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aspoetssay · 2 years ago

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DOMESTIC COD CHARACTERS X GN!READER HEADCANONS alejandro, ghost, soap, price, valeria, rodolfo, könig, gaz

This comes from a request of an anon from my main account. Thank you so much for the request, anon! I thought that it was such a good idea that most of the characters deserve to have a few paragraphs! I hope you will like it!

warnings: curse words and tooth-rotting fluff.

ALEJANDRO VARGAS

Lazy Sundays are a must. As much as he is a passionate man, who loves to go exploring—sometimes the warmth of the bed and you make him feel so lazy. That man will whine, protest and create chaos if you’ll refuse to stay with him in bed and do nothing. A planned lunch with friends? Cancel it. In need of groceries? You’ll get order something. Just stay in bed with him if you don’t want to be suffocated in his arms.

Loves to prepare food but likes it too spicy. You can handle spice—but that man could easily get on the Hot Ones and not even shed a tear. For him, the seasoning is chilli peppers. The way you have to watch him like a hawk and force him not to put more spice into the stew - your doctor is already concerned about your health after you ate some stew he made—you almost ended up in the ER.

Loves it when you prepare him food. Yes, it’s not enough spicy for him, but he admires the variety of cuisines you can make. He won’t admit it, but the ravioli you make with mushrooms are to die for.

He isn’t much of a sweets-eating guy, but an occasional muffin goes well with a cup of coffee. His favourite are the triple chocolate muffins and once he almost burnt his hands because he tried to take the trays out of oven without the mittens. Your look was enough to scold him without any words being said.

Enjoys cuddling way too much. If you two are spending the evening together and watching a movie, you better know there isn’t any personal space between you two. Just try to scoot away from him. That man will give you the most hurt look you have ever seen, ready to give you the most dramatic monologue in Spanish that you don’t like him. His love language is touch—please be kind enough to kiss his insecurities away.

Has a garden in the backyard. Absolutely loves to grow his own vegetables and loves it when you are helping him. It’s the most domestic thing he does with you and it always makes him feel better. It puts his mind off the horrors he has to deal with in his job and just focuses on nourishing and growing something. A plus side for you—that man works in the garden without his shirt. And maybe that’s the reason why you’re so eager to help him.

Always will make you a warm bath when you are stressed. He isn’t the type of guy to threaten to hurt someone for making you stressed. He will more likely make sure you will feel better—a warm bath, fuzzy socks, a cup of tea and a cupcake. When it’s hard - he’ll listen to you, knowing just when and what to say to make you feel understood and better.

SIMON “GHOST” RILEY

That man is the definition of domestic. No mask around you, not a scent of gunpowder - nothing. When he is off the missions and with you - he is a different man. Not Lieutenant Ghost, but your Simon.

He really values quality time. Doing nothing with you, just being in the same room with you is relaxing. You couldn’t count how many times he has passed out into an hour-long nap just from how relaxed he was in your presence. He’d always wake up from a loud snore he’d produce, catching your giggle.

Not a very good cook, but he knows a few easy recipes that are divine. Somehow he manages to make an omelette so good that no other omelette compares—what the hell is he putting in there? In addition, he makes a hell of a good tea. It’s one of his love languages to just randomly get you a nice cup of tea without any words exchanged. Yet you know that the cup of warm liquid is his way of saying he loves you.

Loves working out with you. Especially after you two turned your garage into a working-out space. He was always very reserved and closed-up while working out because he usually did it among other soldiers, but with you it is fun! The way he puts you on his back when he is doing push-ups. The way he is looking at your ass without the care in the world when you are doing squats, just waiting to get his hands on your bum. When he’s working with you, he never wears a shirt—he loves seeing you getting distracted in your reps because he just flexed his muscles.

Enjoys reading anything. Some bullshit newspaper with dumb articles? He’s on it just so he could grumble like an old man that it was bullshit. Some gossip magazine you were reading? Hear him display annoyance over the Kardashian names. He loves reading Greek Mythology—it’s not complicated for him and he likes the way the hexameter flows in his mind. You could swear you heard him one night crying about Patroclus’ death, but you never mentioned it—

Big about back hugs. You making lunch? Back hug. You doing your skincare routine? His hands are around you and he is secretly waiting to be pampered as well. Only because of you he has a whole ass skincare routine because you were absolutely aghast once you heard that he washed his face a few times with dish soap.

Be sure that he loves cuddling. He’s very touch-starved and he needs reassurance about that. Can absolutely die when you kiss the top of his head or his forehead. Once, you scratched just the right spot on his scalp and you heard him purr—he gave you the look right there and then that if you’ll say a word - you’ll regret it. But you just continued scratching the spot and you confronted him later on—

Remember the way he loves taking naps? He loves napping with you even more! Especially when you are laying on him, already passed out. Once, he accidentally turned over in his sleep and squished you almost to death—it took quite some time for him to wake up and move away from you as you were just about to die. From then on, he’s always been a bit on guard while napping with you, but you always soothed him enough for him to drift off completely.

