaches one of the station’s automatic doors, Kafka feels it slip back into her body as if wearing her like a coat. Its influence feels… less heavy than it previously had been a few moments ago. At the very least she remains conscious this time; A strange lightness in her feet as she feels herself stealth towards a lone voidranger lounging about the area.

Her movements come to her now like instinct, striking down enemies with admittedly far more efficiency than she was naturally capable of. If it weren’t for her body being strung along like a puppet against her will, she’d almost be grateful for the power and resiliency it granted her.

Kafka has barely had her fill before a euphoric sense of power seems to swell up all at once; Killer instinct pumping through her veins like a well-oiled machine.

Ahh. Now this… this particular feeling wasn’t so bad.

Truthfully she’d liked to have toyed with this one a bit longer, but she knew all too well that it wouldn't manage to survive her next attack. She chatters to no one in particular, the ecstasy in her mind clouding whatever decorum she would have usually displayed.

“Good times never last… time to say bye.”

“Ah- She’s so cool…”

Kafka tenses up at the stranger’s voice, just as the swirling dark mass in front of her collapses into itself.

She sheathes her sword and adjusts her gloves, ignoring the voidranger approaching her from behind. Just before its darkened claws reach her, Silver Wolf’s ability activates no more than a hands-width from her shoulder blades.

“Cleaning up other people’s mess isn’t in my job description… y’know Kafka?” Silver Wolf huffs out, but her voice has no real bite in it. Was it her? She wasn’t usually one to doubt herself, but that fog of exhilaration certainly could have played with her mind.

“Yeah, yeah. Where did you send it Silver Wolf?”

Kafka turns in time to hear the gooey pop of the silver-haired girl’s bubblegum as she hops to her feet. She isn’t sure if it's Strawberry or Grape, but the artificial sweetness and scent of no-fruit-in-particular is so strong it actually grounds her mind for a moment.

She sighs for no real reason, but it brings her relief regardless.

Oh.

She hadn’t realised how bad her headache was.

“Some random Co-ordinates, not important.” She avoids Kafka’s gaze for a reason she couldn’t care to name before taking on an adorably defiant stance, her hands placed at her hips as though it would help her short stature in any way.

“You care about where that voidranger ended up?” She doesn’t. But she’d rather think about that than, well… She didn’t know what to call it at this point. But it was distracting and she needed to focus on literally anything else for the sake of what sanity she had left.

Though some could argue that she wasn’t sane at all- which was only half true because most people’s definition of sanity varied greatly from her own.

Oh, Silver Wolf was still blinking up at her expectantly.

“Of course not- I’m just amazed at this fancy technique of yours, as usual.” she smiles down at her colleague, who only rolls her eyes in response. To the girl’s credit, she’d been dealing with Kafka’s empty flattery for quite a long time.

“Just a little trick of tampering with the data of reality, I wouldn't call it fancy.” Kafka smiles a little wider, following behind as Silver Wolf strolls down the hallway. Her tells were always so obvious.

“What were you looking at just now? Let me see.” Silver Wolf huffs a bit as she settles herself onto a desk and faces her.

“Herta’s toys,” she begins in an almost mocking tone

“A catalogue featuring the space station’s collection of rare items.” Her fingers briefly tug on the white fluff of her jacket as she speaks “They’ve got quite a looot of interesting gadgets~”

Kafka’s previous interest (however feigned it may have been) dies down a little at the prospect of these ‘gadgets’ but nonetheless she indulges Silver Wolf’s unspoken desire to share what information she’d dug up.

“Like what?”

“There’s this gun, it can rate any creature within its crosshair as a score from 0 to 100.”

“... Doesn't sound very interesting.” Her brows pinch together and her mouth stretches into a thin line of clear disappointment. Not one to be disheartened so easily, Silver Wolf continues on

“Aren’t you curious how much you would score? I kinda wanna know mine.”

So this is what she’d been hinting at since earlier. Kafka crosses her arms and takes on the tone of an exasperated mother having finally given up after being nagged at for far, far longer than the reality of it.

“Fine. I guess we can swing by and play with it, if it’s not too far. What’s our destination?” She redirects Silver Wolf’s distractable attention onto their current objective with practised ease.

Hmm.

She feels a little cold for some reason… and those watchful eyes haven't left during the entirety of their conversation. Kafka’s guard raises a little further than before.

Her colleague’s eyes flit down to a small blue hologram, her fingers swiping past various screens until arriving at what Kafka could only presume was a list of directions given to her by Elio.

“Go down the corridor, behind the door… ooon the left. There’s a room where some kind of rare item is stored.”

Kafka feels the entity strongly now, she stares just beyond Silver Wolf’s shoulders where it feels most concentrated. The feeling she is met with is a dense smouldering hotness. It’s like melting iron dripping down her throat and burning it in the process. It feels almost itchy.

She redirects her gaze back to Silver Wolf far quicker than she’d intended to and resists the urge to scratch at her throat.

“So that’s where the Stellaron is?” Kafka is somewhat relieved when the feeling seems to simmer down. She once again debates speaking on the sensation during the slightest lull in their conversation but when Silverwolf turns her head back to face her, she finds the girl’s gaze to be much sharper than before.

“That's where we can find out where the Stellaron is.”

Kafka immediately knows that Silverwolf has finally caught on to this feeling and says nothing as she readies herself for the next half of their mission. Almost instantly, she feels the presence shift and roll over her shoulders, like a cat stretching out its limbs.

It's languid and smooth and she feels her tense- She had been tense this whole time?- muscles slowly relax until she finally feels that usual calm focus she’s so intimately familiar with. She hadn’t realised the extent of how cold she’d felt when it had stepped- strange, it feels like a person?- away.

Kafka decides that her feelings towards this... Being- She isn’t totally sure if it feels sapient, but it certainly has some form of will… That much she can tell- are mixed, to say the least. She wonders one more why Elio hadn’t mentioned anything about something so foreign and strange but sets the thought aside and refocuses on the task at hand.

She locks eyes with Silverwolf briefly, and just as she thought, Silverwolf is most definitely aware of it at this point.

“The central area of the space station is up ahead. There’ll be loads of Legion Void rangers there.” Silver Wolf hops to her feet and saunters toward the door’s control panel. A bit too casual to be natural, but it doesn't cause the feeling to stir, so she says nothing.

“Okay.” Kafka breathes out.

Then that feeling of puppeteering seems to stitch itself into her mind once more, albeit in a much more faded sense- it feels more like muscle memory than it does being pulled from her own body. She allows it to pull her along and lead her toward whatever it wants. As her fingers glide over the room’s control panels and her heels click against the cold steel of the station, she feels that fog of exhilaration settle over her again- that almost euphoric surge of strength from earlier suddenly vivid and fresh in her mind.

Silverwolf seems to feel the building strength in her own body too, as she quickens her pace when they turn the corner to find themselves at the back of a particularly strong-looking voidranger. She huffs out in bemusement and half-heartedly mutters out some encouragement to her colleague.

“May as well kill them all.”

Not needing much more encouragement than that, Silverwolf leaps forward with as much grace as her short form can allow her and drags her digitally enhanced blade across the muscles and sinew of its chest. She leaps back beside Kafka as it staggers on its feet and tries to regain its footing. Kafka’s arm pulls itself up, gun in hand, and fires out a cascade of bullets that each burrow and pierce into its flesh.

“This… seems a lot easier than it should be.” Silverwolf comments under her breath quietly.

“Well, let’s count our blessings–” Kafka is cut off as her arm is singed by the blast of the voidranger’s fire canon.

“Tch. Didn’t hurt.”

Silverwolf pulls out her holographic system at such speed that Kafka feels the static waft across her skin.

