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jolalibrary · 4 months ago

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there's nothing blue about you

javier peña x f!reader | masterlist

summary: javier peña's dreams are haunted by shades of blue, blending his fears into nightmarish landscapes. only his lover's touch anchors him, transforming his dreams into hues of something else.

warnings: 18+ smut, p in v. overuse of the colour blue, like by a lot. this whole this is an angsty bitch, with hopeful/hea. leans close to gothic horror in some ways but not quite, honestly? unsure how to describe what in the hell I've written. third-person reader (she/her). no descriptions, no y/n. an: written for @studioghibelli's fic challenge. (the moodboard is at the end of the fic). i think i leaned very much into painting and blue, and I'm not sure if that at all was what was asked of me. thanks: i'd have likely scrapped this if not for @goodwithcheese who took my weird-poetic-ness and called it lyrical and somehow it made it worth how long I've agonised over this. i hope she knows i love her, and if not, i hope this very public declaration confirms it. shoutout @pedgito who urged me to do this. wc: 2.7k

Javier Peña dreams in blue.

Thick strokes of azure, cerulean, and navy smear the world, forcing it to twist around him. Smearing the world, forcing it to twist around him. Knocking it all on its axis—allowing the horrors to blend into fairytales and happiness to shift into nightmares.

Shifting, changing. His worst fears come alive with brushwork, forcing scenarios to swallow hopeful desires.

Each blot spreads out like tendrils, drawing their tales in wide, brisk strokes, in shades of melancholy and yellow. The latter is a beacon—a spark of hope in a sea of nothing; a beam that guides him back to reality. To being awake, where his heart squeezes tight. Eyes open, struggling for breath before the sun has even risen. Sometimes, even before the stars have stopped sparkling and glittering. Sweat beads at his temple, palm to his chest—gasping, struggling to breathe as he drags his hand down his face, swiping the hair above his lip.

Then, anxiousness embroils. That same hand patting, sliding, eyes blinking furiously as he banishes shadows and forces them to shift back to non-threatening inanimate objects.

He’s able to breathe when he feels her. Alive, asleep.

Blissfully unaware of his nightly torture as her chest rises and falls—soft breaths mingling with ragged ones. Curling close, inhaling her scent, listening to the steady way her heart forces blood around her veins.

Hoping, praying, that when he closes his eyes he dreams of nothing, but knows they’ll be worse now. They always are when he wakes and reaches for her. As though by touching her, they spill to her, ruining her too. Wrap their fingers around her, change her skin to deep shades of blue in his hands as he falls through landscapes and lands in hell.

Then she sobs, pleads; tight little balled-up fists hammering at his chest as she shakes everything in him until she rips like paper, leaving him alone, just like he envisions he should be.

But then, he’d choose those over the ones where his hands are stained in her crimson, blotched, unable to be washed, little beads on his clothes and then a rainfall. Her split in his hand, eyes fading from light to dark. Those haunt him for longer when he wakes and he sits opposite her over breakfast and tries to force a smile.

Sometimes, he worries that his dreams have become the thing she adores. Reminding him of the poster she’s framed in her place—the one with swirls of a night sky.

She stares at it often, loses herself in it—escapes. Javi envies her for it. For being able to lock away the things that plague her, evading them, not to be tormented by them in fields that shift and flutter around him. He thinks it’s because she carves out the parts that make bags appear under her eyes through painting. Inspired, thriving, transforming wicked things into light, taking something that weighs her to something that makes her smile. Each drag of her paintbrush was like a spell, like magic.

“It helps.”

“How so?” he replied, leaning against the wall, arms folded, admiring.

Shrugging, wiping her forehead with the back of her hand before dabbing the brush into the murky water. “Just does.”

He wishes she’d run the brush over him. Run the synthetic filaments over every part of his skin.

But then, if he was asked, Javi would choose not to have the dreams at all. Would rather not be lost in a labyrinth of blues, where a lantern flickers and tries to guide. Instead, they cast ochre-shaded shadows that appear like shape-shifting failures. Each of them dancing, whispering secrets, finding all he can do is follow. Trust in it, hopeful it takes him to her, like his real life.

An accidental meeting, a connection that soothed his bones. One that had him smiling when he sat back in his truck, had him thinking when the darkness smothered the backyard and had him wishing for second meetings.

But, unlike his reality, the path is never straight, always winding, always shifting.

Sometimes, he sees her in the distance, her figure bathed in moonlight, a silhouette against the swirling sky. Sheet falling, curves and all on show. He reaches out, only for her to fade, dissolving into the night, leaving him grasping at the air like he’s chasing a ghost. A thing conjured, never real.

But, she’s real now.

His arm is behind his head when he hears the faint groan as she stretches before a palm slides over the soft curve of his stomach. Her breath fans over his lips, a whispered morning before they press to his. Smooth, velvety, gentle—addled with sleep, yet dripping in need. His name is punctuation in the sentence when she says, want you.

He never squanders the chance to remind himself of actuality. Moving her until she’s on her back, until she’s as bare as she is in his dreams—nothing blue, nothing midnight, cobalt or sapphire. Feeling her, taking the time to as he kneads her breast and grazes his teeth over the bud that hardens against his tongue as her nails scrape red along the olive of his skin.

There’s no making up the way she feels between her thighs, warm, slick, and inviting—or the gasp she emits when he curls two fingers inside of her and her back arches at the intrusion.

A blessing. That’s how he’d describe her when he’d been caught smiling, wearing smitten like an accessory. Questioning on the second date if she could be the sun to his night. Bright, luminous, radiant. The type he’d somehow expect to find shopping in town in a movie, but not in Laredo.

Too perfect—

Made only more so when she’d slid her underwear into his pocket on their third date. Before the mains, after the starters. Too much of the meal to go before he could make an excuse that’d allow him to hear if she moaned as pretty as he had thought.

It’s too pretty the noises she makes. Another thing he yearns for. She emits them in varying shades, but they’re always cried with his name—whether he fucks her rough or gentle, whether he takes his time or bends her over the couch decorated in plush cushions and creased blankets.

She welcomes it, when he hikes her dress up or when he pushes her panties to the side; when his mouth is pressed to her spine or when it’s crashing to her lips. Use me, she says, suave, sultry—each letter wrapped in intoxication as she leaves dye only he can see on his skin and he leaves bruises that he’ll look to replace in a few days.

He remembers when she painted him.

When she made him beautiful on white canvas—saw him, immortalised him with finger marks and paint strokes.

Do you like it?

He answered only by sliding down onto his knees, by pulling the shorts she paints in down her glorious thighs and answering yes against her pussy. His tongue explained it better than words could. His fingers had dug into the flesh of her rear as his nose bordered her swollen clit, her thigh rested on his shoulder and her palms pressed into her workbench, leaning back, for leverage as he fucked her with his tongue, as he drank up every drop she’d give him—as though it healed him, fixed him.

When he can, Javi likes bending her over around her paints—taking her. Likes that sometimes an open can or a left-out brush stains him in a way he can see. Rich oranges and deep greens. He enjoys spreading her out on her workbench as he makes her whine his name which makes all other ways his name is spoken seem obsolete. That there’s more than her sweat on his skin, her scent digging into his bones—evidence, proof of existence.

He has all the evidence now as he slowly slides his cock inside of her. As he swallows her whine, her moan—a gasp tinged with thankfulness. Feeling her stretch around him, take him in one smooth movement as allows himself to glance down and see where they meet. Then, he drags his eyes up, and sees how she smiles, how her fingers are reaching for him, grabbing for him. Needing, desperate, wanting.

But not just for his body, for what lived inside of his jeans. But for him.

Not just the daytime, but the blue version that drapes over him when things get too quiet and his mind gets too loud. No question asked, but an offering of comfort. Like when she had slid across his lap, when she pulled his head to her chest, brushed fingers into his hair. And he wonders like he did then and only ever to himself, how cruel it is that he cannot be something more for her. How unfair it feels for such sunshine to be surrounded by a storm.

He had smiled, though. Half-assed and minimal. Pulled her closer, so she sat more comfortably across his thighs. The grin barely reached his cheeks, never mind his eyes. “How strange, to dream of you even when I am wide awake.”

Her snort loud had punched the air. “Poet now, are we?”

“For you, I’ll be anything.”

More words had surrounded it, not spoken, but there. I’ll do anything, be anything. I’ll try, I’ll—

Unsure how else he could keep such a thing, unsure how he can keep perfection curled up against him, who’ll remind him his demons are only self-inflicted.

“Maybe just be you. You, are plenty enough.”

He had sneered, chin dipped, shame blooming.

“Hey,” she says urgently, fingers hooking under his chin as she drags his eyes to hers. “You are, Javi. And I’ll be reminding you of that until I have no words left in my mouth.”

“Be a while then, with how much you talk.”

Even as she pinched him, he pressed how he didn’t deserve her against her lips, against her cheek, neck and collarbone. Not that she took them. Ripped them instead, shredded them.

“You don’t have to pretend with me.” Her fingers then glided across the back of his neck, head rested against his. “Because, you know, Javi, there’s nowhere or no one else I’d rather be sat on…”

A beat passed, one he waited for, fingers brushing over her skin. “…crushing.”

He laughed then.

Because she always pulls laughs from him like it’s the easiest thing in the world. Like he’s a soul full of joy, happy. Like he wasn’t a man who had spent a decade around destruction, misery and streets filled with scarlet, weighed down by it.

She makes it lighter. In the same way, she calms him at night and he thanks her for it in the morning.

Like he’s doing now. Licking his thumb before he presses it to her clit, swirling, forcing her pussy to draw around him, to hold his cock as tightly as he needs, sucking him in, gasping for more as her breasts bob with each thrust, and her mouth falls open in a silent moan—

“Close, m’close, Javi. Fuck, baby—”

He presses his mouth to the juncture of her neck, feeling her attempt at vocalisation. Letting it vibrate against his lips, tingle. Proof that he’s awake, that this is real, that in any moment things won’t turn—

“Fuck, you’re so pretty,” he groans, pressing kisses, dotting them in a pattern like stars in the sky. “Feel so good around me...”

She whines. A noise he banks in his mind, a jar full now—one that sparkles and shimmers.

“You feel good too.”

“Yeah?”

Nodding, hands sliding around his neck, digging into the hair at the base of his neck. “Always make me feel good,” she slurs.

Javi hooks her leg over his waist. A new angle, one that drives him deeper, as she clenches and he snaps his hips to hers. Feeling her close to snapping, her thighs already shaking, trembling. His chest heaving, her ribs expanding, copious breaths to still the dizziness she inflicts on him—just by being, just by existing.