Not a fan of taking pictures, but you already have quite the collection in your drawer. Once you showed all of them, blabbering how perfect he looks and that was the first time you saw Simon flush. He was so overwhelmed with the compliments that he couldn’t handle them anymore. Grumbles and mumbles followed as he stormed out of the room and you were horribly sad that you didn’t have a camera back there to take a picture of his rosy cheeks.

JOHN “SOAP” MACTAVISH

Domestic Soap is a rare sight since he is quite the traveller and the chatter. He enjoys taking strolls with you, sightseeing, and travelling, but occasional evenings at home, doing nothing, are refreshing.

He loves to draw. He enjoys nothing more than sketching you when your attention is off to somewhere else - you always get too shy and too giddy when you notice that he is drawing you, so he does it secretly.

Once he gifted you a small sketchbook of sketches full of him and you. You started tearing up and he got seriously terrified—was he that bad at drawing? But once you clung onto his neck and expressed how talented he was, he was the one gulping down the tears. After that, you asked him to teach you how to draw—but then you quickly agreed that he should be the one sticking to it.

He is handy! Anything that needs to be fixed or changed will be done immediately. You don’t have to worry about flickering lights or getting new furniture since he can do it all himself! Yes, he does watch some tutorials on how to do something, but your garage is quickly filled with tons of tools and necessities for the household.

Shower time alone—what is that? You can be sure that once you even think about going to shower, that man will be already ready at the bathroom door. Once you were feeling too shy so you locked the door and he was whining like a lost puppy on the other side of the door. There was nothing more he loved than when you washed his Mohawk—even if he might seem like the 3in1 type of guy, he maintains a whole ass routine for his hair. You, taking care of it, means he trusts you.

Loves to watch reality shows with you. A little bit too invested in Too Hot To Handle, but he keeps on showing his concern when they keep breaking the rules. You always shut him up by asking if he’d manage to keep his hands off you, but he always says it is too different. And he boasts that his favourite couple always wins the money.

A big sucker for family celebrations. Can’t wait for Christmas or birthdays to gather with your or his family. He’s the type of person to make lame jokes around, but everyone loves him. He really is the star of any celebration except when it is another’s birthday. But most of it all, he loves to show you off to his family and friends. Can’t stop talking about you or giving you sweet looks. Couldn’t count on your fingers how many pictures you have where some aunty took a photo of you two—you laughing at his joke and him giving you heart eyes.

JOHN PRICE

Just like Simon, John is the definition of domestic as well. He loves having lazy mornings and lazy evenings as long as you are with him. If you tiptoe into the terrace while he is having his morning cigar and hug him from behind, that man will swoon instantly.

The one to bring you breakfast to your bed. He’s quite good at cooking and always surprises you with either an English Breakfast or something sweeter with a cup of tea of your liking. The presentation on the tray is always on spot—can do fabulous hearts on pancakes with Nutella.

Lets you take care of his beard. Now, listen—you see how well he takes care of his beard? It’s really important for him. You always eagerly help him to shave or to shape the beard, especially in the spots he can’t really see himself. There is just something about the way you sit on the bathroom counter, gently trimming his beard just the way he taught you.

Big on silly board games. Will absolutely crush you at Monopoly and Alias. Don’t even talk about any card games, because he might seem like he is an old man, but he quickly learns the rules and then no one can beat him. Every game night ends with you frowning and getting mad at him and him smugly saying that he will make it up to you.

Loves reading to you. Loves reading overall, but doesn’t spend much time doing so. That’s why, whenever you get on the couch into his arms with his book in your hand, he always smiles so widely that his cheeks start to burn. And when you admitted that his voice is the most pleasant thing you have ever heard—you can be sure that he will never deny your request to read for you out loud.

Big on dancing with you. Creating that cosy evening atmosphere when it is dark outside. When a stupid show is on the TV and he already goes to the Home Stereo and puts on some old, slow music, extending his hand to you. Either looking into your face or burying his nose into the crook of your neck while dancing—he just loves holding you close. Loves the way you giggle when he spins you around. Loves the way you wrap your arms around his neck and look him in the eyes.

Has a ridiculous amount of bucket hats. If it was up to him, he’d walk around the house you two share in them. But due to your protests, he only wears them outside. However, when you two are travelling and you put on his bucket hat to hide from the sunlight—that man is gone. Wherever you two are, you better hope your house or a hotel is close because he needs to show how much he loves you when you are wearing his hats.

VALERIA GARZA

It’s hard having Valeria over only for yourself. She is always not home. Always somewhere out there. Doing her business. Keeping you as far away from it as possible.

But some mornings, you would wake to find her all cuddled up to you—normally, Valeria would never admit that she loves cuddling up to you or being held by you. It was as if she always had to be on her guard, always to be superior and not show that she was quite fragile on the inside.

The way she would hum in pure ecstasy when you would pull her closer, gently stroke her hair because she knew well you won’t use the fact that she is without her guard against her.