“Hmph, still. This combat needs optimising.” Just as the creature aims its weapon once more, it’s hit with a blast pulled from the loosened strands of reality itself.

“At that speed? Too slow!”

Kafka almost feels sorry for it, as she watches its body disintegrate while collapsing into itself.

Unfortunately, the girls are not left with time to bask in their victory- Silver Wolf lets out a small yelp- the entity has left its place on Kafka’s shoulders and draped itself over her companion it would seem. Her short colleague adjusts to the sensation of its guiding hand far better than she had, if her losing conscious was anything to go by.

Kafka follows behind silently, eyes trained intently on the girl in front of her for any indication of danger.

“Hold it. Someone.. Or something is up ahead.” she warns quietly, arm extended out to her side like a makeshift barrier. They both come to a sudden halt as the entity violently rips itself from their bodies and settles just beyond their skin.

Goosebumps this time.

The cold seems to get worse and worse each time it separates from them… well, her. Silver Wolf grits her teeth. Kafka notes the tiny pearl of sweat rolling down the side of her face. Still a shock to the system then.

“Looks like we’re the ones getting ambushed.”

“...But they’re the ones getting besieged.”

✄————————————————

The game has felt pretty cool so far, and you quite like this Kafka woman. You don’t recall her being part of the main cast your friend had rambled about however many months ago it was, but you hoped you’d get to see a lot more of her.

Her design was really nice- though strangely familiar?- and her voice was pretty too! Silver Wolf was alright, but she hadn’t really caught your interest so far, so you werent sure what to make of her yet.

They did seem to be close though, but less like friends and more like tired workmates who’d been stuck in the same dead end job for a decade- that is to say, it definitely felt like they were used to dealing with each other’s nonsense.

Were they a ship? You could see it. Ah, another battle, sweet!

The combat system Star Rail used wasnt particularly innovative or anything, but it’s playstyle was strangely addictive- especially the Ult animations! Kafka’s especially had you nearly squealing with how badass it was. Did the MC have a cool one too? You could hardly wait to see.

✄————————————————

The mood is light despite the circumstances, they both feel a sense of safety and confidence while the presence pulls them along, as though leading them in a dance. The Voidranger’s movements stand out like a pindrop in an empty room. Predictable, and delectably so.

Silver Wolf barks out a short, quick laugh- a taunting thing that aggravates the musclehead stomping around in front of her- before decapitating the creature in a single, swift move.

“You took the bait, just like that?” Her jubilance is cut short by an attack from her blindspot, it isnt fatal- hell it barely counts as a battle wound- but its enough to flip her mood in the opposite direction. “Tch.”

Kafka laughs lightly at her, amused with her momentary lapse in spacial awareness. Silver Wolf scoffs and scowls lightly at her. Really, like she hadn’t gotten hit before?

Just as she opens her mouth to hurl a barely-an-insult-but-im-still-annoyed-with-you comment towards the magenta haired woman next to her, Kafka’s aura shifts somewhat. Time seems to slow down for a second as Silver Wolf watches the woman’s pupils dilate in slow motion.

Had she appeared like this? When that wave of energy had swelled within her?

She receives no answer to her unvoiced question, and instead hears Kafka’s voice ring through out her ears.

“That breathing sensation. Remember it.” Silver Wolf gulps in a breath of blood-scented air and breathes out a sickly, golden-sweet taste. As Kafka’s bullets rain down upon the bodies of their would-be-ambushers she can't help but feel pure ecstasy in the moment. Truly…if this was a drug she’d be hooked like a fish to water.

Even just being near it is enough to cloud her mind.

“Alright, now that that’s over with…” Silver Wolf’s body relaxes significantly as Kafka speaks, the strength of whatever had possessed them slowing dripping out from their bodies like tree sap. She feels like she just got a massage.

“I could get used to that.” She isn’t sure who she’s talking to, but it feels appropriate to voice. Kafka ignores her and spins her around to face the door, and Silver Wolf seems to go into auto pilot as she unlocks the control panel blocking their path, stepping lightly as her taller colleague gently pushes her forward without a word.

The monitoring room is completley empty. Nothing but the quiet beeping of a few monitors and the rustling of swaying leaves, courtesy of the air conditioning unit humming softly above them.

“Huh. not a single soul here. Impressive evacuation work. Did herta organise it herself?” Kafka seems mildly impressed- and entirely unaffected by the sensation Silver Wolf is still trying to shake from her skin.

“According to the access history, she hasnt logged in her for over six months. The evacuation was directed by the acting lead researcher - a girl named Asta.”

“Doesn’t ring a bell. Oh, right. Elio said we wouldn’t run into herta. It seems she really isnt here.” Though something else definitely was, but Silver Wolf supposed they weren’t going to be making any conversation on that topic.

She sighs, and scrolls through her holograms nonchalantly.

“Elio’s Script doesnt include any info about the location of the stellaron. Which means in the future he foresees…”

“... we would find the stellaron in a non-physical way?” Kafka crosses her arms, easily having picked up on her train of thought and already dipping her metaphorical toes into several different plans of action. She was always efficient like that. Silver Wolf strolls over to the water cooler and pours herself a cold cup. She gestures to Kafka who only shakes her head in response.

“This space station is packed with extraordinary objects, I wouldnt be surprised if theres one that can make it happen.” She takes a long sip, the cooling sensation bringing relief to her sweltering body. The combat efficiency was nice, but she was left feeling like an overheating graphics disk everytime it took control of her. She idles on a page in her hologram briefly before continuing on her scroll-fest.

“Hiding something extraordinary with something extraordinary… this is pretty Herta. I assume you know what to do? I mean, You’ve been reading that cataogue for a while?” Ah. Perseptive as ever, Kafka never changes. She ignores the heat building in her ears at the prospect of being caught slacking-off, and bins the styrofoam cup as she turns to the older woman.

“Hmph. I’ve got all the clues we need. The only piece missing is a simple trick- maybe this entity thats been stringing us along could lend a hand? After all, it doesnt have a physical form.”

(You didn’t expect them to involve the player like this! What an awesome storytelling device, and it would hopefully grant a lot more player agency too! Hoyoverse had truly out done themselves this time. Feeling a surge of excitement at being learning you’ll be able to lend a helping hand ‘directly’, you decide that Silver Wolf is also really cool.)

Kafka says nothing in response, only staring down at Silver Wolf in consideration.

“Why dont we have it help us investigate the terminals around here, that item we’re looking for may be inside.” The magenta haired woman only sighs, internally cursing the girl’s lack of caution. Though… she couldnt deny that it had only been helping them so far.

“Alright, lets give it the spotlight.”

“Oh god, I hope I don’t fuck this up…” Kafka stills. The same voice from before. So it can speak? She tucks the information away in her mind for later.

She watches it guide her along the messily arranged desks and flickering monitors. Stopping at a memory storage cart- which is, of course, missing its memory. Not useful for her current objective, but it at least told her that whatever it was could see the same things she could.

“...I cant see the memory storage for this terminal.” Her body shifts slightly.

“This is the monitoring room, the must have deleted the records and made a run for it. Classic.” Silver Wolf is still scrolling through the holographic catalogue, idling against a desk in the middle of the room. She doesn’t look up, even as Kafka is strung along past her towards a monitor on the other side of the room.

“You don’t seem to be very affected by it? Its control over you, I mean.”

“And you? You seemed a little weary earlier.”

“I wouldn’t say that. It’s just new, thats all.”

Kafka’s hand reaches out to flick through various active surveillance cameras, interesting but ultimately fruitless.

“Hmmm… I can see the whole space station on the surveillance screen. But not the Stellaron.” Silver Wolf scoffs indignantly behind her, she almost sounds offended.