It’s building, that fire in his veins, the fever that spreads out of him when he releases inside of her and she tugs him close as she comes down from her high. His hips stuttering, his name a symphony that erodes all other noises from his dreams.

And, there’s nothing blue about this. Nothing despairing, melancholy about this, about her.

Not when she flutters and arches when she comes and uncoils. Her fingers dig into whatever part of him she can get to before he smears himself inside of her, groaning into her neck as he spills and thinks of nothing but how much he adores her.

How much he loves her. Because he does. He loves her, he loves her, he loves her.

“I love you too,” she whispers from underneath him, his head pulling from her neck—elbows on either side of her face.

Finding seriousness staring back, her fingers skating over the sweat sliding down his forehead, wiping it on the sheets she lies on.

“Unless you hadn’t meant to say it. Then I take it back.”

He blinks. Thinking of the summer’s day when he’d first seen her; the first rainfall two months later when his arms had wrapped over her front, pressed her back to his chest and they felt the cooling air slide over their warm skin. He remembers the night he’d told her everything, and the new candles that had become stumps as she listened; the stormy afternoon turned night when he’d taken her out of town, and how her hand had slid over his and thanked him.

“I meant it.”

Her lips slide into her cheek, palm pressing to his chest. “Good.”

He wonders over morning coffee, when she glances at him and smiles if his dreams are merely a reflection of his fears—rather than anything that could come true. A manifestation of his fears of losing her, fearing the day when the blues will no longer be just dreams. Because good things don’t always, least of all to those who don’t deserve it.

He blinks them away when she tells him she has something to show him, hearing her bare feet on the floor until he doesn’t, counting, reaching twenty, before she appears, a new canvas in hand.

And when she turns it, letting it face him, his breath is stolen—feet forcing him to stand.

Her hand held it, the brightest shades that could ever be. Mixed brushstrokes into something that heals a crack in him, one that he’s never asked for. Because in every shade but blue is him and Pop outside the ranch, a place that had never felt like home, but now feels like the only place he could ever call such.

“Where are you?”

She blinks, the slightest frown in her brows. “What… what do you mean?”

“You belong there too, cariño.”

And if she hadn’t believed him in bed, in the things he’s not said, he thinks she believes them now. Leaning the canvas against the counter, feet padding towards him before her mouth is on his—different, more necessary, as his arms slip around her waist.

Something else slid back into place, able to fill his lungs a little easier.

Not a shade of blue in sight, not indigo, powder or sky.

And he worries it’s temporary—a thing that’ll change come nighttime. But he smiles all the same, right against her hairline when he presses a kiss there too. Feeling her hand sliding around his waist, becoming an anchor, a rock, a crutch.

He loves that about her too, that she does that for him. But he’ll tell her that tomorrow.

A silent promise, one beginning to stitch with a smile. And, then, when nightfall comes, and the painting rests against the wall of his room, Javier Peña finds—for the first night since he’s been back—that he doesn’t dream in blue.

Instead, he dreams in yellow. In honey, citrus and sunshine.

#javier peña x reader #javier peña x you #javier pena x reader #javier pena x you #javier pena fanfic #javier pena fanfiction #javier peña smut #pedro pascal character #javi peña #javier peña #javi peña x reader #javi peña x you #javi peña smut #narcos fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfic

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cloudiinumaki · 3 months ago

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find his love — megumi fushiguro

NOTES ! — not bothered to make an intro post, i don't really have much to say other than just take this and enjoy lol (or don't idk). requests are open ! WARNINGS ! — no warnings! unless you hate me writing in all lowercase, then my bad ...

people sometimes wonder how you can be so happy as megumi's partner. he's quiet, reticent and seems quite cold to most, and so they doubt how possible it is that the two of you have managed to stay so peacefully together. it's much more simple than people make it out to be, honestly. you just pay attention to his actions.

you were never surprised or off-put by the fact that megumi was not one for sprawling, poetic love confessions (almost relieved in fact, it'd become quite tiring…) or for constant physical affection or romantic words. when you'd gotten to know him at first, and found yourself in the unlikely scenario of falling for him, that hadn't been what you were aspiring for. still, it's not as if he's entirely uncaring: he'd be a fool if he weren't to make it clear to you how much he appreciated you. it's just that his love is more of the subtle type than the flashy gestures some are so expectant of.

his love for you is in many quiet things: the way he has to be close to you, even in public, so he settles with standing next to you, his hand not moving away as you subtly brush yours against his. nobara, yuji and gojo are all horrible teases, so admittedly, he isn't very affectionate in public at all, but he still makes sure he's somewhat near— whether that's more for him or you is up in the air.

his love's in how he orders for you from your favourite cafe without hesitation the moment it seems clear that you don't feel like the extra social interaction, quickly rattling off the memorised order so he could return back to you. (and when he returns with your incredibly specific order made just how you like it, don't ask him how he managed to remember all the little details and the two extra pumps of caramel drizzle).

his love's in how after solo missions, if he's not utterly drained or injured, he'll pick up something you like from a shop he passes. it's not something he'll acknowledge for long as he drops the boxed dessert down onto the side table of your room, not wanting to deal with your teasing comments at that and honestly slightly surprised at himself (he swears he wasn't always so obsessed), but he couldn't help but buy it when he remembered how you'd been craving it not too long ago and he had the opportunity right in front of him.

simply put, most of these are silent actions from him, much easier than articulating the feelings that have clung to his heart insistently for so long. it doesn't mean that he won't tell you those three words he knows you've been wanting to hear; but, until he can manage saying them and fully expressing his long-held feelings, he knows that these actions make it easy enough for you to realise anyway.

#megumi fushiguro #fushiguro megumi #megumi x reader #jujutsu kaisen megumi #jjk megumi #jujutsu megumi #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jjk drabbles #megumi x reader fluff #megumi fluff #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #i hate tags just find my work telepathically if u fw it man

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dawndelion-winery · 1 year ago

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Tripping Into Love

Clumsy confessions and the silly things they do for you

Ft. Capitano, Dainsleif, Diluc, Kaeya, Pantalone

Capitano:

He knows better than to charge in without a plan

At least he thinks he does, which is why he's begrudgingly forking over a hefty portion of his personal funds to Pantalone in exchange for information about you

He didn't stop to think how odd it might be for him to know things about you when you've never told him

Honestly, the only reason you probably haven't told him to piss off for being a creep is because you like to think you know him well enough to know he wouldn't have any unsavoury intentions

That and his reputation as the esteemed captain

He does panic when you question where he got the information from though

He doesn't know Pantalone have you a heads up simply to have the joy of watching Capitano squirm

"Did...didn't you?" Capitano stammered. "Perhaps I heard it from someone else, I could've sworn I'd heard somewhere that these were your favourite flowers."

You were cackling internally, of course, knowing his informant. Not that you'd tell him that; he could stew in his panic for a while longer until he finally mustered the courage to ask you out explicitly.

Dainsleif:

You were only joking when you said he should act more knightly

Sure he'd said there was no point since the fall of his nation meant all titles and status were irrelevant

But that's pretty hard to believe when he's practically bending over backwards for you

It was hard not to notice his efforts, honestly, with how curt and cavalier you knew he could be

Yet there he was, offering you his knee as a footstool for your comfort

"Dain, this isn't what I meant when I said I'd love to see you get on one knee."

You looked at the bough keeper quizzically. In return, he only gave you his usual, impassive expression as he insisted. "You're tired, it is a knight's due duty to ensure his companion's comfort."

You'd protest if it hadn't been for the faintest of blushes dusting his uncovered cheek, his gaze averting subtly in a momentary flicker. So you sat on his thigh, resting your head on his shoulder with a soft thanks as you shut your eyes, leaving the ex-captain swallowing hard as he stilled his aching heart.

Diluc:

Mondstadt's most eligible bachelor? Or most rizzless?

Sure, he's got the money to send you gifts and little tokens of his affection as he courts you

And yes, it's sweet to receive bouquets and desserts that remind him of you

What's less than ideal is the love letters he sends

You find yourself compared to the most questionable of descriptors that you're not sure if he likes you

I mean, did he seriously compare you to his deceased pet tortoise?

Years of living like a social recluse has scuffed all sense of tact he might have had

"Master Diluc-"

"Just Diluc is fine, love."

You blinked slowly, noting the way a faint blush crept up his cheeks, thinking he was slick with sneaking in a little pet name for you (he wasn't). It was hard to tell him relating you to the soil in the winery wasn't the most romantic declaration of his affection when he seemed so proud of himself. Admittedly, you were somewhat proud of him for coming out of his shell to court you too. But this!! This wasn't it.

"I don't need you to try to be poetic, Diluc, a simple 'I think you're lovely' is enough."

"Oh."

Kaeya:

Remember those poetry lessons he got from Venti? (Well not really but still)

Venti was peerless when it came to his songs, so naturally, you were quite enchanted with his performances

And of course, why wouldn't Kaeya think serenading you would be a good way to win your heart?

Unlike Diluc, he's much more delicate with his words, weaving them to flatter you best

Yet it's not quite what piqued your interest in him

Sure, it's poetically romantic and all, but it didn't really feel like him

It was moreso his banter with his estranged brother that you found endearing

"Care for a refreshing beverage on this fine day? My treat, of course, the Angel's Share has a new series of fruit mocktails that are just perfect for the weather, and I'd love to try then with you."

You hadn't expected master Diluc himself to stop the both of you at the entrance - well, he stopped Kaeya, at least. "Isn't it a little early for you to be drinking? As I recall, it's office hours for the Knights of Favonius right now."

"I have the day off, am I not allowed to drink in the company of my lovely companion?" Kaeya quips, gesturing to you.

"So you're being a bad influence?"

"We're not here for alcohol."

Diluc looked at Kaeya doubtfully, glancing in your direction as though to gauge if Kaeya was bluffing.

Oh woe is you who has to see Diluc burning holes into the back of Kaeya's head as he moniters his brother on a date.

Pantalone:

Money can buy anything.

Except your affection, it would seem

Sure, you enjoy the gifts, and it's nice to be spoilt

But he wants you to look at him the way he looks at you

Worse still is how he's conflicted about making use of his intelligence network to dig up information about you

"it'd ruin the process of getting to know (you)" he says

Which leaves him squeezing time into his schedule to spend with you against his better judgement

He's totally not slaving through his work to make time for you

He's nothing if not opportunistic though

Will most definitely take advantage of any concern you show

"Eyebags? No, no, I doubt I have those, but if you insist, why not come a little closer to check?"

All you'd said was he looked a little tired and haggard, and suddenly he has you in his chambers, sitting on his satin sheets as he lays his head in your lap. After all, if you were so concerned about whether he was resting, surely you wouldn't oppose helping to make sure he got a good sleep, yes?