You were the only person she shared her true smile with. No devilish grin, no mocking smiles—the first time you saw her truly smiling and her nose slightly scrunching - you were absolutely in heaven. You remember the way she absolutely demolished the pancakes you made one breakfast and the syrup was left around her mouth for you to kiss away. That’s when you received a smile from her and you knew it was only for you.

A big fan of your thighs. If you are sitting on the couch, watching TV, you better be sure that Valeria will lay her head on your thighs. You better put your hands to work and stroke her hair—make her time worth it.

Big on forehead kisses—there are countless forehead kisses you didn’t know about since she left in the middle of the night. She’d tuck you in, gently wrap herself away from your arms and kiss your forehead as if it was a butterfly’s touch. She’d admire you for a second—you were so beautiful.

Since she wasn’t home often, sometimes when she would come back - she’d find you waiting for her, drinking tea, doing some work on your laptop. She’d never specify when she is coming back, but it was as if you had a sixth sense for when she will come home. You better be sure that when she sees you late in the night, she will give you a kiss that will sweep you off your feet.

A whole different story is when you are sick. There wasn’t a time when you were sick and she wasn’t home. She was home all the time to take care of you. She’d spend restless nights just to make sure you were breathing and didn’t need something else. Your health was her priority - she couldn’t lose you.

At moments like these, she’d even show off her amazing cooking skills that only a sick state of you is allowed to see. She’d make you her grandmother’s stew which would make you feel better instantly, but you may or may not pretend to be sick just a tad bit longer so she would be beside you.

RODOLFO PARRA

This man does everything with you. He’s really big at doing chores together. Not only does he find that it’s far more efficient this way, but you two always make it far more fun than just swiping the dust—yes, the little dance breaks are a must.

Loves cooking with you. Anything really. Can be the sous-chef or can be the one giving you orders on what to do. It depends on which recipe you are making that day—if it’s yours, he will obey doing everything and if it’s his - he’ll let you do the easiest tasks because he doesn’t want to overwork you.

Definitely the golden retriever type of man so be prepared for his beautiful puppy eyes. He knows his power and he uses it against you. Just try to tell him no and face the way the consequences hit you on their own.

Always lets you have the last piece—I’m talking about anything. Last slice of pizza? It’s yours! Last piece of brownie? He’s already pushing it towards you. Last teabag of your favourite tea? Yours, yours and yours.

Really really big on hugs. Bear hugs precisely. Loves it when he can bury his nose into your neck and slightly squeeze you with his arms. The way your body fits in his always amazes him and he just can’t get enough of your warmth.

Always notices any changes you had. Went to the hairdresser? He will notice the one centimetre gone of your split ends. Changed your routine in makeup? Notices that you haven’t used that kind of eyeshadow before. Has all of the brands you used memorised and knows which product does what. Hell, he sometimes does your skincare or makeup for you.

Oddly good at handcrafting. If you are quite handsy with knitting, crocheting or sewing and you decide to show him how to do it, just know that he will quickly get the hang of it. He will even enjoy it and will never be ashamed to admit it. He thinks it’s amazing that you can create something with your hands and most of your gifts to each other quickly become something you two have made yourself.

KÖNIG

Domestic time with you means so much to him. Social anxiety can drain his energy and domestic time revives him. That doesn’t mean that you two don’t go out to have dinner or to watch a movie in the cinema, he just prefers to be home a bit more.

That man is a sucker for any romantic comedy. He will cry and laugh at any cliches and rewatch all of his favourite movies with you. If the couple is dancing in the rain, best know that he’s already looking at you with those eyes meaning that when it’ll rain - you two will be outside. Watching movies with you is relaxing - he knows you won’t judge the fact that he really isn’t into action or horror movies. His job puts him through enough. So romcom it is!

If you can sing or play any instrument, he’ll always listen to you do it. It’s very calming to him—hearing you practice, playing the chords wrong or hitting the wrong note always makes him smile. It feels refreshing to see you put your mind and soul into something so beautiful. Secretly, he takes some videos of you playing for him because he knows for sure that if you’d know he was filming you - you would stop playing.

Big on giving you massages. That man would do anything to get his hands on you, honestly… He enjoys the way you lean back to him when he gently kneads your shoulder blades. Please return the favor! If you want to put the giant man on his knees, a few gentle strokes down his back and he’s purring for you.

Really likes to colour with you those mandala colouring books. It might have seem silly at first, but you two are seated in the living room, only candlelight on the table as you two are colouring—one page for you and the other one for him. He always whines that he’s not able to choose the right colours, but always ends up with the most beautiful colour combinations making you rage out at him and poke his ribs. That man tends to doubt himself—praise him.

Likes to cocoon you into blankets and carry you around. No matter your protests, he will do whatever he pleases with you. Most of the time you just end up being placed on him during a movie, his lips buried at the top of your head and giving you small kisses.