“Even if you could it’d be a trap. Herta doesn’t display her collections.” She turns to her hologram once more.

“This thing isnt very good with investigating, is it?”

Kafka expects some form of insulted rage to squeak in her mind’s ear, but she hears nothing. Though faintly she imagines a rather adorable ‘Hey! I’m trying my best!’ echoing in her skull.

Kafka staves off the sudden urge to get defensive in response and clamps her mouth shut.

Silver Wolf sighs at her lack of response and shifts onto her feet.

“Make your way over here then. There’s no point in trying to search like this.”

“So? Got a master plan? I’m all ears.”

Kafka’s tone takes on a slightly irritated edge, for a reason she herself doesn’t quite understand. If Silver Wolf picked up on it, she chooses not to say anything and instead gestures to the warping static of the holographic screens lining the walls of the office.

“Its a matter of hacking the surveillance system directly.” She says matter-of-factly, smirking playfully as her iconic vandalism plasters itself onto every screen in sight.

“Aha, I see. Herta’s collections aren’t in the system so anything unaffected should be our target.”

Their heads are guided to turn and face the back of a lone monitor by the main desk. Ah. that one then. As they both stroll over to investigate, Kafka feels a strange sense of pride bubble in the back of her mind. Not for Silver Wolf’s accomplishment- that much would be expected from the shorter girl- but for the entity curling along the edge of her mind. What exactly she was supposed to be proud of she couldnt tell, but the feeling was pleasant regardless.

Silver Wolf slips into a chair and slides forward to the desk, cracking her knuckles and wiggling her fingers as she readies herself for some data mining.

“Crude, simple, but effective. Look, found it.” The computer’s cursor circles a line of code tauntingly. Kafka doesn’t understand what any of the values mean.

“Item number two-eleven, ‘Blind Spot’ : a simple light-deflecting field. It allows an object in its field to pass unnoticed, but if a different item ceases to be obvious, the object gets revealed.”

She isn’t sure which set of numbers.. Or letters? That item is supposed be, but it does seem like a very… uncomplicated form of security for someone like Herta.

“So, Herta the genius… hides her collection with something as simple as this?”

“the simplest method is the hardest to spot, isnt that our motto?”

“Huh? How is that simple?” Kafka nearly chokes on her saliva while trying to hold back a bark of laughter and wonders why she’d kept her guard up for this thing. She follows Silver Wolf towards the glitching hole in the wall and sighs bemusedly.

“The data suggests its just an ordinary hologram. But it has an added layer… “ Silver Wolf eyes the frayed edges of the hologram cautiously, despite the confidence in her voice.

“Lets take a look. Dont worry, this place wont be our grave.” The girl only puffs her cheeks and steps forward, ignoring Kafka’s words of comfort completely. Well, she’d expected that much at least.

As she follows behind, her vision melts into a stark change of scenery.

The bright, ethereal glow of the Stellaron coating the walls of the closed off room in a golden-blue light. A strange combination, but one that was all too familiar; the everchanging strands of reality warping and stretching around itself, as the Stellaron sat patiently- sealed away- in the center of the room. Such an otherworldly treasure was exactly what all Stellaron hunters across the universe strove for. Though admittedly it was a mere front for their true purpose, a fact that Kafka was intimately aware of.

Their true goal would see this stellaron- sealed away, courtesy of Herta- to another use. Once said seal was removed by Silver Wolf, all Kafka would need to do was take hold of it and place it inside that vessel.

It had been laying in wait for this exact occasion…Kafka smiles fondly at the memory of it. Silver Wolf makes a small noise of surprise, catching her attention. She steps over towards the girl and the control panel, asking a question without speaking.

“It has its own security system… I guess even for herta, a Stellaron is no ordinary rarity.” Silver Wolf sounds genuinely surprised at this fact, though Kafka feels this was a rather likely outcome.

“Can you get it?”

“Of course, even the genius Herta cant compete with me when it comes to hacking.”

“Good. Then I’ll also count on you for the preparation of the receptacle.” Not to mention, she was quite sure this being wouldn’t be able to provide much help if Silver Wolf couldn’t figure it out herself. Speak of the devil, she feels the entity waft away like smoke in the wind and settle in the air around them as she lifts the Stellaron from its prison. She turns to her Silver haired companion and unspoken words flicker between their eyes.

This is Kafka’s decision.

Or perhaps it isn’t, she corrects herself over the distant sound of Silver Wolf’s voice.

When it enters her body, it no longer feels like being puppeteered or controlled.

She recalls that first feeling of possession, and the bleeding darkness making way for glowing golden edges of a burnt milky way. Her mind is dipped like an apple into the thick syruppy taste of synethesia. The amber eyes of the vessel- piercing into her soul and leaving her tongue sizzling in an almost addictive sort of pain- briefly flash open before collapsing to the floor in Kafka’s arms.

The Stellaron has found its place. And something else entirely has made its home there too.

(What an amazing tutorial and intro! You get the feeling you’ll be playing this game for a very long while!)

#not super happy with how this turned out honestly but I can’t be bothered looking at it anymore #honkai star rail x reader #yandere honkai star rail #(sort of?)#hsr kafka #kafka x reader #silver wolf x reader #hsr silver wolf #kafka honkai star rail #silver wolf honkai star rail #hsr fanfic #yandere hsr #my writing

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teecupangel · 1 year ago

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pops in here bc I’ve been writing Resident Evil crossover AUs for fun (and angst) and I have a fun little idea for you!

so, re4make has dropped some interesting and tasty lore about Los Illuminados, aka the parasite cult that makes up the main bad guys in this particular game. according to the new lore, they popped up in 1554 and were exiled from their old place in 1741. now, we know that mutations and parasites and viruses can possibly extend somebody’s life in REverse beyond their natural lifespan and also make them far more durable than humans. I was thinking—Edward Kenway gets killed in 1735. this we’re well aware of. but what if he wasn’t?

say that Birch is aware of Los Iluminados and their work. he wants to keep a closer eye on them since he hears a lot about Las Plagas and its hive mind abilities, but he’s not about to risk becoming a part of their hive mind—he doesn’t entirely trust this cult. and he has a pesky Assassin who’s just found out that he’s actually a Templar, and who has a book and a son he would defend. if he survives the night—and it’s damn near a guarantee that he would, Birch has heard that he once cleared a whole deck of a galleon on his own—there’s nothing stopping him from taking up his sword and beelining to Birch and just cutting down every last member of the British Rite. but he can’t do that, if he has a bug inside his head.

so Edward gets knocked unconscious, and dragged off to the cult. now Birch has a reason to keep an eye on the cult, and he’s taken Edward out of the picture with no one the wiser for it.

years later—hundreds of years later—Desmond Miles, 17yo runaway, gets kidnapped along with Ashley Graham for whatever reason. maybe he saw too much and immediately launched himself at Krauser and actually managed to acquit himself pretty well in a fight, only to get stuffed into a van along with a very terrified First Daughter. Leon goes to find them.

in the meantime, Saddler has a very fucked-up Edward stand guard, and Desmond starts to talk to this guy, bc something about him seems…not quite the same as the rest of the cult. there’s some core of humanity still holding stubbornly on inside him, even if he looks pretty bad off, if not heavily mutated by now. which is how Leon ends up finding both Ashley and Desmond having managed to get a very snarly pirate to help break them out and has to gently convince said pirate that yes he really is here to help them please put that pitchfork down sir.