Taglist: @myluvkeiji @aqui-soba @favonius-captain @tiredsleep @raincxtter @gensimping-for-all @irethepotato @almond-adeptus @mx-kamisato @chaosinanutshell @heizours @haliyamori @callmemeelah @sadlonelybagel @plinkuro @thevictoriousmoon @mastering-procrastinating @cxlrose @astrequa @eowinthetraveler @ajaxstar @boundedbyfate @the-lost-anime-dad @moonbyunniee @greyrain23 @heavenlyfloof

Commissioned by @monstersealclubber

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pomefioredove · 6 months ago

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hiiii I would like to ask for headcanons for pomefiore when they discover that her s/o fem is actually an angel ~ but mc doesn't behave exactly like one, she is unruly, cheerful and doesn't like to follow orders even so she has this warm aura that radiates ksks I'm sorry if it's a complicated idea, that's all, thanks in advance

since this page is for gender neutral reader only, I'll be writing for that. I use you/yours pronouns so essentially nothing changes :) thank you!

I feel woefully unprepared to tackle the idea of what it means to be an angel, assuming this is the loose pop culture-y definition rather than a specific religious one, I hope I do alright?

summary: angel s/o type of post: headcanons characters: vil, rook, epel additional info: short, romantic, reader is gender neutral, reader is not specified to be yuu, established relationship

𝐕𝐢𝐥 𝐒𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐞𝐧𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐭

there are two clear, distinct sides to you:

the elegant, radiant, otherworldly one, that of which captured his attention in the first place

and the unruly one which doesn't care to listen to a thing he says

it was, perhaps, your potential that drew Vil to you. after all, he'd never met anyone with such a distinct... glow

...as in, an actual glow

he'd truly never come across such a powerful force of energy, and for a while, he was determined to mold it in his image

obviously, that didn't get him very far

if anything, finding out the truth made him feel a little bit better about his inability to tame you, so to speak

the reality of knowing he'd have to mold to fit you is a daunting one, though perhaps it's you who has a thing or two to teach him about beauty

𝐑𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐇𝐮𝐧𝐭

he already knows

"what do you mean he already know?" he already knows

Rook isn't being poetic or figurative when he calls you his ange

from the very first moment he set eyes on you, he knew something was quite different

the sort of beauty you possess is one he's never encountered before, something not of this world

it's purely radiant, warm, captivating

of course he has to know more about it

over time, he finds himself enthralled by your personality, as well

it so starkly contrasts your elegant and gentle look, does it not?

you're unruly, upbeat, almost wild, in a sense, which only serves to draw him in further

a mystery he aims to solve

𝐄𝐩𝐞𝐥 𝐅𝐞𝐥𝐦𝐢𝐞𝐫

okay

so... maybe he's been a little oblivious

he could never quite seem to understand the strange looks and comments Vil and Rook kept making about his s/o, why they continued to stare as if you'd grown two heads

you're pretty, sure, anyone can see that!

it was that sense of grace and warmth that drew Epel closer in the first place

but were you really such a sight that his housewarden (and vice) felt the need to give each other odd looks every time you were in the room together?

it almost made him feel insecure, even though you'd chosen him

besides, Vil was always commenting on how you two were peas in a pod; completely resistant to authority, running wild like animals

so, the big reveal comes as a surprise to him

...but also a relief

and he's honestly pretty okay with it

might be a little intimidated at first, but... it's still you

#twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #queued #vil schoenheit x reader #rook hunt x reader #epel felmier x reader #didn't expect to get so into epel's part tbh

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adeptus-nonsense · 11 months ago

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humans are poets as well as warmongers

Humans nowadays are well known far and wide in this galaxy. Mostly because they are some of the most chaotic, Stupid or bold "daredevils" around (think i used that word correctly).

While i do recall my first meeting with the humans very V E R Y badly since i served in the contact wars when the Graktuka a well known theocratic empire and very influential and politically strong contender in the galaxy stumbled across human colonies. They saw this as an hostile action since the planet they were settling were a holy world, That however is a story for another time.

Just know that the Graktuka empire shrunk by a significant margin to the point where they asked for militairy support. The humans had apparently developed a kind of magnetic accelerated firing plattform piercing through multiple layers of hull completely ignoring shields. Given that Graktuka empire relied on shields since most of the galactic arsenal is plasma based but their hull wasn't weak at all. Unconventional weapons had to be used to even dent their armour. Realising that the humans ships were massive but rather primitive and slow a ground based invasion was seen to be the optimal way off going.

If you were there you would know why humanity is as feared as they are. Masters of the what did they call it? Art of war? Yeah something like that. Fields of bombs buried into the ground detonating with a light step. Weapons dedicated to injure soldiers just enough to save them but not kill them in order to make the invader spend more resources on saving said soldier.

Even our bases of operations with shields were not safe, let me tell you if you think regular humans can cause damage to stuff by touching things dont even get near trained saboteurs with your stuff. They break things in a ways that seems like a simple malfunction and will work after a simple repair. When the shield generator first broke down i thought i could fix it in a matter of minutes, I still havent fixed it to this day and i have taken that thing apart thousands of times without finding the fault.

safe to say we lost that war and this is just one one planet. This was the short part. Just be glad that they pack bond with just about anything. Saw a human carry a cleaning unit and named it "Ronald the Roomba" And that is apparently our ships mascot. But this is things we all are aware of. Let me tell you of their poetic side

This is not something most of us see as common knowledge about humans, but their cultural aspect besides war is for a lack of better words beautiful. This thing they call music.

for all their wars they know how brutal they are and write songs about everything they did wrong and how they wished how they could change it. But that is not all, according to human Jakob music portrays emotions and ones feelings in a way that regular communication doesn't and you dont even need to understand the words to understand the emotion said piece is carrying. Which i know to be true, it's almost therapeutic

I think My log of it will be a better way to describe since it is honestly hard to describe [alltough be careful their music is quite loud for most prey species]

Year 4574 human sector 456854 log 1 of service leave. I am currently here on a passion project of mine. While the war has ended 6 years ago off now the tensions do still exist. Me and some comrades in service are taking some time off and going to what humans call a bar and apparently there is a human performing. I have no idea of how this is gonna go. All i know is humans are incredibly chaotic especially when intoxicated. Still i should probably record this for the culture scientists at social scientific hub.

Log 2

*murmur and loud talking in the background at the bar*

"for clarifications sake, my name is Groakslo, i am here with my two comrades Kyukla and Telosa. We are currently at the bar only to see that humans are actively drinking poison, i was quite shocked to hear this and asked if it isn't dangerous and the bartender said and i quote "nah we gucci" note to self find out what gucci is."

Log 3

"the humans were beginning to get rowdy and even slight outbursts of violence did occur but nothing the surprisingly loud bartender couldn't handle by a very concerning threat, followed by him saying that the band is preparing so settle down. Telosa and i looked at each other very confused but still awaited this "band"

Log 4

"the band arrived and started to set up weird things, long instruments with metal strings, of varying thickness, i asked the a human who were close by what they were and he said instruments. I asked what they were used for and he said to play music. I was getting nowhere and decided to see for myself what they were gonna do."

Log 5 (i decided to be quiet for this one)

"welcome folks and aliens of all sorts shapes and kinds! Thank you for coming to this bar for our first debut our name is The Lines In between, and for those who dont know human music, we'll slowly lean you into it with this first on and it is namned Memories beneath the stars" [3 hours of music recorded]

Final log (yes i know i could voice record but i want to write while the memory is fresh i'm bad with words)

I never knew that humans could make such songs. Telosa and Kyukla was particurlarly affected. The song was as the name suggest the memories we made sneaking out to watch the stars as younglings, reminiscing about the times when the stars were the most unknown, adventure filled and beautiful place to be in. But also about the connections they've lost over the years, the good times wiped away like a water slowly polishing a stone into sand. It was odd, beautiful calm, sad all at once.

The voices i heard when i fought humans in war can not even be compared to that of the singer in that band, what is most perplexing is that the once borderline rioting bar was completely quiet when the band was performing, almost as if in a trance completely captured by the singers voice, smooth, rough, raspy but controlled in a way i thought impossible. A song about 4 human minutes somehow managed to capture the full emotional spektrum of not only humans but multiple species in that bar.

Humans truly are an astounding species. Truly a species that are on all of the extremes, stupidity, ingenuity, violence, poetry and many many more. For now i'll sign off and hope you at the social cultural exchange fellas have a field day with the music file attached to this.

Grokslo, highly decorated former geothermical shield generator militairy specialist.

#humans are space oddities #humans are space australians #humans are space fae #humans are space orcs #this is my firsy real post and more to come :)

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eldritch-spouse · 3 months ago

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Shags' obsession that mistakes him as a cryptid when they first saw him in the forest. They think he didn't spot them at first but starts slowly messes with them as his obsession writing journal entries and studies him like any cryptid hunter. I'm tempted to write this myself.

[Hey, as if I'd stop you from writing that. 👀]

Shags takes this as the ultimate compliment.

It's quite poetic that, in his somewhat reclusive existence dedicated to art and seeking the more supernaturally inclined entities out there, Shags himself has become something of a cryptid, at least to you.

Truly, the shroom's intent was not to frighten when he first took note of you. It's just that, humans don't fare all that well in this forest. They get lost easily, become delirious with panic and dehydration, Shags usually extends a helping hand towards them in their state of desperation, brings them home, cares for them. They hardly leave, but oh well, the end they're offered is gentler than one brought on by rashes and infections, by encounters with less courteous beings. No one wishes to die lost and alone.

Instead, as he silently studied you from afar, not only does Shags finds himself noticed, you gasp and rapidly snap a picture of him before he can so much as open his mouth, disappearing into the foilage.

Shags feels almost embarrassed to admit that he got "into character" far too easily. It was fun, keeping to the very edges of your peripherals, making a noise here or there, whispering something out of sight. He would leave you small, cryptic presents, pieces of his art, or simply splotches of his ink around your trailer.

You're brave too. Shags is not the type of monster that scents fear, but he knows you're moments from acquiring a brand new brown pair of pants when you clumsily stalk him through the forest. He pretends not to know a thing, to simply drift around and act in bizarre patterns, before finally turning and making it quite clear that he's "sensed you" somehow.

By far, his most interesting find was your journal. It's not particularly hard to break into your trailer, honestly. Or snag the backpack you keep stupidly close to the window. He's so very delighted to find sketches of him, blurred photos, vague descriptions of what you theorize he is and sporadic notes on his behavior. You seem to be particularly concerned with determining his level of intelligence and disposition. 'Benevolent?? Neutral?? Territorial marks, possibly warnings to stay away? Gift or warning?' He devours every incoherent scribble.