If you take care of him of his fresh wounds, he will be very thankful for you. He never wants to make you worry, but with his size on the battlefield, he sometimes gets clumsy from the adrenaline overload. He appreciates how soft you are tending to him, placing kisses over scars and new bruises. Of course, after that, he receives a flick on his forehead from making you worry.

Big on asking random questions in the middle of the night. Just as you are about to fall asleep, comfortably wrapped in his arms, he’ll hit you with: “How many stomachs do cows have again?” The question makes you groan: “Four, my love, please sleep.” But that never shuts him up—then he will be concerned about the fact that you know the answer, and then he will google it and see some pictures that will traumatise him.

KYLE “GAZ” GARRICK

Loves to play video games with you. Yes, he is competitive most of the time, but if you are playing somewhere you two are in a team against others—you better know that he’ll protect you even in the game and praise you when you do a perfect headshot.

Despite him being a very outgoing partner, he sometimes needs quiet days. You know exactly when to give him his space and when to approach him with a cup of tea. He really appreciates the way you can read him as an open book.

Once you gifted him a huge set of Lego - Hogwarts edition and you saw his eyes sparkle like two shiny stars. He was seated all night putting it together and when he was finished, he was waking you up at four in the morning, getting you to the living room where the glory of his was standing. You swore you never have seen him smile like that.

Making sweets with him is quite frustrating. Because in 9 of 10 cases you end up with clothes dusted in flour or chocolate running down your nose—he’s playful. He’d do anything to make you squeal or laugh from the bottom of your heart. As an act of revenge, you always eat the last piece of cake you two have made together right in front of his face. Especially when he is already reaching for it.

Big on taking naps at a random time of the day—before going to sleep, he will kick up his legs on the coffee table and snooze out for ten minutes before joining you in bed. Likes it, even more, when you are the one to wake him up, but that ends up with you being on his lap, his lips peppering your body with small kisses while he is gently tickling you.

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shygirl4991 · 10 months ago

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A shout out to @cody-the-cat enjoy seeing the idea come to life! All art is by @b-r-i-n-g-x do not repost! A Four Chapter special as thank you for all the support you guys have given me! Next Chapter

Summary: SMG3 just wanted to make himself a nice cup of coffee before the work day began, but when he takes a sip from his freshly brewed coffee and passes out he will wake up to a huge surprise. Three other versions of himself now run wild in the mushroom kingdom and he has to stop them before the world learns all his secrets.

Tags: Love Confessions, Enemies to friends to lovers, Romantic comedy, fluff and angst,

Bob was running for his life as he hears the crowd of angry mob members after him, he looks at the vial he stole from them. He knew it would sell for a lot on the dark web but he wouldn't be able to sell it if he ended up in the bottom of the ocean. Looking around for a place to hide it he sees Three’s coffee and Bomb, he nods dashing in the cafe. A victory for Bob no one was around, he dumps the vile into the coffee machine then runs out “I'M TELLING YOU I DON'T HAVE IT!” he dashes off hoping no one will find his money maker.

Unknown to him by tossing the vial in the coffee machine it cracked, the liquid spilling in the machine getting mixed with coffee beans and gunpowder creating something new. SMG3 walks out of the elevator still waking up as he ties his hair up ready for another day, he turns on the coffee maker ready for his morning brew. He hums looking outside noticing SMG4 was hanging out with the crew, seeing the man's smile made his heart flutter. He rolls his eyes at the dumb emotion, sometimes he misses the days he would plot against Four trying to kill him and take over his channel. Hearing the coffee making go quiet he walks over picking up his cup of coffee, still being half asleep the man didn't notice the drink was glowing a strange color.

Sitting down he sips his coffee as he opens his journal and starts writing, he pauses and stares at the drink “The hell? I don't have cherry coffee here…” his eyes went wide, finally noticing the strange color the drink was. He leaves the cup on the table shaking, he gets up feeling strange as he looks at the strange color drink “What…the..fuck did i?” he falls to the floor feeling weak. He coughs as his vision starts to get blurry, as he blinks he starts to see colors. Three shadows, Pink, orange and lastly dark blue.

He passes out hearing a soft giggle from a voice that sounds similar to his own.

He doesn't know how much time has passed as he gets up rubbing his head, looking around an orange blur catches his attention. He turns his head staring at the person in the cafe “Oh…i'm dreaming!” The person in the cafe with him was himself. The orange SMG3 looks up from his journal fixing his glasses as he smiles at him “Ah original your awake finally!”

He slowly stands up staring at the other him, getting a closer look while they do look the same. The other version of him had subtle differences, the man's violet eyes look into his ruby eyes before they close as he sighs “I apologize, you have awoken and i haven't told you who i am. Ahem I am Supermemeguardian3 in charge of your logical thinking, a pleasure to finally meet you.” He fixes his glasses as he walks over to Three to shake his hand, he slowly reaches grabbing his hand “Oh god this isn't a dream…”

Now that the other him was closer he noticed the skull on the hat was different and had an appearance of a book, his hair was loose free from any restraint not to mention his hair was more wavy then his was. Taking a step back, the orange version of himself let out a soft chuckle “Yes this isn't a dream, we don't know how we got here. I have been waiting for you to awaken in order to work together to get to the bottom of this!”