Oooohhh, if you wanted to, you can even include one of Ezio’s or Aquilar’s descendants in the lore as well, maybe even both? 1554 is around the time Flavia and Marcello would be 20~21 years old. Old enough to be Assassins that would be sent to foreign lands to help other Brotherhoods. We can even have them be sent by the current mentor of the Spanish Brotherhood because of this cult that supposed worship something ‘strange’. The mentor thought that the Italian Brotherhood who had a mentor who had been quite verse in strange things would have an idea of what they’re dealing with. Flavia or Marcello (or both if you want) asks to be sent because it seems connected to the precursors and, as Ezio Auditore’s children, it’s their duty to continue their father’s legacy.

They meet up with Aquilar’s child (or grandchild maybe?) and they help in exiling Los Illuminados, making the cult hate them and the Brotherhood in the process.

It’s because of their hatred for the Brotherhood that Birch was able to have a distant alliance with them and it’s because of his connection with the cult that Edward starts to suspect him as being a Templar.

(To sprinkle more angst, how about Haytham saw his father being dragged away and tried to save him, killing one of the kidnappers which ends with Teresa seeing him as a cold blooded killer and he is indoctrinated by Birch as a way to try and find Edward but never found him. After learning Birch was the leader of his father’s kidnapping, he gives up on Edward because Birch burned all evidence that will link him to Edward and the Los Illuminados)

Okay, so we go to the Ashley and Desmond part of the story.

Ashley is around 20 years old when she was abducted so, if you’d like, she could be in New York to shop or something when she was kidnapped. Desmond was on his way to his first shift in Bad Weather and saw a woman struggling while being dragged into a car with men looking like professional bodyguards (suit, sunglasses, wired ear pieces) on the ground, unconscious maybe? Dead even?

Desmond didn’t have time to think, his body reacted and he punched one of them. He starts to fight them off while telling the girl to run and the girl tried to, screaming for help but there were more men than they expected but her screaming (and his battle cries, they were not screams, they were battle cries damn it) was attracting attention so they had to book it quickly and Desmond was swept alongside the girl in the process.

Leon is briefed that an unknown man with no past of his own may be with the president’s daughter and he’s a low priority. The most that Leon is expected to do is find out who he was and if he was truly just taken alongside the Ashley because he tried to be a good Samaritan.

Now Saddler though…

Saddler had planned to kill Desmond from the very beginning but then he noticed something peculiar.

Desmond looked familiar.

So he let Desmond live because he needs to find out why Desmond looks familiar at all. He orders Edward to guard them and to keep them there.

Leon starts doing his job and Saddler gets sidetracked.

When he heard that Edward had ‘betrayed’ them, he realized why Desmond looked so familiar.

In one of the oldest journals written by his ancestors, there were sketches of the three Assassins who led to their fall and exile.

And two of them…

… looked very similar to Desmond Miles.

So now, Saddler believes Desmond is a descendant of those who exiled them and wants to infect him as well.

Because what better revenge is there than to have a descendant of those who wronged them become their ‘property’?

Unorganized Notes:

I like to imagine Ashley and Desmond become friends immediately, with Desmond helping Ashley stay calm while Ashley gives Desmond something he wanted ever since he was a child, a close friend.

Ashley would definitely not leave without Desmond and Desmond would do everything he can to keep Ashley safe.

Edward ‘recognize’ Desmond, in a way that Desmond reminds him of his young son, but he doesn’t understand it, because the infection inside him mutated thanks to his ‘bloodline’, so he’s not exactly the same as the others.

Edward will be conflicted though because his infection would make him want to obey the cult but he can't hurt Desmond at all. He doesn't want to and his body will never allow it.

Is it his own free will? The reminder of a past long gone? Or...

The Calculations at work?

#okay so I haven’t played the re4 remake yet #because that collector’s ed was too expensive for me lol #but I did play the og re4 decades ago #so if this feels like it has og re4 vibes #that’s probably it #assassin's creed #desmond miles #edward kenway #resident evil #ashley graham #leon kennedy #fic idea: assassin's creed #teecup writes/has a plot #ask and answer #fic idea: crossover #fic idea: resident evil

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 2 years ago

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Drawn Together 4

Warnings: non/dubcon, obsession, intimidation, and other dark elements.

Character: Steve Rogers

Summary: You get a tattoo on an impulse to break your routine, but you walk away with something else as permanent as the ink.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

A current of anxiety ripples around you. Since that day Steve came to your home. That day you foolishly let him inside. A tension made worse by your avoidance.

You haven’t called him. You’ve thought of it. You even thought of emailing but that was just as intimidating. You just don’t want to ever deal with him again. So you’ll say nothing and hope he takes the hint.

That also means you need a new student to take his spot. In the meantime, you can make due with the reduced income. You’re always smart about finances. As mindful and scrutinous as every other aspect in your life.

A whole week goes by. You feel the dread whittling away little by little. It feels like any other day as you wait for Caroline to drop off Freddy for his lesson. Despite being prone to distraction, he’s one of your most naturally gifted students. You enjoy those days when he manages to sit still. It’s worth the extra bit of patience you need to get him to focus.

You put a new bouquet of carnations in the window. The scent adds another layer of warmth to the sun streaming between the open curtains. It takes you back to the summers you spent there with your grandfather and his antique radio. It makes you miss him even more.

The doorbell chimes and your skirt billows around your legs as you descend. Teaching helps keep your mind off the shadow that follows you around. Another ghost that haunts these walls and your dreams. Just last night, you woke at nocturnal vision of his tattooed hands reaching for you.

No. It’s fine. It’s fine. He has no reason to return.

“Carol–”

You open the door and your voice lumps in your throat. It isn’t Caroline, it’s someone else. It’s as if he’s been summoned by your denial. You grip the door handle tight as Steve greets you with a bouquet of poppies.

“What… are you doing here?” You eke out.

He grins, “I didn’t hear from you so I thought I’d drop in. Just to say hi. I figured you’re a busy lady so you must’ve forgot to give me a call.”

His tone is light but with a weight hidden between his words. Like he knows something you don’t. He’s so certain it fills you with doubt.

“Uh, well, er, Steve,” you stammer, “it’s nice of you to check in but I’m expecting a student.”

“I understand. I just am so excited to learn more so I wanted to schedule my next lesson and you said yourself that I should keep at if I want to get better so–”

“Look, I, erm,” your words are stunted, painfully as they rise in wispy breaths, “I’m sorry I didn’t call but I’m at capacity.”

He watches you. His cheek dimples and the silver patch in his beard, just along his chin, catches the sunlight. He holds out the poppies in the cone of brown paper.

“I brought you your favourite,” he insists.

“That’s all very nice,” you reply, “but I’m sorry. I can’t take on any new students right now. There’s a music studio I can recommend, I have their number. My cousin works there and he’s brilliant at piano–”

“No,” he says bluntly, keeping the poppies hovering before you. “I don’t want a studio. I want you.”

“Really, I can’t. The flowers are pretty but I…” your voice quavers as his gaze bores into you. You chew your lip as you try to muster the next excuse.

“Would you quit chewing your lip and tell me the truth?” His timbre takes on a new edge and chokes the air from your chest.

“I am,” you murmur, “I’m– I should’ve told you but I lost track of… time.”

“And yesterday? At capacity. You didn’t have a single student.”

“Wha– how would you–”

“Hey, sorry I’m running a bit beh–” Caroline’s trill carries up the walk as she rushes up with Freddy’s hand in hers. She gasps and stops short, “oh, I’m so sorry to interrupt. I got caught up at doctor’s office and I know we’re late.”

You notice how she eyes Steve from head to toe. There’s a line of disapproval in her forehead as she stares at his arms. He’s unbothered as he doesn’t even turn around.

“It’s fine,” you step to the left to see around Steve, “I have everything ready–”

“We’re not done, sweetheart,” Steve snarls as he forms a barrier between you and Caroline. “You’re going to stand here and lie to me. Refuse the gift I brought you.”