You'll be away for a while, Shags knows your routine by now. Which is why he dips one of his spindly fingers into the underside of his cap and poises over a new page, ready to leave you with another cryptic little signal.

He's having so much fun.

#Shags oc

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chirpsythismorning · 2 years ago

Text

I just realized that in s5, instead of a parallel to Mike breaking down with Hopper and just doing that again, I want one with Mike and Jonathan.

Something interesting about Jonathan is that he tends to be pretty quiet in situations where literally everyone is being critical of Mike, notably in the scene at Hopper’s canon when he blurts out that he loves El. That whole scene everyone is ganging up on him, most notably Nancy, but the whole time Jonathan is just staring at Mike, deep in thought…

We also know he witnessed A LOT in s4 in regards to Will and just the whole truth of the situation might be closer to him then we realize. Like for example, even though we didn’t see Mike’s expression in the van scene after the painting reveal, with it being blurred from our view, Jonathan on the other hand did see it. He also was there for that and the monologue at SB where he basically just used Will’s words to try to save El. And so what does Jonathan think about that?…

While I know the expectation for a lot of fans is that Jonathan like hates Mike bc of him hurting Will as of the last year or so on a couple notable occasions (now El too presumably), I think there is still something complex about their relationship that would make for a pretty epic television.

Not saying the scene couldn’t start out with some clashing and stuff, bc I mean after all the literal same thing happens with Hopper and Mike in s2. The scene starts confrontational and emotional only for Mike to start sobbing and literally fall into Hopper’s arms for comfort. Even in the following scene he chooses to stay close to Hopper’s side, like it’s clear his outburst had less to do with Hopper ‘lying’ and more to do with all of his bottled emotions coming to head in that moment. And in the company of a man that he looks up to, who is basically seeing him at his lowest.

And I think Jonathan and him having a moment like this, in their own way, maybe related to El again like the talk with Hopper, but I think it ending with it being about Will and Mike breaking down again, maybe thinking Jonathan hates him and then turning it on himself like no one hates me more than I hate myself for how I feel. Or just him basically getting emotional over a similar situation to s2, but us basically getting the Will side of it this time, which would essentially re-contextualize the s2 scene as well.

Another reason I think this scene would be incredible honestly, is because Finn very clearly looks up to Charlie, with him literally following him around on set and you can just tell they have a very close bond that would make for incredible chemistry on screen as Jonathan just like Hopper (arguably even more so), is in this male position of someone that Mike looks up to, who also knows sides of him that quite frankly no one does, it has the ability to be a really emotional and gratifying moment.

Maybe Jonathan is being a little bit curt with Mike and it leads to an argument of some sort. Though it ends with something along the lines of Mike just breaking down and Jonathan comforting him like I never hated you Mike and him just holding him and them talking about their true feelings about the situation.

Mike’s never gonna get that sort of deep and emotional bond with his father, so it feels almost poetic that he’d have these moments with the two men in Will’s life who’ve also had a huge impact on Mike’s life as well and who he will be tethered to forever as family bc of his relationship with Will.

I need it and I need it yesterday.

#byler #stranger things

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viviennevermillion · 2 years ago

Text

With an s/o who is a writer

notes: so we have this now

contains: character x gn!reader, established relationship

characters included: leona kingscholar, rook hunt, idia shroud, malleus draconia

warnings: none

dark content creators & consumers do not interact

Okay so Leona is like, the last person in the cast who'd be into creative writing if it wasn't for the fact that he was dating a writer but he's supportive. He's got the spirit. Even if he has different priorities.

Literally comes into your room, sees you sitting at your laptop and working on a story and he's like: "Are ya winning?" He pulls a chair next to yours and rests his head on your shoulder, looking at your draft with you. "Tf am I supposed to be winning?", you chuckle and ruffle his hair, gently scratching his ear in the process. "I don't know, the recognition of the internet people or something. You were the one who said 'Spite can be a great writing motivation' if I recall correctly", he shrugs and presses a kiss to your cheek. "It's not a competition, you know?", you laugh and get up, shoving your chair to the side to sit on Leona's lap instead.

He doesn't mind just wrapping his arms around your waist and letting you sit on his lap while you write. He'll read along and rest his head on your shoulder from behind, wrapping his tail around you as well. Now you have a clingy oversized cat attached to you while you work on your latest project. Congrats. He probably falls asleep halfway through, not that you'd mind.

It took a while for you to feel comfortable to show Leona your writing, because the second prince of Sunset Savannah could be quite the judgemental person. Leona would never mock anything you cared about as soon as he started dating you but seeing his demeanor towards other people still made you hesitate. But Leona has been supportive of you ever since you talked to him about your passion, even if he doesn't quite get it. Honestly be glad Leona isn't someone who'd ever start writing because he's inspired by you, he would turn this into a competition.

If you post your works online, Leona makes an account on whatever platform you post them on solely to follow you and support you. If you work on something for several hours and get less notes than someone with two paragraphs Leona is more frustrated than you.

He originally just wanted to support you but he finds himself surprised at how the plot of your stories actually intrigues him and he's curious what happens next.

If you write poetry, he's less involved. He just doesn't get poetry. He's like "why don't they just say what they mean?"

If you ever get Leona to write anything it'd be literate roleplay. Only joins because you asked him but gets really into it halfway through. Wants to make his character cool and wants him to fight the other characters. He's like "this is my character, he's a king and he can do whatever he wants-"

Leona's stylistic device is using poetic descriptions in the same sentence with words like "bastard" and "shitfaced" and he somehow manages to actually pull this off

You took him to tabletop night with Idia and Azul once and he got himself perma-banned from Board Game Club because he fucked with their nerves so much that they never wanted to see him there again.

He's worried you might be mad at him at first. "Nah it was kinda funny", you reassure him, "though if we ever do this again it should probably just be the two of us..." Leona chuckles and pulls you close, pressing a kiss to your temple.

Rook writes poetry himself and he loves the arts so he's so on board with this.

But, listen. Rook is that one reader every writer wants but few of us actually get. He reads literally anything you write ever and he responds by sending you like a whole essay of his thoughts on the characters and the plot in depth and how it made him feel.

"Beauté", Rook tears up and pulls you into a hug, kissing your forehead enthusiastically, "I must thank you, mon chéri / ma chérie, by sharing the work you put your heart into with me and presenting me with the result of your creativity and passion; you have made my heart feel a little more complete and my mind more enlightened. Because you have chosen to let me view the beauty that is your prose and poetry, every day I get one step closer to truly call myself le chasseur d'amour! Truly extraordinary!" He takes your hands into his and looks deeply into your eyes as he tells you this; like he's confessing the full extent of his love to you. He cups your cheeks and kisses your lips softly, trying to convey all the feelings that overwhelm his heart and that words would never do justice to you.

He will gush about your works to Vil and Epel so much that they are tired of hearing about it.

He’d be happy if you tell him your thoughts about his poetry too. He writes a lot of it but he doesn’t really have anyone to talk about it with because most people just don’t get his poetry. But if you keep an open mind and give him some appreciation for what he wrote, Rook is so thankful and excited.

He’s so excited for anything new you write. “Feel free to notify me immediately once you’re finished with your newest chef-d'œuvre, even if it’s the middle of the night and I am asleep”, he smiles at you and kisses your hand.

He’s not kidding, btw

He wakes up in the morning to see you snuggled up against him and he gives you a kiss on the forehead, waking you up softly. “Ugh…just 10 more minutes”, you groan and bury your face in his chest. Rook chuckles and runs his fingertips up and down your back. “You seem very tired, mon cœur”, he whispers and presses a kiss to your lips. You kiss back gently and wrap your arms around him. “Were you working on your newest oeuvre d'art until late at night again?”, he asks and shakes his head. He loves everything you make but he’d rather have you well-rested and comfortable. You confirm his suspicions with a tired nod. “Well, did you finish it?”, he asks. “Yes”, you mumble and try to hide from the rising sun by burying your face in his neck. “Didn’t I tell you to wake me up, so I can read it?”, he gets up and turns on your laptop, carrying it over to the bed so you can enter the password. “I thought you were exaggerating”, you shrugged and opened your finished project. “When have I ever exaggerated?”, Rook asks and wraps an arm around you while his eyes wandered across the document, “you should know best that all I express towards you is nothing but raw, unfiltered honesty.” You sigh. “Right, you have a point.”

Getting to read your newest work literally makes his day. Rook is your biggest fan definitely.

Okay you can't tell me Idia doesn't write fanfiction or at least read it. That man has been through every genre of fanworks.

You write? He admires that. You write fanfiction? Even better.

Send him soul-crushing angst of his favorite characters please, his reactions are so funny. He's like "why would you do this to my poor otaku heart HEFHHSJEHFHSBFDBSNFXNNENNSNR 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭"

He will literally commission you or request from you to write his ideas and surprise him with something he'd love.

He'd be like, kicking his legs and text you his live-reaction.

Idia is one of those people who request from you and make it so hyper-specific that you need to read into the lore of an entirely new game or anime just to even understand what exactly he wants. He'd send you "Can you write angst with this character if his love interest had the blood curse from the hit-game 'Below the 2nd Temple' but if the blood curse made you seek out the 5 goblets of wisdom and then drop dead. What would be their reaction to the one they love dearly leading such a pitiful existence? Oh and can you make the dragon from the sequel 'Below the 3rd Temple' appear at the end when the love interest runs out of horvathian gemstones?" and you sit there like what the fuck did he just say????

He's like "oh it's all on the official forum lore section" as if you're going to read in-depth lore for a game you never played just to write his angsty crossover AU.

"Why don't you write it yourself at this point?", you look at him and sigh. "But I love your works", Idia wraps his arms around you from behind and kisses your cheek repeatedly, pulling you into his lap.

He will absolutely try to bribe you into writing it. He'll offer you kisses and a nice, warm bath and a massage....whether you fall for it is up to you.

But he's so happy when he gets the final result. He geeks out about it to Azul who understands even less about the request than you when you first started working on it.

Idia would also do semi-literate and literate roleplay with you online.

Overall loves that you're a writer and will support you whenever you need it. Idia can actually be pretty creative himself so when you struggle to continue and lack an idea, he might just deliver exactly what you need.

Malleus has read many books throughout his lifetime. Be it biographies, fiction or textbooks about all kinds of topics. Most of them were outdated and the writing style of the novels he’s read has long since gone out of fashion.

Malleus is mostly unfamiliar with the modern way of writing stories. Hell, many of the things he’s read have been written with a magical pen and ink. The Briar Valley castle libraries contain many books that are unique and don’t have any other copies in the whole world. The newer ones were written on a typewriter.