SMG3 shakes his head feeling himself ready to scream “What…what do you mean your my logical side?

With a hum he starts to twirl his hair thinking “Whatever happened caused a split, your three strongest personalities at the moment in time turn into us?” SMG3 slowly nods as he turns and takes the elevator down to his room, Orange Three stood there confused until he heard loud screaming “Ah i had a feeling original would react like that.”

After a few moments Three comes out of the elevator looking drain “We need to name you, no way in hell we are going to call each other three it will get confusing.” His orange version nods watching Three checking him out. As he examines the outfit the one thing that stood out the most was the skull shaped book logo on the hat and shoes, with a nod he has decided “Given your logo looks like a book, how about we call you book3?” Book nods and smiles at him “Perfect i accept the name.”

Now that the name part of the conversation was over SMG3 had one thing that was bothering him “You have mentioned three of you guys got out…where are the other two?” Book opens his mouth then frowns awkwardly looking to the side “uh well those two ran out of the cafe so fast…i couldn't stop them and they are currently outside in the mushroom kingdom,” he lets out a sheepish smile as SMG3 glares at him.

“Oh my fucking ugh come on book we need to find the other two!” he grabs books and as he storms out of the cafe. Currently his logical side is out in the open, he takes a deep breath trying to remember what emotion he could have been feeling at the moment this happened. He was drawing blanks as he walked around holding Books hand, this was strange he stopped looking at their hands. Holding hands with Book made his mind buzz, he closed his eyes to focus on the feeling. His mind became more clear, Book became worried that SMG3 stopped walking. He let's go out of his hand “Original are you okay?”

SMG3 opens his eyes seeing a concern Book “Yeah…holding hands felt odd not like with Four this was different,” Book nods “It must be due to the fact I'm you, maybe it's our meme power trying to take me back but something is preventing the fusion from happening?”

They both hum thinking over it, suddenly a huge explosion happens catching their attention. They exchange looks before running to the sound of the explosion, there they see a dark blue SMG3 on a roof of a restaurant “LISTEN UP FUCKERS I RULE THIS PLACE!” Three stares in shock at his other personality. He was dressed similarly to his old design, looking at the hat the logo was a skull in the shape of a spade.

Spade looks down, noticing SMG3 and Book “Well look who it is! Sup loser finally picking to be fun, also saw you brought original with you what up!” he smirks showing off his spikey teeth. SMG3 climbs the ladder nearby to get closer to his other personality “Alright, mind explaining why the hell are you throwing bombs around?” Now that he was closer he noticed the small difference that was on Spade also, the personality had brown eyes and it turns out his hair was in a spiky ponytail. How the hell can someone just scream edge lord this hard core “Uh duh Original we are a villain, come on we rule the graveyard why not rule over this fucking place that would teach that loser SMG4.”

Three sighs walking over and lifting up Spade “What the fuck?!” without a second thought he throws Spade off the roof making Book run and catch Spade “You have some learning to do scrub, but before we can learn we need to figure out where the last one of you guys are!” Spade pouts making Book laugh. Noticing he is in Books arms Spade blushes “HEY PUT ME DOWN!” Book keeps laughing as he puts Spade down. SMG3 climbs down “Alright Book, Spade let's go!”

Spade looks at him confused “Wait.. am i Spade?” Book nods before following Three, Spade rolls his eyes and walks after them.

As they walked down the road he started to think about the last personality, he was drinking coffee before it all happened “I bet the last one of you guys has to be a coffee mix with bomb!” Spade lets out an evil cackle “More like a bowl of fruit loops!” Three looks at Spade confused, before he could ask Spade gasp running up to a store his eyes sparkling. Three follows and sees a paintball competition happening, Book sighs as he now has both Spade and Three glued to the window of a paintball store “Guy’s we are looking for the last personality remember?” Spade waves his hand “Yeah yeah but one game couldn't hurt!”

SMG3 agrees as they both giggle running into the shop, Book awkwardly looks around before stepping into the store. Shroomy turns smiling at them “Oh hey SMG3! Uh, who are your friends?” he blinks noticing how they looked similar to three “Oh they are my er twins?”

Shroomy gasp “Oh gosh i didn't know you had brothers Three!” SMG3 nods, acting annoyed “Why do you think my name is SMG3?”

Spade stomps to the counter smacking the table “Listen we are here to shoot shit, and all I'm hearing is talking so shut it and let me shoot shit!” Shroomy nods, handing Spade and Three paintball guns, Book takes a step back not interested in the distraction “No point in being scared of yourself,” hearing this Three turns rolling his eyes “Scared? Please im SMG3 why would i be scared of myself?”

Book walks up to Three “Because you know deep down who the last one is don't you?”