“I told you. I’m just one person and I can’t handle any more students,” you put on your most stringent tenor, for Caroline and Freddy. You don’t want to cause them any panic. “Thank you.”

“That’s not what your post said online.”

“It’s old. I forgot–”

“You keep forgetting a lot.”

“Please, go. I have a lesson now.”

He huffs and drops his hand, hanging the flowers petals down as he sneers and turns to look at Caroline. He squares his shoulders and descends the steps one at a time. He marches up to her as Freddy cowers and clings to her arm, mommy.”

“Be careful with this con artist,” Steve grits out, “she’ll take your deposit and run. Trust me.”

You frown and bluster forward. He carries on down the sidewalk and you babble dumbly. Caroline looks at you then at Freddy as he fidgets. She turns to watch Steve cross the street as he tosses the flowers on the road. You follow her eyeline and stand frozen at his angry display.

He puts his helmet on and straddles the large motorcycle by the curb. He kicks the stand up and starts the engine, the roar cutting through the air starkly. You quake with the rumble as he revs and tears out, running over the bouquet as he tears off down the avenue.

“I–” you begin, “I’m so sorry, Caroline. I don’t even know–”

There’s a sniffle and sob. You both look down at Freddy as he begins to cry, “mommy, I’m scared.”

“Shhh,” Caroline turns and squats down to comfort him, wiping his tears with her thumbs. “It’s okay, Freddy, come on.”

She draws him into a hug and you flit down the steps.

“You okay, Freddy?” You bend slightly as you try to get his attention. “How about you come inside and have a few cookies?”

“Please,” Caroline snaps at you, “I think we’re going to cancel this week’s lesson.”

“He won’t come back–”

“Look, I don’t know the type of men you hang around and frankly I don’t care,” she stands up and inserts herself in front of her son, “but when they scare my son, I have to be concerned about leaving him with you.”

“Really, I barely know him–”

“Please, keep your escapades to yourself,” she shows her palm dismissively. “You know, if you’re going to have kids here, you need to be careful who you bring around.”

“I don’t— I don’t know him.”

She scoffs and flicks you away like a gnat. She turns and tugs Freddy with her down the walk. You bring your hands to your throat in horror and sputter. Oh no, another empty slot. You might have to dip into your savings. Worse, you don’t know if they’ll even come back next week.

You drop your shoulders as you watch Caroline put Freddy in the car. As bad as the missing money, you looked forward to the company. You bite into your lip as doom stabs in your gut.

You wince and lean back on your heel. You reach out to lean on the pillar, your other hand falling to your stomach as nausea stirs. Steve’s words replay in your head.

Yesterday? How did he know? You were so caught up in the moment, you hadn’t truly felt the impact of those words.

He has been watching you.

#steve rogers #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #drawn together #steve rogers x reader #drabble #dark drabble #dark!drabble #series #au #tattoo au #mcu #marvel #captain america

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jiminrings · 2 years ago

Note

please could you write about yoongi meeting the baby for the first time :)

478: drabble

alternatively, yoongi drops by your house out of the blue :)

[ 478 masterlist ]

Hwayoung’s first three days in the house has kept things askew.

For starters, you and Jungkook have never been happier than now but at the same note, the both of you have never been more sleep-deprived in your lives.

You’re getting the hang of breastfeeding and Jungkook’s slowly improving his efficiency in diaper-changing, the only moments wherein Hwayoung wasn’t either crying or gurgling being spent on trying to keep things maintained in general.

Your husband used to have this solid routine of cleaning everything around the house everyday but now, he can’t do so much as vacuuming in the fear of missing out and undoing all your work on soothing Hwayoung. He did read this article how it’d be beneficial to get your babies used to loud sounds such as vacuuming, but being a first-time dad, he already feels like bursting to tears when he sees his daughter’s face scrunching up from the sound.

Jungkook still has the routine down of cooking your meals but he only has much time to prepare them for you and not for himself, going about his day feeding off from granola bars and ramen that he won’t even let you have because there’s too much salt.

He’s never felt more fulfilled in his life but he’s also never been this paranoid, sharing the same sentiments with you when most of the time, you even refuse to sleep just to monitor the rise and fall of Hwayoung’s chest. Jungkook’s been stopping his breathing more frequently just to look at his daughter’s, the anxiety of being a new parent melting away when her eyes focus on him.

“I’m gonna pass out. Hold down the fort for us, please,” you yawn as you trudge to Jungkook, giving him a warm kiss before pressing one on Hwayoung who’s in his arms by the baby pink couch. “My alarm’s set up but call me immediately when she’s starting to fuss, the extra diapers are in the cart, you can-…”

“You can relax, baby,” Jungkook interrupts you, blinking up at you with doe eyes. His glasses almost get in the way when he practically inhales your cheek with the way he kisses you, but he chuckles anyway when you let out a little giggle.

He can finally let out of a sigh of relief when you get into bed because you’ve finally succumbed after shrugging off numerous attempts, finally accepting the fact that you need to rest if you want to attend to Hwayoung in the most present yet healthiest way that you could.

It’s not long that Jungkook stews in silent adoration until his phone buzzes in his pocket, maneuvering Hwayoung in his hold. He squints at his screen because it’s not another congratulatory text nor you texting him yet another one of your reminders — it’s Yoongi.

| i’m outside ur door go open it

| didn’t ring the bell in case hwayoung’s asleep :D

Jungkook blinks once, twice before finally pocketing his phone, at a loss for words for the spontaneity of Yoongi dropping by unannounced. He obliges anyway and takes extra care going down the stairs, his daughter sleeping through it like a rock.

The moment Jungkook opens the door, Yoongi immediately brightens up — in a sweater that reads world’s best uncle.

“Yoongi, dude, I love you but what are you doing here?” Jungkook blinks, knowing that the guy is very much aware of your no-visitor rule for the meantime but he’s clearly here in the flesh, dressed for the occasion nonetheless.

“Hello to you too, Jungkook,” Yoongi snickers, immediately softening once he sets his gaze on the baby in his arms. “Hi, pretty girl.”

Jungkook’s still stunned but he quickly reels in his surprise when Yoongi gently scoots him over, noticing that he’s carrying a whole duffel bag with him.

“Move over,” Yoongi sing-songs, looking around to assess the state of your house. It’s cluttered and he doesn’t exactly blame the two of you, yet he still takes the challenge head-on. “I’m here to cook and clean.”

“What?” Jungkook’s eyes bulge, the gasp in his throat enough to make Hwayoung bounce slightly on his chest.

“I’m here to be of service. I’ll do your chores, I’ll cook, I’ll meal-prep. I’m going home tonight anyway, but still, you get my point. I’ll come back everyday for the next two weeks, or y’know, until things start to fall into routine with Hwayoung,” Yoongi shrugs effortlessly, setting down his bag that’s full of ingredients he’d researched that’s good for breastfeeding moms and perhaps also anxious dads. “This is a surprise, by the way, even Y/N doesn’t know. Consider this as a gift because what the hell are first-time parents supposed to do with balloons anyway?”

Jungkook has his lips parted open, eyes unblinking. He watches Yoongi survey the place from where he stands and when the latter notices that he’s met with utter silence, he turns to Jungkook who looks like a fish out of water.

“Not unless… you also want balloons?” Yoongi tries, eyebrows furrowed at the way your husband is frozen like a statue. “I can get that arranged, if you’d like…? I also bought Hwayoung some diapers and they’re in my trunk so-…”

“Yoongi.”

Jungkook interrupts Yoongi with a firm embrace even with just one arm able to go around his body, an awed sigh leaving him because truly, the whole thing is such a quiet yet grand gesture that’s awfully Yoongi from the way it’s been carefully thought of. It means a whole lot, so much so that your husband can tackle him to the ground if not for Hwayoung in his arms.