He’s super interested when you tell him you write as a hobby for the first time. He’s seen many printed books since coming to Night Raven College but watching you just pull out your laptop and write a whole story in just a couple of hours is fascinating to him. He lets you sit on his lap and wraps his arms around you. He rests his head on your shoulder or against your head and watches as the words just seem to spill onto the pages. He reads along and asks you a couple of questions in the meantime, still being careful not to distract you though.

“Why did the king say this to his daughter?”, Malleus asks with a surprised expression, “is he hiding something?” You chuckle. “You’ll find that out in about five chapters”, you turn around a bit to be able to press a sweet kiss to his lips. Malleus smiles and puts his hands on his hips. “And when do I get to read those?”, he asks and you let out a sigh. “Only god knows”, you bury your head in your hands, “if the heavens decide to randomly inject me with whatever writer steroids I was on when I wrote the first three chapters, it might be tomorrow after an all-nighter and an unholy amount of coffee. If things don’t go well it could be next New Year’s Day.” “But it’s January…”, Malleus sighs.

He’s always the first to witness all the frustrations that come with being a writer. He finds it amusing but he also hopes you always find the motivation and productivity you want.

If you write poetry, Malleus always reads it with great interest, trying to search for messages within the lines. Before the two of you got together, this was how he’s been trying to look for hints of your feelings for him.

He’s so unfamiliar with the modern world that sometimes he finds out way later that something you mentioned in your works is in fact not a fictional thing you made up. He’ll smile at you and tell you how creative you are for coming up with all this fantastic and wondrous stuff and then you rent an apartment with him to stay at during your fourth year internships. “Wait, you’re telling me roombas are real???”, he just stares at the little apparatus cleaning your living room floor in awe. You raise an eyebrow: “You thought they were fake?” He just stares at you with a slightly confused expression.

Malleus is actually pretty easily motivated to write something himself. And he’s good at it too, given his eloquent way of speaking and writing that has been taught to him at a young age due to him being a prince. He has so many in-depth thoughts, it’s pretty easy for him to make detailed descriptions of something and bring a story to life. He projects a lot too. Like, you know him too well and you just know exactly where the lines in the story about the lonely gargoyle just wishing for a friend or for anyone to care about his feelings come from. But that’s a conversation for another day.

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sightofsea · 1 year ago

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prompt number 25 for those good omens bitches please AND thank you

thank you so much!!! tried to go for angst but failed. ah well, c'est la vie. it's the spirit of the thing.

25. “It hurts…” “what?” “Loving someone who doesn’t love you…”

“Well it does hurt, is the thing," Crowley says, restarting an argument that had been born outside the theater, raised on the way to the restaurant, and had been on a quick gap year over canapés.

Aziraphale stops fussing with the sleeves of his coat. “What?”

“Loving someone who doesn’t love you, it hurts," Crowley clarifies.

Aziraphale goes back to fussing. "Yes, I suppose it does," he says, then shakes his arms out. Perfect. "But I don't see what that has to do with how dreadful that production of Cyrano was."

Crowley holds the door open for him, and all the warm air inside the restaurant is quickly replaced with a brisk chill that bites the nostrils. Aziraphale says a quick thank you, and Crowley goes back to arguing. He walks along with a small jump in his step, shoulders to his ears as if trying to lift himself off the sidewalk. Aziraphale loops an arm around the demon's elbow, to keep him grounded.

"I'm just saying," Crowley says. "I'm all for criticism. Love criticism, me, but I don't think he was being that overdramatic. It really does feel like that sometimes."

"He was wailing!" Aziraphale argues back. "Rending his garments, throwing himself at the walls--I'm just saying, there's something to a subtle performance."

"Sub--subtle performance?" Crowley lets that percolate in delighted disbelief. "Bit rich coming from you."

Aziraphale's jaw pops open, feet's coming to a standstill, and he unhooks himself from Crowley's arm. "What's that supposed to mean?" he asks. It's intended to come off as mildly offended, but lilts a little to the left. Crowley stares at him, and Aziraphale tuts. "Oh...!" He stomps back up to Crowley and hooks their arms together again, bringing them back to their familiar trot. "That is besides the point."

"No it's not," Crowley says. "You love drama. You love those books where they go on in the hillside, waving poetic and, and diving off of cliffs."

"Yes, but that's books," Aziraphale says. "That's fiction in its purest form. This is performance, it must have some grounding in reality. You can't honestly say you've ever acted like that in the name of unrequited love."

Crowley hums, and is quiet for a few moments. They turn into a nearby park, and everybody considered mugging the flash bastard and his posh twat boyfriend suddenly find their wallets heavier and their thoughts elsewhere.

"Maybe I have," Crowley says, all mumbled and high pitched. "Who's to say?"

Aziraphale does a double take. "Really?" Crowley nods, looking straight ahead. Aziraphale hesitantly points to himself. "Over...?"

It's now Crowley's turn to do a double take. "Wh--no, over Napoleon. Yes, over you!"

"Oh, well that makes me feel terrible!" laments Aziraphale, who is beginning to feel something rise up within him that he's too proud to admit to but most would call 'flattered'. "That you did all that screaming and wailing over me."

Crowley shifts as if trying to shed his skin. "Mm."

"All that--all that rending of garments and throwing yourself about." Aziraphale puts his free hand on Crowley's hooked arm. He tuts. "And over me."

Crowley lets put a creaking sound of embarrassment, and tries to wave away his confession with his free hand. "Okay, that's not--"

"That you were overcome by...by such enormous affection and love," Aziraphale continues, near giddy with it now. "For me!"

Crowley stares at him, deadpan. "You're enjoying this."

"I'm not," lies Aziraphale. He schools his face as best he can--which is to say, quite portly. "I'm feeling...quite guilty."

"That's not your guilty face," Crowley says. "That's your...that's a different face. A smug face."

"Not smug," says Aziraphale, smugly.

"Delighted, then."

Aziraphale tuts, shaking his head. "Not in the least. I'm quite overcome with agony, as I imagine you were." Crowley hums in disbelief. "Again, over me."

"Alright, alright," says Crowley, who does his best to gesture wildly with one arm lovingly held captive. "I take it back. I take it all back. There was no wailing or garment rending or any of that. I was perfectly fine with it." He expects a response to come. When it doesn't, he turns to see Aziraphale looking distinctly put out. Something seizes in Crowley's chest, and the words come out before his brain can bar the door. "Okay, I screamed at a tree once about it. Does that satisfy you?"

"Mm," says Aziraphale, still displeased.

"Maybe had a...good cry, or three," admits Crowley.

Aziraphale softens. "Oh, did you really?" he asks, curiosity sliding from smug to concerned.

Crowley bristles at the genuine emotion. "Oh, what, and you didn't?" he asks defensively.

"No, I have," says Aziraphale, soberly. He blinks up at Crowley before surveying the landscape, no doubt imagining lonely nights and cold mornings scattered over many the millennia. Crowley imagines them as well.

"You...so...yeah," he says. He supposes he's won the argument, but it doesn't feel like it. "We both..."

"We've both suffered over each other," Aziraphale says. His voice is heavy with guilt, and not for the first time, the two of them think of the same thing.

Crowley distinctly remembers the slam of the bookshop door, and winces at it. Sounds get clogged in the back of his throat. "Y-Yeah," he says. They walk along another few steps, before stopping. "Not...not any more, though," Crowley adds, half statement and half question. He brings his free hand over Aziraphale's.

Aziraphale squeezes his arm lightly and smiles. "No," he whispers. "Not any more."

Crowley smiles back--because it's dark and there's plausible deniability, because he's in love, who's to say--and moves to cup Aziraphale's face. Aziraphale's already ahead of him. The kiss to short, soft, and simple--a reassurance, more than a declaration. For a moment, there's a break in the chill night air, and all is warm.

They part, and continue their walk in tandem. "You still think the play was shit though, don't you?" Crowley asks.

"Not in so many words," Aziraphale admonishes, which is to say, yes.

#my fic #good omens fic #this was so fun thank you!

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vampcubus · 1 year ago

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Fluffy Yushire Dating headcannons ?

(Anything SFW or NSFW we don’t get enough of this handsome man 🤌🏻)

Thank you if you choice to do this request!

ik my reqs are closed but i need this ok? i love him. still getting a feel for him so bear with me.

𝐘𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐎 𝐑𝐄𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐏 𝐇𝐂𝐒

SFW

— In typical tsundere fashion, Yushiro tries very hard to convince himself (and you) that he doesn't like you one bit at first. But you're just so beautiful, and kind... and intelligent... it was impossible not to fall for you.

— I think it's a given that no matter who or what you are, once you're in a relationship with him you'll be put on a pedestal. It's just natural for him to treat you like some sort of divine being. He is at your eternal service, at your beck and call for as long as you'll have him.

— Yushiro loves fiercely, but he's quite shy. He honestly doesn't expect you to be affectionate with him, which makes his gawking reactions even better. VERY grateful for every loving touch you spare for the demon, almost trembling with excitement whenever you kiss or embrace him.

— He's quick to thank you for these gestures, even when you insist that he doesn't need to.

— Yushiro is the ultimate gentleman, and quite persistent to be as respectful as possible. Opens doors for you, pulls out your chair before you sit, insists on carrying things for you, etc... acts of service is a vital part of his love language, so please, just let him do things for you.

— He's very protective, so much so that he has to bite his tongue if you're a demon slayer. It's not that he thinks you're a weakling, it's just that he wants you to always be safe.

— He's a bit of a nag, but a well-meaning one, always reminding you to be careful and clear-minded when you have to part ways. Ideally, he'd follow you to the ends of the earth and always watches you leave with a wistful expression.

— Possessive! and quite vocal about it. Easily made jealous and tends to lash out when he thinks someone is trying to compete with him for your attention. He bows his head in shame when you scold him for his behavior, but he perks up when you reassure him that no one could compare to him. That doesn't stop him from getting that smug grin on his face when he witnesses you turning down admirers, referring to him as your lover.

— A sucker for the mushy stuff! nothing's too cheesy to him, he swoons no matter how silly you sound waxing poetic to him about your love.

— You're Yushiro's muse and even before you were officially a couple, he was painting you almost obsessively.

— Yushiro always wants to be by your side, no matter what you're doing. Catching up on laundry? he's right there folding with you. Winding down for bed? he's gingerly removing any accessories from your hair and helping you slip into more comfortable clothes. Even if he doesn't eat human food, he'll sit at the table with you so you don't have to eat alone. He'll take a step back if you need some space of course, albeit reluctantly.

— He's always asking if you need anything of him, to which you always say, "Just your company" and he melts every time.

— Take him out on dates!! doesn't matter where to, he's just happy to spend time with you. Whether you're tugging him along to festivals with flashy entertainment, or stargazing in a secluded getaway, he's having the best time. He feels so human in those moments with you.