Three glares at Book, how would he know who the last one is? Spade was about ready to knock out Book for getting in the middle till he catches a pink blur, he chuckles “So that's where you went.” He slips out of the store while the other two are fighting. They hear the bell of the shop and turn to see Spade leave, in a panic Three runs out catching the attention of the last personality. His eyes go wide as they look into pink SMG3 teal green eyes, nervously he looks at the hat getting his answer on who this personality may be. He swallows as he stares at the Skull in the shape of a heart, he gets a huge smile from the personality and shakes the bags in his hands “Hey guys! I was just shopping for our Blue!”

SMG3 slowly takes a step forward “Blue?” Heart giggles at his confusion “SMG4 duh, i mean how can you not have a nickname for our future boyfriend!” Heart smiles as Book chimes in “Logic, Evil, and Romance guess we are now all here right original?” Three felt panic grow as he hurried to grab the personalities hands, he attempted to focus on the buzzing feeling. But nothing happens, he lets them go and stares at his hands confused. Book frowns seeing how upset Three looked. “If I may, I think the reason it didn't work is because you won't let us in.” Slowly he looks up and stares at heart. His hair looked so fluffy and had his bangs heart shaped, this man screams valentines days. Heart gives a soft smile to him “Don't worry we will figure it out! Now who wants cookies, I made them in the shape of our love!”

Seeing the cookies and the loving eyes was enough for SMG3 to take a step back and scream. The worst thing to ever exist is standing in front of him and its Romance.

#smg4 #shygirl4991 #smg34 #smg3 #smg4 smg3 #smg43 #smg34 fanfiction #alianarepasa #split into threes #fluff and angst #humor

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jobrolion · 2 months ago

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𝒻𝓇𝑜𝓂 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓂𝑜𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔

mista x gn!reader

summary | you first met mista when he came to the bakery you worked at, and almost every monday after he would entertain you while you were on the clock.

notes | fluff and some kissing, reader is referenced to be inexperienced

wc | 1819

****

Mista came to the bakery you worked at almost every Monday after his first visit a year ago. And he always ordered the same thing. A cappuccino and a cornetto pastry with jam filling, the day he asked you out it was strawberry.

The door chimed and you locked eyes with him as he closed the door behind himself. He breathed in the air that smelled of flour and yeast, sugar and spices, and he tried to catch yours too, to no avail.

“Good morning, Mista. How are you?” It was always a genuine question and you always got a genuine answer. You were already getting his order together, moving to the side to make his drink.

“Much better now that I’m here. Slow morning?”

“A little, the rain is keeping people away. Not you, thankfully.” You smiled brightly at him, “The jam flavor today is strawberry, but you could always switch it up and get a custard or chocolate?”

“Nice try.” He tsked your name, sitting on the stool by the counter facing you. Nobody else was in the bakery so he could keep you to himself for the time being.

After sliding him his coffee and pastry, you leaned on the counter, sipping your drink as he started on his.

“Excuse me if I’m overstepping a boundary here, but where’d you get the bruise under your eye? Are you ok?”

“I’m fine now. Just one of the perks of being a mafioso.”

You paused, staring at him for a moment before letting out an undignified snort.

“Be serious, Mista.” You said between laughs. “If you don’t want to tell me that’s ok.”

“Gotta keep the mystery.”

“I guess so.” For as long as he’d been coming in he’d been enigmatic, this was part of the appeal.

For an hour you both talked, never a lull in conversation, before the rain stopped and customers started pouring in.

“Until we meet again.” He bowed with an exaggerated wink.

“See you, Mista.” You curtsied in return, waving him off.

When you got off of work you went straight into your errands. Your day off was tomorrow and you wanted it to be strictly for leisure.

After visiting the post office you took your time at the grocery store. As your job you baked pastries and breads, but your true passion lies with cooking. So you browsed ingredients and brainstormed new recipes to experiment with.

You had your eye on the freshly made pasta and the display of mushrooms. They were practically begging to be taken home. A cream based sauce would do nicely with them and the herbs you grew in your garden and the spices you kept in your cabinet.

You made conversation with the cashier as they rang you out. You left for your car once they were done and what you owed was paid.

Before you could start the ignition you saw a shadow and heard a knock on your window. Clear as day, Guido Mista was there outside your car, waiting with a grin. You exited your car and matched his enthusiasm.

“Small world, huh?”

Mista laughed, a little nervously and stared for a moment before…

“I just uh- I have something to ask you. It’s been slowly eating away at me, but I’ve never been able to ask you because it feels wrong to while you’re working and I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable or anything. And I will never show up to the bakery ever again if you ask me to so don’t hesitate to tell me off or-”

“What are you trying to get at?” Patience is a virtue, but the man in front of you was struggling.

“Would you want to maybe get dinner with me sometime?” He was actually wringing his fingers. This man would shamelessly flirt with you every time he came into your work and here he was sweating over asking you out.

“Like a date?”

“Exactly like a date.”

“I’d really like that, Mista. Are you free tomorrow night?”