He wordlessly offers Hwayoung to Yoongi and the guy just blinks before the situation registers in his head, cradling your daughter close with utmost care as he instinctively rocks her.

“Y/N and I already talked about it but she’s sleeping right now so,” Jungkook clears his throat, eyes fond with silent awe at the way Yoongi coos at his daughter. “Do you wanna be Hwayoung’s godfather?”

It’s Yoongi’s turn to be speechless, eyes wide and mouth parted. He’s even more frozen than Jungkook awhile ago, startling the latter. Your husband is just about to assure him that he could say no if he wanted to but Yoongi interrupts him this time, an honored smile on his face.

“Of course I do,” Yoongi coos, humming to Hwayoung. “I’d protect her like my own.”

#478 drabbles #jungkook imagine #jungkook oneshot #jungkook scenario

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bajuuuu · 7 months ago

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The ballroom dancing fic is finally finished!

AO3

Excerpt below:

Never, when you go on an away mission, do you expect it to go exactly as planned. Which is exactly why you never send the entire bridge crew together, that way there is always someone to get you out of trouble when you inevitably get into one.

That of course assumes one part of the bridge crew doesn’t get lost, the other trapped while searching for them and the third transported down directly from the bridge because of the second party who has gotten themselves mind controlled in the meantime.

Yes. This was just one of those days aboard the Enterprise.

“Spock,” Jim approached his first officer, closing the already small gap between them, “would you care for a dance?” He offered him his shoulder to grab a hold of.

All in all it was not his best concealed way of pulling Spock aside for a much needed conversation but with how title time he’s had to think, it would have to do.

Spock was looking around, quite obviously searching for an exit out of the enormous ballroom into which the crew had been enclosed about twenty minutes ago. “Captain, do you indeed think that to be the best way to spend our-”

Jim interrupted Spock quickly, putting on an overly pleasant smile. “Since our guests have prepared such an… exquisite evening for us, I think it would be rude of us to not engage in the activities they laid out.” He eyed one of the Rioans- a species of vaguely humanoid gaseous creatures totally unknown to the federation until the Enterprise stumbled upon them when exploring an allegedly uninhabited planet.

The creature seemed to be examining them in return, its ‘head’ turned towards the two of them while the rest of its body floated and swirled in tune with a rhythm of music that filled the space. If it got any suspicion that the starship’s captain was conspiring with his first officer, there would be very little stopping it from turning them into mindless drones just like the rest of the crew was. Most of them have already been affected, dancing or talking placidly with the Rioan inhabitants of the planet, their eyes glazed over by a milky shade of white and minds focusing on nothing but their respective dance partners.

”I believe you are correct, captain.” Spock noticed the creature slowly floating over and took Jim’s offered arm hastily. “Please, lead the way.”

Spock let Jim walk him towards a less populated area and assumed a formal dance position which is when Jim noticed a great design flaw in his amazing plan. He had no idea how to dance. Sure, he’s had a class or two back at the academy, but that was years ago. “I am afraid that I have very little idea as to what to do now, mister Spock.” Jim took a searching look at the Vulkan, hoping that he would be able to help out.

“Perhaps I might take the lead then?” Spock asked, opening his arms for Kirk to join him. Jim swallowed down his doubts and accepted the gesture, wrapping one arm over Spock’s wais, his hand landing just over where his heart must be. As he reached for Spock’s other hand to hold, he hesitated. Spock has never actually set up a boundary with Jim about holding hands but it was a taboo in their relationship both of them were acutely aware of.

As the music in the room, which had died down moments ago, picked back up, Spock grabbed hold of Jim’s wrist, solving the dilemma for him. Then, his ears perked up like a cat on a prowl, began to analyze the tune. “The current music suggests we engage in the earth dance of waltz.” He summarized. “Are you familiar?”

Read the full fic on AO3 :D

#star trek #star trek tos #spirk #tos #spock #fanfic

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r0-boat · 5 months ago

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Hello it seems like the person has deleted their account... I have no idea why they came at me with horrible accusations in the first place.

Please never accuse people of pedophilia and grooming minors that is a serious offense and crime.

And to the people who believed it.

I understand that you just want to protect the victims but please be aware that people do lie even though it is very heartbreaking.

Anyways I Will still be on hiatus for a little while but I will be back to posting stupid things in the meantime.

Thank you so much for the kind words and messages yesterday was a shit show.

minors please don't interact please please please

#ro.chatting

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priderock-inc · 1 month ago

Text

The Red Flower (part I)

The Red Flower is fancier than any restaurant Zazu’s ever stepped foot into.

He’s very well aware that, had this not been a business lunch, he wouldn’t be stepping foot into it at all.

He tries not to show it, though; following their hostess beside Mufasa and wending his way around the dark wooden furniture until they reach a table near the wall, just underneath an enormous mural depicting the cooling dusk of an Indian jungle.

“I don’t think they’re here yet.” Mufasa scans the restaurant. “We’re waiting for Hathi and two others-”

“And Scar,” Zazu points out, a trifle snippily. “You’d think he could have bothered to be here on time. This is important.”

Mufasa sighs. “He had a chiropractic appointment. I’m glad he’s coming at all.”

They sit down, and Zazu glances down at the table, around at the few other patrons, fiddles with his shirt cuffs. This place breathes money and he feels extremely out-of-place.

The door opens.

And because Zazu did his research, he recognizes the grey-haired man even bigger than Mufasa as Hathi, a retired colonel and the current CEO of HathiCorp. The tall, slim man on his left is Bagheera, the COO, and the redhead on his other side is CIO Shere Khan. Bagheera's gait reminds Zazu of Scar, just a little.

Mufasa rises as the three get closer. Zazu rises too, on impulse.

Shere Khan appears, on closer inspection, to have a slight limp.

Mufasa pulls the other man into a bear hug. “Hathi! It’s been far too long!”

“Mufasa, good to see you.” The colonel’s voice is like thunder, deep and ponderous. “Especially out of the boardroom. This- ah, Zazu. So you're the one keeping everything in order, I hear. Mufasa, Zazu, this is my COO-”

The dark-skinned man steps forward, accepting Mufasa’s handshake with a polished, easy smile. “-Bagheera. Great to put a face to the emails. Pleased to meet you both.”

His eyes are jewel-green (darker than Scar’s, not that Zazu is thinking about the absent VP again) and they seem to take everything in with no effort at all. Zazu finds himself envying the easy grace.

“-and Shere Khan.” The redhead nods. He's not the most pleasant person Zazu has ever come across; his handshake is too firm and he practically rakes Zazu up and down with a stare that seems entirely too disdainful for a first meeting.

Zazu doesn't drop his gaze.

“Shall we?” Missing the exchange, Mufasa gestures to the table.

Bagheera slides into the seat next to Zazu. “Isn’t there another person in your party?”

“Yes.” Zazu fights the urge to roll his eyes. “Our illustrious Vice President. He has this habit of not showing up to things that don’t interest him. You’d think he’d come just for his brother, at least, but-”

“They’re brothers? Mufasa looks nothing like him, if the pictures I've seen are to be believed. Scar, isn’t it?”

With a nod, Zazu picks up his menu and glances at it, mostly for something to do with his eyes so he doesn’t have to meet Bagheera’s green ones. “You’ve done your research.”

“I bet you have, too,” Bagheera grins. It’s a friendly smile, one that makes Zazu feel like he’s in on the joke instead of the butt of it.

Mufasa checks his watch. “It appears our vice president is running a bit late. We’ll wait a few more minutes. In the meantime- Hathi, how are your boys?”