NSFW

— Yushiro screams service sub to me. He’s ready to sink to his knees and tend to your every need at a moment’s notice. I think Yushiro's sense of shame goes right out the window the moment your voice takes on that domineering tone.

— Wants to worship you, if only to express his devotion to you.

— Yushiro is at his happiest when he's got his head between your thighs, content to lap at your cunt for hours, and gets annoyed if he's interrupted. He's quite skilled with his tongue, only needing a few pointers before he's a pussyeating master. He prides himself on being the best at pleasuring you and shudders violently when you praise him for it.

— An enthusiastic eater that moans against your sex, especially when you grip his hair or grind against his slick tongue. Gets the cutest pink flush on his pale cheeks and this fucked-out expression like he's in his own little world while he fucks you with his tongue.

— Tell him that he's being such a good boy for you and watch his slitted lavender eyes roll back. Yushiro won't ever touch himself without your permission, but sometimes he gets too overwhelmed and cums untouched. He's always so embarrassed when that happens, unable to meet your eyes as a shameful wet spot soaks his hakama.

— Yushiro loves to give, but truly can't handle receiving at all. He's so sensitive to every touch, his body jerking wildly when stimulated. He always rushes to apologize when he accidentally moves without permission and is overall very obedient.

— He's a total hypocrite that tries to tell you that going down on him is dirty, like sir you can't say anything as someone who just ate pussy 🤨 kindly shut up and let me suck your dick til your legs are shaking.

— All protestations die as soon as you take him into your mouth, lips parted and eyes all misty. Yushiro tries to be quiet, whimpering and whining as softly as possible. But he can't help but moan sluttily when he's close to cumming. Always asks where you want him to cum, no matter how fucked-dumb he is <333 so so polite always.

— Yushiro's pretty vanilla by default, but he's open to all sorts of experimentation. Whatever makes you happy! And to that end, I think it would be wise to remind him that he doesn't have to agree with everything you propose. It's pretty easy to tell when he's uncomfortable with something, even if he won't say it outright.

— He gets emotional when you're soft on him. He'll scrub at any tears that spring to his eyes and denies that he's crying at all. You just make him feel so wanted, and he's eternally grateful to be yours. So pile on the praise, tell him how pretty he looks when he's lost in pleasure, call him sweet names, and pepper soft kisses across his pale skin.

— Can't help but tell you that he loves you over and over during sex.

#‧₊🦇˚⊹ ashi writes #yushiro x reader #yushiro headcanons #kny x reader #kny headcanons #sub!yushiro #sub yushiro #female reader #fem!reader #dom!reader #dom reader #n/sfw

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chixkencxrry · 1 year ago

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oh, baby

WARNINGS: SEXUAL THEMES, MENTION OF ASSAULT (NOT BY MIGUEL), ORAL (F/M), CURSE WORDS, EXPLICIT SEX, CUM SWALLOWING, DIRTY TALK. Your consumption of media is on you. Not Proofed.

DO NOT REPOST OR TRANSLATE MY SHIT.

Summary: Miguel O'Hara x Fem! Reader; Miguel was a mystery you'd hardly began to solve. Too bad you were already in love with him.

Two weeks.

It had been two weeks since you last saw or heard from Miguel. Now, you tried not to feel abandoned — per se, but the emotion nagged to the corners of your soul. Miguel was secretive and cagey. You’d just sort of embraced that part of him. It wasn’t like the two of you were in a relationship or anything like that: a fact you have to remind yourself of constantly. You just slept together; sometimes.

He was a mutant like most people in the city; like that Spider-Man kid. But he never got caught on YouTube or anywhere. In fact, if it wasn’t for the marks he left on your skin — you were quite sure you would have thought he wasn’t real.

“I’m tired of you moping around in your apartment.” Your best friend, Tia, had said when she called. “You’re going on the date whether you want to or not.”

Tia’s solution to everything seemed to be getting dicked down. To you, this date wouldn’t even begin to scratch the itch Miguel left behind. Yet, here you were, putting on lipstick and wearing your good lingerie set beneath a new cocktail dress.

“And where are you going?” Snarled a familiar voice, causing you to snap your lipstick in half.

Miguel stood by your window. Black and red suit on but maskless. His face looked worse for wear. Your heart clenched at the thought that he might be hurt.

You wiped your hands and grabbed your first aid kit, exiting the bathroom and jogging to him. “What the hell happened to you?”

He passed his tongue over his teeth; watching you scrambling over him in a little black dress. “Fight. Where are you going?”

“A date.” You didn’t have to answer to him.

“Oh.”

“Yes.”

You padded rubbing alcohol to a nasty scar on his chest. He didn’t even flinch as you cleaned it. “With who?”

“Not sure. Tia arranged it.”

“Plan on fucking him?”

“What the fuck, Miguel?”

“I’m just asking. That dress barely covers your fucking ass, your tits are all the way up to your neck —”

Angry, you poked the bruise until he flinched. “Don’t you fucking start! You disappear for what, two weeks? And just barge in? I don’t even know your last name, Miguel. So yes, I can go out and fuck whoever I want.” You threw the supplies at him and grabbed your bag. “You can clean up yourself you fucking asshole.”

II.

The date went horribly.

You couldn’t blame the guy — he was nice, Peter Something was his name, but he was a little young to you and you weren’t in the mood for a bad decision tonight.

So, you came home alone and cold. Miguel had long since gone. Your supplies had been returned and surprisingly, there was a note at your bedside with some sort of tricked-out cellphone.

My name is Miguel O’Hara. You can contact me on this.

It took you two days to send a message. A bright, sunny June morning. And it wasn’t anything poetic or well-thought-out. A simple hey.

You’d shoved the phone aside and gone on your laptop to teach a few classes. At lunch, when you opened it — you were surprised to see he had responded.

I’m sorry. It wasn’t my place.

Huh.

Damn right.

The reply came instantly; Did you have fun?

Should you lie? No. That was petty. Biting your lip, you twirled your fork in your ramen. What the hell.

Yes, I did.

This reply came slower. Okay.

Another text came in before you could respond. I don’t want you going on dates with other guys.

Your reply was automatic. Did he think you were some well-trained maltose?

Then do something about it.

I plan to, cariño .

It seemed you’d underestimated what those texts had started. Miguel had honestly started to court you. He called you often, even video-calling and you spoke at great lengths about each. Then, the gifts came.

The first was a bouquet of flowers. Carnations, roses and tulips. You had set them on your nightstand. Looking at them every night until they turned brown.

Then, the Nat King Cole record. It was mint and sounded crisp when you played it. A perfect sound and echo.

Miguel was determined.

At least now you knew he was serious. Excitement coursed through you. You liked getting to know him. You liked the vulnerability he shared with you. You liked that you knew his favourite meal, his hatred for his father, his love for his mother – you knew he lost someone he cared deeply about, you knew his aches as well as you knew the curves of his back. The scars healed and were left behind. You cared for this man. You loved this man. That was scary.

The two of you stayed over at each other’s homes on and off. Miguel’s home was clinical and lacked warmth. He had offhandedly said he lived at work and not really here, in this little apartment he showed you.

“Someday, I’ll take you to where I actually sleep.” he’d promised one night, rubbing your feet as you queued up an old movie.

You’d said nothing, not wanting to show him how eager you were for any scrap of information he had to give. You wondered if it was sane; to want someone the way you wanted Miguel. This craving hunger seemed to get the better of you. Was it foolish? To let him in when there was so much pain, so much secretiveness about him.

Could you want something so much it killed you?

III.

You’d taken a summer job when classes had closed down. Waitressing in the city, like you had when you were a grad student. The problem, however, came with getting back home during the night shift. The buses ran till midnight and sometimes, you had to walk home. It was lonely, sure, and you kind of regretted taking the shift. You preferred it being you – older, fewer ties than the other girls with families and who were now getting their degrees. Plus, the late-nighters seemed to tip better.

A cold glock pressed itself to your side – pausing you from moving. Your fingers trembled. “Give me the purse or die.”

Twitchy fingers dug into your fanny purse for your cash, eager to get the fuck away from the psychopath. Then, a flash of colour popped before your eye and the feeling of the glock disappeared. The gun hit the floor and you turned slowly to see the attacker on the ground clutching his throat. Over him stood a familiar black and red, hulking form. Talons dripped crimson and in the shadow of the street light – Miguel appeared fearsome.

Your lips quivered. Words couldn’t wrench themself from your throat. But Miguel turned to you, leaving the man bleeding on the ground.

“I’m taking you home, now.” His voice was a growl. Modulated and unlike the voice you had come to care for. His arms wrapped around you and soon, you were swinging through the city until you met your apartment.

Miguel stripped you and bathed you, tied your hair in a satin scarf and laid you on your bed. You watched him, he seemed laser-focused on you as he tried to make sure you were safe and comfortable. He made that orange tea you liked so much, lit a pine candle and wrapped you in your favorite blanket.

It was when he was half-way out your window that you found your voice. “Stay. Please, Miguel.”

Miguel turned. Removing his mask and suit until he was just in his footlong briefs. “Of course, mi cariño.”

In the morning, Miguel took you to HQ. And boy was that a mindfuck.

IV.

“Empanadas?”

“Beef or chicken?”

Miguel opened the box, took a seat next to you on the park bench, and took a sniff. “Beef.”

“Oh. Yum.” you made grabby hands.

Your boyfriend relinquished them to you, smiling as you dug into one. “So good. I think we should keep coming to this universe just for the food.”

He hummed. “Highly unlikely.”

You licked your fingers and rolled your eyes. Your eyes caught an alley in dark corner and red flushed across your neck. It had been a while since you and Miguel fucked. He wanted to take things at your pace. Sure, he ate you out from time to time and you certainly couldn’t go long without deep-throating his cock but you hadn’t had him deep inside you for a while.

Wiping your hands on your jacket, you placed a hand on his thigh and rubbed a circle. “Mig?”

“Yeah, baby?”

You dropped your voice low and pressed your breasts against his large arm. “Wanna do a quickie in a dark alley?”

Miguel stopped what he was doing and flickered his eyes over you and then back to the alley. “Baby, don’t do this to me.”

“C’mon,” your hand went higher to his groin. “Fuck me like a whore up against a dirty alley wall.”

“Fuck.” Miguel rolled up his sleeve to show his gizmo and in a few taps, you were home.

Your hands were pinned on top of your head by webbing. You showed your teeth and snarled. Though, everything about this was consensual. You liked making things difficult for Miguel. He was about to turn your pussy inside out and you were going to weep on his cock, anyway.

So, yes – you liked making things a little difficult for him. It was your thing. You fought and acted like a bitch and he made you pay deliciously for it.