It was a date. He chose the location and picked you up at 7 the next day. But before that, you fretted over what to wear and how you were going to act. This was not going to be the same as all those Monday mornings he’d spend at your bakery. You tried to calm down, it’s just Mista, the funny, flirty guy who entertains you while you’re on the clock. But it’s also Mista, the man you’d been crushing on for over half a year now who made your cheeks hot to the touch and your heart flutter.

When he picked you up, he knocked on your door, a single rose in his hand and a blush across his cheeks. You smiled as he gave it to you.

“Watch there's a thorn right there.”

You looked and sure enough there was a thorn where you were about to place your hand. “Where did you get this, Mista?”

“That’s top secret.”

“I’m flattered that you’d steal a rose for me, touching really.”

His cheeks flushed a darker shade of red and stayed that way as he took your hand.

“Where are you taking me?”

“The Libeccio. It’s a favorite of mine. The food is to die for.”

“I pass it on my way to work, I’m excited to try it!”

When you arrived, you were seated in a candle lit corner by a darkened window. It was obvious to you that this was planned and that warmed your heart.

After you ordered you noticed a group of young men who kept glancing over and looking away quickly, talking hushedly amongst themselves.

“Mista, don’t look now, but those guys over there keep looking at us.”

He did look, and immediately a panic washed over his face.

“What’s wrong? Do you know them?”

“Ah so this is embarrassing. They’re my friends.” He simplified it. “They kind of didn’t believe that you said yes. I didn’t think they’d actually show up. I’m really sorry.”

“Some friends, huh?”

Mista laughed nervously, “Yeah, something like that.”

Truth was, the rest of Bucciarati’s team knew of his infatuation with you, but not only did they doubt the date, but they also doubted your existence. So apparently, they had taken it upon themselves to settle the matter by spying on Mista.

“Should we ignore them?”

A sharp nod was your answer, so the two of you averted your eyes for the rest of the meal. He did assure you later that they meant well and were excited for him, despite them not believing him fully.

The date went as well as it could have, disregarding that minor incident. And before you knew it, you were already back on your doorstep.

“I’m glad you asked me out, Mista. I was too afraid to.” You confessed.

“Really? What about me is so frightening?” He looked over himself, faux concern painting his features which made you laugh, making him drop the act, smiling.

Mista then took your hand in his and leaned in, leaving a soft kiss on your cheek. As he pulled away, you guided his face towards yours and kissed his lips. You swore you short circuited, having never felt a spark like this with anyone before. After a moment, you hesitantly pulled away.

“Will I see you Monday?” You said breathlessly.

“Without a doubt.”

Two more Monday’s came and went before Mista asked you for a second date. This time you were on your feet all day, exploring the city, stopping occasionally for a break, once at a cafe and once at a fountain, and many times to steal kisses from each other. You wished you could fit more hours in a day, never would you want this one to end.

After dinner at a hole in the wall restaurant Mista asked if you wanted to come back to his place for a while.

You were hesitant. Before him you had barely ever kissed anybody, and you had never gone back to anyone's house for anything, ever.

But you trusted Mista and you wanted to spend more time with him, so you said yes.

His apartment was small and simple, a stark contrast to his personality, but it somehow suited him. It was comfortable with ambient lighting and a neutral color pallet. He offered you a glass of water which you accepted. Standing by his kitchen counter you smiled, thanking him for the time you spent together.

“I should be the one thanking you, I haven't had a day this nice in too long ”

Eventually you both migrated to his couch, sitting closer than you really had to. After a few more short remarks about the day, he leaned in, pressing a short kiss to your cheek.

“Kiss me here, Mista.” You pointed to your lips, eyes piercing his.

He complied, kissing you fully and passionately, hands finding their way to your face, holding you sweetly.

It could have been a minute or an hour that you sat there worshiping each other's lips. But then he placed a hand on your waist and a groan escaped him, taking you by surprise, you pulled back.

“Shit, my bad. I don't want to cross any lines here.”

“It's ok.” You laughed nervously. “It’s just that I’ve never gone any further than this with anyone. I don’t know if I want that tonight.”

“Then we take this at your pace, alright?” Your heart filled with adoration, all anxieties washing away with a single sentence.

“Is more of this ok?”

“Take the lead.”

After a while, you startled when you noticed the time. You hated to go, but you had to open the bakery the next day.

“I’ll see you Monday?”

“You'll see me sooner.”

Mista drove you home. Even after this, it was like nothing changed. You could still talk endlessly and being with him just felt natural. A year of Mondays brought the two of you closer week by week until now when you swore you were already in love.

He kissed you at your doorstep and watched as you closed the door behind you. And when he was sure you couldn’t see him he pumped his fist in the air and headed back to his car. But you did see him and now you were certain you were in love.

As you opened the bakery early the next morning you lamented another rainy day. The gray sky a sharp contrast to your sunny disposition. A dreary middle of the week Wednesday promised little to no customers which meant you got to spend the day alone.

When you finished your opening tasks, you sat with a drink and waited. Fixing the displays and cleaning could only keep you occupied for so long.

As you took the last sip, the door chimed and you turned your head to see Mista greeting you with a wave and a smile.