“Lively as always.” Hathi takes a sip of water. “My eldest has recently started to take soccer lessons, actually. It was Winifred’s idea. I swear, that boy has the coordination of an elephant sometimes…”

The CEOs chat for a few more minutes. Shere Khan sits (sprawls, really, is a better word) in silence, eyes roving around the room until the door opens again, and Zazu instinctively sits up straighter in his chair.

Scar greets the hostess with a shallow bow and a slight inclination of his head. They exchange a few words, and she points toward the corner before turning to help the next few patrons.

“Hmm,” Bagheera murmurs out of the corner of his mouth. “They do look almost nothing alike. I'm going to guess t-?”

Pointedly, Zazu clears his throat.

“Apologies for the delay, gentlemen. Traffic was a disaster.” Scar’s eyes rove around the party as he approaches the table, stopping at Zazu, upon which he offers up a particularly toothy grin. “I feel simply awful.”

“I’m sure,” Zazu mutters.

He senses, somehow, Bagheera's quiet amusement without seeing it.

“Well, traffic or otherwise, it was worth the wait.” Shere Khan looks at Scar, a slow smile curving over his lips. “Well worth the wait. Who might this be?”

“Glad to you see, Scar.” Mufasa gets to his feet and comes around the table, putting an arm around Scar’s shoulders. “We’ve just been making introductions. Gentlemen, allow me to introduce Pride Rock’s vice president.”

To Zazu’s surprise, Scar doesn’t throw off Mufasa’s hand. He merely allows himself to be led around the table, greeting each of the HathiCorp reps in turn. “Charmed, I’m sure.”

“A pleasure,” Hathi rumbles, and accepts Scar’s proffered handshake. “And this is our COO, Bagheera-” Bagheera inclines his head lazily- “and Shere Khan, our CIO.”

“Enchanted,” Shere Khan purrs. “Allow me to fetch you a chair.”

“Oh, I couldn’t possibly.” Scar smoothly extricates himself from Mufasa’s sidelong embrace and Shere Khan’s lingering grip and gestures to the last empty seat. "May I, Zazu?"

Zazu can’t help a smug little satisfaction. "Be my guest.”

“You did say,” Scar murmurs as he sits down.

The arrival of the waiter with the drinks list is a fortunate diversion. Hathi orders a mango juice, Shere Khan has red wine, Bagheera asks for a Prosecco, and Zazu requests a refill of his water glass.

“A teetotaler, are we?” Shere Khan’s voice has more than a hint of a sneer in it.

“I’ll have the same,” Mufasa cuts in. “Iced, please.”

He smiles. “I’m driving.”

“And sparkling water for me,” Scar finishes. “With a twist of lemon. Much obliged.”

The waiter nods and moves away.

Conversation continues over the next several minutes. Zazu hears about the head of HathiCorp’s HR- Baloo, Bagheera says his name is- and then about some amusing office incidents, including The Truce, which is apparently a company joke that occurs whenever the water cooler system breaks down.

“Only happens on occasion, though,” Bagheera explains. “Thankfully. It did last month.” He waves a hand. “Turmoil.”

“Sounds like our coffee maker,” Scar adds. “Or it did, until you said it only breaks down occasionally.”

Shere Khan leans forward. “How unfortunate. Do you have only the one machine?”

“I hardly think we could handle another one,” Zazu says dryly. Mufasa laughs at that, but Shere Khan narrows his eyes.

“He does this all the time,” Bagheera murmurs out of the corner of his mouth, and Zazu’s only thought is it figures.

Mufasa finishes recounting the time Simba had managed to cause an avalanche of janitorial supplies and almost get crushed in the stampeding buckets and cleaning implements. Hathi has a long sip of his juice before launching into another story, this time involving his youngest son and a truly enormous puddle of mud. Scar taps his fingers idly on the tabletop.

“Are you all right?” Zazu mutters, as quietly as he can.

“Thriving,” Scar breathes back. “Although-” he jerks his chin toward where Mufasa and Hathi are swapping more childrearing misadventures- “I cannot believe Sarabi let him outside in that tie.”

“Care to share the joke?” Shere Khan inquires, leaning forward again.

“We were just admiring my brother’s tie,” Scar replies. “Would you believe he has an entire collection of those prints? I swear, I don’t know where he manages to find them.”

“Because I’d burn down the warehouse if I did,” he adds in an undertone to Zazu, who’s pretty sure he’s going to burst something from struggling not to laugh.

Mufasa smiles. “Thank you, Scar.”

“So, what’s good?” Bagheera inquires as the waiter passes out dinner menus.

Taking another sip of juice, Hathi rolls his head thoughtfully from side to side. "I'm vegetarian, but I’ve heard good things about the steak here."

"Sounds good to me," Mufasa nods. “Steak, please.”

Scar grins. “I’ll have the same. Genuine rare.”

“For me as well,” Shere Khan adds, and Zazu tries very hard not to roll his eyes.

“This lamb looks interesting.” Bagheera hands his menu back.

Zazu decides on a fig-and-cheese salad. Once the waiter finishes taking everything down and disappears again, Mufasa pulls out some papers- some of them email printouts, Zazu knows, and some charts and contracts- and business talk begins in earnest.

#pride rock incorporated #zazu #mufasa #scar #shere khan #hathicorp #hathi #bagheera

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jdmorganz · 2 years ago

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I don’t usually do things like this, but I thought this was kind of a big deal for my blog. When I started this blog I was really only trying to make friends in the fandoms I was in, but it became so much more for me. Making gifs is very relaxing for me. It makes me happy and I love sharing with others the things that I love the most. I want to send positivity out into the world and the fandoms that I’m part of, so I’m very thankful for each and every single one of my followers that I do have. I started this blog when I was a kid and I can’t believe what it has grown to.

I just hit 25,000 followers the other day and thought it would be fun to do a silly little celebration for it. I’ve gone through quite a few fandoms since joining this community and thought it would be interesting to see what my followers liked the most from some of my favorite characters as well as have some fun.

Would you please pick your top 5 favorite characters from this list? I separated them by their fandom, just be aware if you are voting for The Last of Us, that you are picking either the video game version or the tv show version. I’ll run the poll for two weeks until Thursday, March 9th and then I’ll tally up who the top 10 favorite characters of my followers are.

Another thing you can do if you want to until then is send me a make me choose between shows, actors, characters, etc. It will be fun until then because it would be cool to make some artsy type sets in the meantime.

Thank you to everyone that follows me, to those blogs that inspire me with all the art that they do and for those friends that have been here for me throughout my time being here. This place gives me a break from the real world and I appreciate each and everyone of you!

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y-rhywbeth2 · 11 months ago

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Sooooo I am very curious about your Durge and how they are built. Do they link into the lore of the earlier games? Are they a resist or accept type? Tell us more! 👀

You mean built as in "how Bhaal made him", or as in character build, or as in characterisation? Well, I'll answer them all anyway. Here's more rambling information than anyone needed about my fucked up, socially-unacceptable mess who needs therapy!

[Be aware dead doves may be present, ymmv]

Resist, technically. He woke up with a tadpole in his head and no memories, he wasn't going to trust a presence in the back of his head that kept stealing his bodily autonomy until he understood what it was. As he grew fond of his party, he began to be pushed towards doing good things and helping people to please them (and because it honestly does feel good to see people happy, even as it makes the Urge hurt him).

Of course there were a few exceptions where nobody except Astarion was looking where he was a bit pragmatic or just plain mean, because it was funny.