A hand slapped across your heavy breasts, eliciting a whimper and drawing you from your thoughts. Red eyes flashed down at you, fangs hanging between pouty lips. “I must be doing something wrong if you’re so distracted?”

“Yes.” You answered without hesitation. “You aren’t fucking me.”

Miguel didn’t respond. His hand pinched a hard nipple, sharp talons tracing your skin and making your pussy grow wetter at his teasing. Cupping your pussy, he parted your folds and caressed it — sticky love coating his finger as his thumb rubbed your swollen clit. You buckled beneath his touch.

“Look how that mouth disappears when I’m touching my pussy, cariño .” Miguel kissed your neck; determined to make you come just by playing with your clit. Which wasn’t hard to do. Not when he was pressed against you like this. Kissing your throat and nipping at the swell of your breasts; sucking your nipples as if to draw nectar from them.

You became a wiggling — snivelling thing under him. Fuck. Fuck. Your pussy quivered with the impending fall of your climax.

Arching you back, your mouth hung open as your peak approached. Just as the crescendo reached its high Miguel pulled away from you. Tears burned your eyes as they snapped open to look at him.

“What the fuck?” Your voice came out needy, weak and pleading.

Miguel simply grinned at you, sucking on his fingers. “Are you complaining? Stop being such a whiny little puta.”

Raising your hips, you demanded attention to your pussy. “If you’re going to tease me I might as well take out my vibrator and get the job done.”

“Neta?” The humour in his voice was dry and you felt as though your horny mind had just made a fatal mistake. “You’re going to pay for that.”

Miguel bowed his head and started eating your pussy slowly. Tongue lapping like a cat to cream, he licked from your clit to the end of your slit. Sucking and tonguing your weeping pussy at his own slow pace. Building you up all over again.

He pressed his pretty lips to it, kissing your pussy like it was a precious thing. Then he pressed it to your aching clit. Sucking it slowly, making loud sloppy wet sounds as your hips worked desperately against his face. Miguel made pussy eating a gourmet art.

His index and middle finger pressed into you, sinking into the depth of your carven. You shivered, moaning loudly at the combination.

“Miguel! Oh, please, baby. Miguel! Miguel!”

Moments from it. You felt your release coming before he pulled away again. This time tears fully flowed. “Please, please, please.”

Licking his lips, Miguel showed his fangs, brown eyes dropping to your dripping pussy. He set his hands on your thighs, then rubbed his thumb over your clit before slapping your pussy softly. “Oh. I wouldn’t want to put your vibrator out of business, cariño .”

You groaned. God, if only you’d kept your fucking mouth shut.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry, baby. Just let me have it. Make me come, please baby. I’m sorry. Baby, please.” You were outright begging now. Your voice a pathetic, weak mewl. How the mighty had fallen already.

But that pleased Miguel. He liked you pleading. Liked it when you wanted him so badly it made you insane. Writhing on his bed, tied up and weak for him and only him.

Stretching his body over you, he let his hard cock rub against your wet core as he grabbed the aforementioned vibrator from your bedside. Flicking it on, the purple device vibrated. Then he clicked it up to the highest speed.

You hit your lip; excited to see where this would go.

Miguel went back to his meal. Kissing and sucking your pussy before focusing on your clit again.

The vibrator slowly inserted into your pussy as he sucked your clit. You arched your back, whimpering and moaning as the vibrator went in and out of you. Miguel’s expert kissing and use of the toy had you collapsing in moments, spraying his face with your orgasm.

You felt raw and overstimulated but Miguel kept the toy there even as he raised his head to kiss your breasts. Covering them in bite marks.

You are already mute at his work. He worked the vibrator deep into you so that it would stay there in you as he sat on your face — working the tip of his cock into your open mouth.

“Relax your throat, slut.” He growled, working his cock in and out of your mouth. It was an awkward angle sucking his cock as you lay down. The salty taste of his velvet member was a favorite of yours still. You often told him it was your favourite thing to eat.

The vibrator stayed in you even as you wiggled your hips to try and get it to slip out. The sensitivity of your pussy with its motions and the delicious feel of Miguel fucking your mouth had you trembling.

Looking up at Miguel felt like a religious experience. A god, looking down at you as his balls slapped your chin.

“Look how pretty you look — silent and full of my cock. Fuck. Yeah, suck it like that. Fill up on my cock.”

Miguel held your head, controlling the pace but you made your cheeks shallow and kept your tongue wrapping around him. His member jammed the back of your throat and slid down it, you gagged — naturally but Miguel kept it there for a few seconds before pulling out. He rubbed his head, coated in spit and pre-cum all over your lips.

“Pretty puta. You like sucking my cock? You like being my fucking whore?”

He didn’t give you a chance to respond before slipping the tip in. He slid in and out before pulling out and cumming on your face. A spurt landed on your lips and forehead — barely missing your eye. Miguel slipped it back into your mouth and you sucked the head, swallowing the milk that came from it.

You’d lied before. His cum was your favorite meal. His cock was a close second.

Pulling out from your mouth, Miguel reached forward and sliced the webbing open with his talon. Your hands fell to your sides and automatically went to your face. He removed the vibrator from your messy cunt, planting kisses on the poor, trembling pussy.

Miguel wasted no time and plucking a wet-wipe up from his nightstand and wiping your face clean.

“There’s my pretty girl.” He said with softness. You smiled, kissing his cheek and lips. “How’re you? I wasn’t too rough?”

“There’s my beautiful man.” Your hands trailed his body, all the way to his still hard member. Miguel let you lead, guiding his cock into your trembling pussy. You bit your lip and moaned as his thickness sunk into you. “You weren’t rough enough, baby.”

His head dropped, lips to your ear as he hummed against the familiar feel of your walls. You hissed as he pushed himself to the hilt, kissing your skin. You were sure by the end of the night you’d resemble a leopard. “Let me endeavor to correct that then, cariño .”

Miguel’s hand settled onto your throat as he began to stroke you. His girth stretched you slowly, thickness digging deeper into he attempted to dissolve fully into your warmth. He was being kind to your sensitivity but that kindness ended quickly.

His fingers tightened around your neck, conjuring a gasp. He slipped his tongue into your mouth, kissing you sloppily as his hips picked up a harsh pace. His cock spreading you and burning your pussy with its fever.

“You like stretching out this pretty little pussy? Like me making this a home for my cock, whore?”

His teeth nipped your lips, tongue passing across your jaw before he bite your neck.

“Yes, baby. I like you fucking your little whore’s pussy. Stretch me out.” You whispered, fingernails digging into his impossibly large back. You doubted you broke skin but mania overtook you when Miguel’s cock was inside you.

His hips stuttered, ever so slightly, and you couldn’t help but squeeze your pussy around his cock, rocking on the member.

Miguel placed a hand on your crouch, pushing you down. “Not so soon, cariño .”

Staying perfectly still for a moment, he released your throat and sat on his hunches — forcing you to sit up. Miguel placed a hand at your back and another beneath your buttocks, keeping you up.

The movement, and friction of your clit against his pubes, caused for a shutter of an orgasm to race through you. A little thing like that, made you coat his cock.

Full of machismo, Miguel puffed his chest out and began fucking into you. Hard. “Miguel! Fuck, oh god. Oh god!”

“That’s right, baby. I want everyone to hear me fucking you.”

“Oh god, oh god!”

“That’s not my name baby. Fucking say my name!”

And you did, over and over. Until his name became the only word that would fall from your lips. His thick cock dragged against the walls of your sensitive pussy rough and fast, fucking Miguel was holy. Fucking him was close to heaven.

“Love fucking this pussy, cariño . My tight little pussy. Love spreading it open with my fat cock. Oh, take it baby. Roll those pretty eyes back on this cock. My cock dumb little whore.”

Still sensitive, you came wet and messy on top of him. Miguel followed after, chasing his orgasm with hard, burning thrusts until he came inside you. Laying you on your back, he made a few more jerky thrusts; just to get it all inside you and collapsed on top of you.

He rested on you for a moment, before pulling out, cock bouncing onto his thick thigh. Miguel’s chest heaved, his dark eyes looking over your face. His hand found its way between your legs, rubbing his leaking cum all over your sore pussy — pressing some of it back into it.

You couldn’t help it. You kissed his lips and cheeks. God, you loved this man.

Comments are nice ✨

Master list

#miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o hara #miguel o hara x reader #Miguel o hara smut #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o’hara fanfiction #miguel o’hara fanart #spiderverse #spiderman into the spiderverse #spiderman #spiderman 2099 spiderverse #spiderman 2099 fanfiction #spiderman 2099 x reader #miguel O’Hara x black! reader

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beanghostprincess · 1 year ago

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there's just something so inherently poetic and romantic about zoro's devotion to luffy during all of wano that makes me go completely insane.

he sees luffy for the first time in like a week, which might not seem much but for them, who are used to feeling each other's presence all the time and did not have a good experience with being separated, it's torture to not be together. so of course they go all happy, kicking their feet and blushing when they reunite. then his captain is like "hey, this is tama. tama is our friend now" and zoro takes it extremely seriously and protects that random kid he has no connection to because luffy says so and, well, because she's just a kid and everything, but still i think zoro instantly accepting to adopt tama is really cute.

zoro acts like luffy's enabler during this arc, because his captain might do the most impulsive and reckless shit, and the dude will support him to death. even when he's just competing against kid and law to see who's stronger (or the dumbest), luffy is the most serious he's ever been here. of course, zoro has some moments of "okay, gotta stop this idiot" but it turns out zoro is fucking stupid too, and getting into a fight in the middle of a party while you look for your captain is just,,, so them.

and all of this is just silly moments that make you think "oh, okay, zoro is whipped, yes. we already knew that". but then he pulls the most romantic and poetic things we've ever witnessed in anime history and honestly, i fucking lose it every time he does things like this.

drake goes to them and asks if he can be on their side (btw dude could have just told luffy he knew koby somehow but okay) and zoro instantly goes 'protective first mate' mode and says "haha no the fuck you're not. disloyal people are the worst and you'll always be like that. once you betray someone there's no going back" which is something i love about zoro because, even if from his perspective drake was actually a member of kaido's crew and they're supposed to be the bad guys, zoro respects loyalty so fucking much that he doesn't care whose side are you on as long as you have your priorities and beliefs on the right place. i find that beautiful, especially knowing what comes next.

zoro is gifted a sword that theoretically could cut hell, to then being then perceived as the king of hell for the same reason, and then actually going to the battlefield and referring to it as hell itself because they're fighting to death against two emperors and saying "if you're sending our captain to hell, you'll have to take me with him" because he would quite literally go to hell for luffy. and then the guy goes and tells law "hey, this is going to hurt like a bitch and i might probably die. if that happens, you know, just take care of the rest because luffy trusts you too" and he goes and awakens his conqueror's haki without even meaning to and not even giving a single fuck when kaido tells him because his only ambition and will at the moment is protecting luffy and fighting for him. that, and also the countless times he saves luffy without hesitation during this fight, which are too much to remember but i swear every time he gets in between one of kaido's attacks and luffy, my heart does a backflip and i die. and also, the gentleness in which zoro treats luffy when he can't fight. the way he protects him when luffy puts all of his undying trust on zoro. they make me go wild.

the fact that luffy is constantly saying in this fight (and always, of course) that he's going to be the pirate king and showing it clearly with all of his parallelisms to roger, and then zoro pulling things that make him quite obviously the king of hell, just makes the whole "captain and first mate" thing seem so little for what they actually are. because we have 3 different couples of this kind in this story, and nobody compares to these two, because they're not just a captain and his first mate, they're literally kings. and i haven't watched more (i'm on episode 1030 if you're curious, uta time!) but i'm so excited to see how this develops. especially knowing the religious undertones behind whatever the fuck gear fifth is supposed to be (except for a lil cute and powerful af looney tune).