Then he got his memories back in Act 3 and had a full blown nervous breakdown as he realised how badly he had failed Father and his sole reason for existence by allowing himself to fall for the delusion that he was a real person. He tried to go back to just being Bhaal's evil little puppet, but it was too late and his loyalties were torn between being what his friends wanted and being what Bhaal wanted. There was another panic attack when he couldn't bring himself to kill Minsc because it would upset Jaheria, Wyll and Karlach. Still murdered a few innocent people and a celestial being behind their backs. Also every Flaming Fist in the Lower City, but that was their own fucking fault for having stupid AI. Turns out you can't have everyone you love, but luckily he got to solve this issue by letting Father kill him as punishment for his failure! He repents for his failure and his friends get to believe that he died a heroic sacrifice and move on with their lives - win-win! Except that Jergal interfered and now he has to carry around this tainted, stolen flesh he doesn't want to claim - damn you, old man.

Post-game he's living with Astarion; both having their bad days where they have time to stop and process their trauma now, and also having good days where they adventure; grow into being fully free willed individuals; hunt and kill people for fun, blood and profit where socially acceptable; and get some research done on stuff like Bhaalspawn and vampires. He'll probably be ok in, like, a decade or twenty, once he's finished coming to terms with the idea that he was genuinely miserable and terrified living under Bhaal's control and has formed his own life and a stable identity. In the meantime - abandonment issues, identity crises, issues about autonomy, paranoia about retaliation and religious guilt!

If he had failed in his duel against Orin and been condemned to lose his autonomy (and seen his friends immediately give up on him), or had he not been given death as a choice, he probably would've forsaken the party and fulfilled his original purpose in the end game. But he would've quickly killed them in their sleep first as a mercy! He's not totally heartless! He's an absolute mess.

He doesn't have much in the way of connections to the original games.

I go back and forth on how old I want him to be and haven't settled yet. I don't think he's young. Originally I had him be born in the temples before the Time of Troubles, along with the other Bhaalspawn but then it turned out that Durge's backstory is weird.

Going off of what we're told about being carved from Bhaal's dead flesh, having no birthday and being conceived beyond mortality, I'm assuming he was created from a part of Bhaal's corpse on the Astral Plane, where there was no time. Probably shortly after the end of Throne of Bhaal, in 1369 DR - maybe Bhaal was paranoid about Amelyssan and Bhaal's failure to be resurrected triggered the failsafe and initiated plan B: the Dark Urge.

Or Vel was born after 1372 DR, when Bane was reborn and Bhaal maybe felt a little insecure.

I have contemplated having my Charname meddle with his "birth" to piss Bhaal off, adding part of her own essence into the mixture. Technically it's not incest, because it's purely by magic, but it's still enough to make her sort of his mother and make it weird. Just to make the family tree even more complicated. Also technically makes him a half-human, half-hin, sun elf, quasi-deity. Nothing in this guy's life makes sense.

He's a ranger, because hey, he's a hunter - he just hunts people. He's comfortable hunting and surviving in urban or natural environments; he learned to live off the streets while being homeless after his foster family's death (and the subsequent massacre at the Ilmatari shrine that sheltered him) and learned to live off the land after fleeing into the wilds to lie low. It's also how he's familiar with poisons and venoms. He has an interest in death as part of the natural cycle, so the nature class suits him. Also likes animals, who are significantly less judgemental and more pragmatic about killing. Scavengers tend to follow him around for the corpses he leaves, and he ended up with a few rat and corvid animal companions (though Bhaal often forced him to kill them if he got too attached). It also lets me play a divine spellcaster, although I assume in his case the power is coming from his own soul rather than a patron god.

He's a divine being and an excellent killer, he knows this and it gives him self-confidence in his actions that some have described as "insufferably arrogant" or "suicidal". His go-to tactics for dealing with a problem are: Step 1) Promise death if subject does not submit Step 2) If subject does not submit; kill them Skipping to step two is also always on the table. All problems can be solved with murder.

His dump stat is intelligence, because the poor kid who ended up alone and homeless didn't have much time or resources for education. In another life he would've been a bard, he has a knack for carrying a tune and writing prose. I like to think Orin would've enjoyed art and maybe the theatre in her own alternate Bhaal-free universe, so it's an interesting parallel for them.

He takes an approximation of elven form because Bhaal decided to reverse engineer the Blessing of Corellon, using the soul of one of his elven kids as a reference, to give Vel a physical fluidity/flexibility that would be useful to his plan to breed an army of Bhaalspawn using Durge. Also works as a threat; obey, or there are other uses I have for you, and some of them will see you locked up for nine months. (Vel goes by male pronouns and presents as a cis man, but is somewhat flexible and accepts they/them pronouns. Not she/her though.)

Vel also has a million and one hang-ups about sex because of stuff like this; namely that he won't have any kind of sex that might cause pregnancy, and he used to kill the partners he begrudgingly took so that they wouldn't be able to perceive him during the act or remember him sexually. He makes a special exception for people who he's assigned an "equal" or "higher rank" over himself - they can do what they like with him and it's their right. Those exceptions would be Bhaal (Vel's body is Bhaal's body, as far as he's concerned), sort-of Gortash (except Vel didn't fully trust him and their relationship makes Bhaal irritated, so every time they had sex Vel had to leave and have a panic attack afterwards) and Astarion (who has his own hang-ups). There might have been something kind of going on with Orin, partly due to pressure for them to have "sacrificial lambs" together, but neither want to talk about it. He considered Ketheric, but Ketheric can't die and that would ruin it because Vel would be too busy trying to kill him to actually have sex.

Originally he was going to be the son of a member of the Eldreth Veluuthra, who turned to Bhaal for divine aid because the Seldarine still won't aid the terrorist organisation in committing genocide against the human race, for some strange reason. She would've raised her little abomination into be a weapon to set on them, and enjoyed the irony of humans being slain by an abomination spawned by of one of their own gods.

Since "the Dark Urge" gets you some funny looks when you use it in public, mine concedes to being called "Vel" - a name that only gets you funny looks from the minority that speak elven, because you've just introduced yourself as "dagger/knife." It's a description of him as a tool, not a person. His foster family did give him a name, but he refuses to acknowledge it because it was intended for a person who only existed in their imagination and he'll stab you if you call him by that name. He technically got the name from Gortash, who once "jokingly" referred to him as his favourite weapon one evening, enjoying the success after one of their joint plots to exploit some noble or other and advance both their goals via assassination/politicking. Vel has identity issues and complicated relationship with real Tel'Quessir, so he chose the elven word for the irony (no real elf would accept association with a Bhaalspawn, least of all this one).

Mostly he goes by no name at all. He might pick a new one, in a few decades when he's grown, healed a bit and feels secure in having his own identity.

Vel is Lawful, and alternates between Evil and Neutral depending on his mood and situation. He will fall to pieces without a purpose to structure his life around. He doesn't care if people around him are more Chaotic though, it's purely a personal code. If he takes a mercenary or assassination contract or something, he will fulfil it to the letter and make no attempts to backstab his employer or get any more than the agreed upon payment. He makes zero promises about the actions of anyone working with him, they can do what they want and it's not his problem.

He has a hierarchy in his head: Bhaal > Himself, Gortash, Astarion > Orin, the party > everyone else

His moral compass is a twisted thing that he's cobbled together out of scraps over the course of under two months, it's not very complete or useful. On the good-evil axis, he doesn't usually have second thoughts about taking actions that are evil, and he's not keen on the concept of morality as a whole; there was never any point in developing a sense for it. He never had any real say in his actions and he kind of resents people who judge him for them.

He kind of misses Sceleritas, his "great purpose" and all the power he used to wield, and he would make a fantastic Sharran.

#Forewarning of dark possibly dead dove content #I can't not write essays #I put way too much thought into my characters but it's fun #OCs #Vel #long post #edgelord hours

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