#anyway i love the way they love #and this is just ZORO's POV #imagine the way luffy acts too around him in wano #i could talk for hours about the amount of trust luffy has on zoro #they're gonna be the death of me #one piece #roronoa zoro #monkey d luffy #zolu #wano

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ioniansunsets · 1 year ago

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may i please have some heartsteel yone/f!reader? i haven't seen much of my beloved producer 🥺

✖ Heartsteel!Yone x Reader ✖

✖ Word Count: 2k

✖ Tags: Long Term Established R/S

✖ A/N: You get together with Yone 10 years ago in Japan. HC Yone as someone who started out DJ-ing at clubs before outgrowing the scene and fading to obscurity online before Heartsteel picked him up.

---- Meeting Him ----

- You met him back in Japan, back when you visited clubs and actually managed to catch his DJ-ing before he quit. It was underground but it was unique. Experimental stuff that just somehow still sounded so damn good to you. You found yourself drawn to him and eventually going up to talk to him during a break between sets. He fell in love with you shortly after, he had a small but loyal fanbase and having someone like you appear at every single one of his performances really weakened the walls around his heart.

- You spent college dropping by any of Yone's appearances throughout your fall quarter and as school went on and as winter break came over, you finally found the time and energy to hang around and visit his other appearances too. Some fun mall gigs, cute online streams in the day, even managing to land a dj-ing gig at a local dance competition. You could tell it was hard, he had a distinctive style that was as much a pro as it was a con and eventually he faded away from performing at all in person.

- It was his 'Final Performance' so the speak. That late night in the club, a drink in hand, bright smiles as you had fun with you friends while watching the elusive masked dj on his little stage. It was his final performance. Now or never to confess your love for both him and his music, your nerves straight ice as the night slowly drew to a close. Unbeknown to you, he too, felt exactly the same as he watched you from the stand. The passing comments and small conversations the two of you shared over the months left him yearning for something more with you.

- And it was sweet when it finally happened. Uncharacteristically gentlemanly coming from a DJ. You stayed as the club begun to close, Yone walking up to talk to you just like any other time a friendly conversation before he offers you a small giftbag, softly telling you its a personal Christmas gift for his most loyal supporter, telling you to open it when you're home. You thank him, pushing yourself to exchange numbers with him so you can give him feedback when you're home safe. You curse as you miss your chance to confess in the heat of the moment.

- As you return home, you pull a thin package beautifully wrapped in the little bag. You unwrap it to find a homemade mixtape, all of your favorite songs from him paired with special unreleased works that he think you would like. How he even managed to know which were your favorites shocked you honestly. As you look into the bag further a sweet handwritten note confessing his budding love for you neatly written in decorative paper falls out. Poetic words with the neatest handwriting, you could swear the paper itself was scented too. Your heart races as you listen to the CD while reading the pages of his feelings. The first thing you ever messaged him was a cute " Yone, I love you too." Which Yone has graciously screenshotted and looked back on often over the years.

---- Heartsteel / Dating ----

- You two are the loving parents of Heartsteel, the comforting consistency, the caring confidants of the group. There was just something nice about seeing Yone and his partner of almost ten years still going strong in such a stable relationship that causes all the boys to look at you with such respect. You have fun with them all, you work hard late nights supporting Yone and his work, you look out for him as he looked out for you. You were as much part of the gang as he was.

- Surprisingly Yasuo loves you just as much (platonically), he's happy to see Yone just genuinely be so at ease around you, to have someone be there for his brother that can actually make the man relax? You have his approval. After moving on and joining True Damage, Yasuo would worry seeing Yone so alone, so having you appear and provide his brother with such companionship made him happy. Though, Yasuo does tease Yone a lot, every time you meet him he always asks you if Yone has proposed. He can't understand how you two have been together so long yet not gotten married.

- Dates with Yone were always so calming. Bringing you out to hot spring inns during stressful times, inviting you to cute hidden cafes to work together, comforting jamming sessions late night at his place if money was tight. Nothing embarrassingly over to top yet not so casual that you felt like the two of you weren't doing anything special. There was just something about the way he just knows what you need. As the years went by you realized it was just how Yone was, he was an attentive guy and especially so when it came to you.

- Also it was no secret that Yone looked at self care as a priority and slowly you picked up on his little habits too. Simple yet small adjustments to your own habits. The way you two would go through the motions of burning incense and making tea early in the mornings for a quick meditation and mindfulness session. The loving way he would cook healthier meals for you, how he would be the one buying bath and beauty products, how he would motivate you to follow him to Kendo lessons to exercise, how he would leave books filled with comments on post-its around the house for you to read when you had time. The softest part was how he never seemed disappointed even if you said no to any of this, he was caring and patient after all, he'll win you over into self help eventually.

- The biggest change with the new popularity of Heartsteel was seeing the sheer number of fans Yone started to get. You almost forgot what it was like being his fangirl honestly, so used to your life with him after his semi-retirement, it was weird suddenly being thrown back to your college days of being in love with that DJ at the club. Sure things were different, you came home to him, you slept by his side every night, you heard all his music before it was released, but still... There was something about the way your heart thrums as you stand in the audience watching Yone lift his mask to throw you a charming smile. There was something about the way you knew when he laughed softly on stage, when he waves to the fans, when the crowd cheers, that the cool DJ standing up there was all yours. Oh it made you smile just as bright.

---- During Touring Season ----

- Being together for so long had its perks and its downfalls, for one, you two had a really nice house together, a place you truly called home. Little bits of Yone all around you all the time in the way the bed smelt like him, the way you see his drinks in the fridge and his things around the room. As much as it all comforts you when he is away, it all also oh so depressingly reminds you how lonely you are without him. At the least, Yone was a man of conviction and strict schedules, without fail every day at midnight where he is, when the concerts over he would always contact you somehow. Be it a call, a message, and photo. He would always make sure to send you at the very least, something, once a day. Lovingly checking in on you to make sure you were ok.

- Sure you had your own life outside of being his loving girlfriend but yet, being by Yone's side was such a commonplace that the emptiness of the house felt foreign after all these years. Yone did his best to make sure you weren't alone though, leaving little notes hidden around the house for you to find and read, leaving you a playlist to fill his study with music so you could feel like someone was still there. Of course he still called you when he could but there were other things too, like how he kept ordering meals for you, secretly asking your neighbors to keep an eye out to make sure you were safe at night, how he actually sent you postcards so you could have a physical reminder that he was thinking of you. It was all so sweet.

- If you could make it to a concert? You had the VIP treatment, he was very secretive, not really having social media, no one really knew he was in a long term relationship with you. But for Heartsteel? Everyone close to Yone knew who you were. No questions asked, a VIP pass thrust into your hands courtesy of Alune who excitedly dragged you backstage to say hi to your partner before and after the performance.

- During the actual show it was crazy, for someone whose style was so underground it was exciting and certainly different to see how wild the crowd was compared to your hazy memories of small secluded rooms in the fringes of Tokyo all those years back. Heartsteel was good for him you had to admit, seeing him on the international stage, seeing him having so much fun with the other boys, seeing the way he was just glowing with joy when people actually hollered and cheered at his beat drops. A warm bubbling feeling rises up in your chest as you see him smile the way he does around you, only this time it was on the big stage. You knew he was happy with his own small fanbase of loyal stans but you two knew better, a tiny fanbase wouldn't pay the bills, being so wildly loved, being able to make music, his passion, for work. Having so many new people hear the same style of mixing that caught your attention years back and actually love it? Heartsteel was a blessing to you both.

- When you run backstage after the performance to congratulate all the boys on the successful performance Yone stands further back. A warm smile on his face as he pulls off his mask to watch you hug and high five everyone else, a mix of feelings as he watches you talk to his bandmate. As the initial greetings pass, you finally walk up to him, everyone leaving to settle their own post performance maintenance. For Yone, that was a little habit of searching for you and reaching out to pull you into a hug. A habit that he once had all those years back, the nostalgia after every performance always hitting him so hard his usually calm and cool demeanor would crack. The lightest tinge of a blush could be seen rising up to his ears as he finally makes eye contact with you. Slowly he walks over, a hand reaching out to beckon you to come over and hold him.

" You were amazing up on stage, I almost forgot how charming you always looked in the DJ booth."

" And I almost forgot how exciting it was to search for you cheering for me in the crowd. Especially when the crowd is that big."

Yone laughs softly. A deep melodic noise that sends shivers down your spine. Oh the way the corners of his lips curl up, his sparkling emerald eyes gaze down at you. His right hand reaching up, the back of his fingers lightly brushing over your cheeks, pushing your hair back behind your ears.

" Just like old times my love?"

" Just like old times Yone."

Carefully, doing his best to make sure his hair doesn't tickle you, the same hand that pushed your hair back now rises to hold his own messy fringe up as he leans down. Gently, just like always. His lips press against yours. Nothing too affectionate, you two were still in public after all, but still you could feel it, the way the softest kiss from your lover fills your chest with such overwhelming love. As you pull back you look up to see a smile so bright that it causes his eyes to close. Ah, you were truly loved.

#THIS WAS EXCITING i cried a little writing it cos a man this perfect doesnt exist #Yone #Yone x Reader #Heartsteel!Yone #HEADCANONS #SCENARIOS #Half half?#anon answer #YONE IS SO....UGH. he would take care of you oh so well.....................my heart..............it flutters............#Yone League of Legends #Yone LoL #Yone Heartsteel #man would bring you to pottery class and then actively use whatever you make #I hope you love this cos I SURE LOVED WRITING IT...........

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