****

title reference

from the morning - nick drake

#mista x reader #guido mista x reader #jjba x reader #jojo x reader

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bemyawakening · 2 years ago

Note

hello, if you’re still taking requests may I please request domestic&fluff hc’s of alejandro and price,thank you<3

DOMESTIC COD CHARACTERS X GN!READER HEADCANONS alejandro, ghost, soap, price, valeria, rodolfo, könig, gaz

Thank you so much for the request, anon! I thought that it was such a good idea that most of the characters deserve to have a few paragraphs! I hope you will like it!

warnings: curse words and tooth-rotting fluff.

ALEJANDRO VARGAS

SIMON “GHOST” RILEY

That man is the definition of domestic. No mask around you, not a scent of gunpowder - nothing. When he is off the missions and with you - he is a different man. Not Lieutenant Ghost, but your Simon.

JOHN “SOAP” MACTAVISH

JOHN PRICE

VALERIA GARZA

It’s hard having Valeria over only for yourself. She is always not home. Always somewhere out there. Doing her business. Keeping you as far away from it as possible.

The way she would hum in pure ecstasy when you would pull her closer, gently stroke her hair because she knew well you won’t use the fact that she is without her guard against her.

RODOLFO PARRA

KÖNIG

KYLE “GAZ” GARRICK

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alolanrain · 2 years ago

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I need more of Kabu being a better dad to Ash than that deadbeat failure of a sperm donor (*cough*Giovanni*cough*).

their not related but Ash clings to Kabu more then any of the younger gym leaders do. it doesn't help that Centiskorch adores the kid almost more then Kabu who's raised it from a newly hatched Sizzlipede.

you can catch the pair hanging around Motostoke and the Galar News and Gossip rags go wild. because even though they aren't related they almost look identical standing side by side. they especially like to visit the food market that pops up every weekend during the more warmer months. you'll most likely see Kabu out and about shopping for weekly groceries while Ash is literally dancing in the background. Pikachu and a ridiculously big sizzlipede sharing space on his shoulders while Ash is double fisiting two very full kabobs. giving each Pokémon a bite from one of the kabobs before taking one himself from the other one.

it's an every weekend thing and it drags a lot of attention from around Galar since videos and pictures fly about and sometimes the other Gym leaders will show up as well. Raihan cooks a lot himself so he's always asking for tips and trick from Kabu to pick out the best produce and Gordie just likes to fuck around and not be near his mom so he's breaking it down in the background with Ash while holding his Shuckle and one of Raihan's Trapinch. Pier's is there in the background with his hoodie up, as much as it can be with all that fucking hair, and he usually has coffee in his hands. getting tugged around by Raihan when the group moves a few stalls down. just trying to survive off of the five minutes of sleep he's got collectively through the week.

Nessa joins when Milo comes along to bring hand cut meat to Kabu around twice a month and Ash is still dancing but he's recruited by Nessa to be her photographer because she always wear fire af fits when visiting anyone on her days off. she is a model after all. Milo just watches them in amusement with Kabu.

not to say he and Ash don't hang out. Kabu and a lot of the other gym leaders of Galar get a bunch of pictures of Ash challenging off the few Dubwool Milo's family keeps around on their farm. he always looses but his laughter as he's being bucked into the side of the barn or into a pile of hay is nothing but pure joy.

sometimes Kabu invites Ash to come with him too Ballonlea because that's where he gets all his mushrooms to cook with, Opal hooks him the fuck up with the best of the best, and Ash is still dancing in the back with Pokémon on his shoulder's but this time he's somehow dancing with Opal's Togekiss balanced perfectly on his head.

yes Ash twerks, he's good at it but uses the moves to dance to the wii themed music that constantly plays in his head, and the world can't really process him doing that with a 83.8 lbs or a 38.0 kgs Pokémon on his head while he does so.

Melony: come get your son, he's T posing Gordie into a corner and I can't take my sons screaming anymore

kabu: he's not my son *shows up anyways to collect Ash who's giggling like the little fucker that he is*

Kabu and Ash have the same disgusted/annoyed look on their face and the world only finds out about it because Rose and Oleana make themselves known during the pairs daily weekend shopping. Ash only starts dancing again when the two leave.

there's a lot of non fire type Pokémon that show up around the gym and it's just a universal fact that 90% of the time it's just Ash's Pokémon he caught in Galar so far. Kabu just takes after them because Professor Magnolia would kill both of them with her cane if her house was flooded with them because Ash doesn't and will never use storage boxes.

since Kabu is a middle aged man and his home turf is Hoenn he absolutely shows Ash some old ass anime he's watched as a kid/young adult and they make a night of it. Allister likes to join the pair and so Bea gets dragged along. they end up watching a lot of Studio Ghibli works later on in their get togethers.

Kabu can actually stay up surprisingly late without issue but he's a big bitch to deal with in the morning. he only grunts, huffs, and snarls like an grumpy Arcanine. Ash has somehow learned what each sound means and has successfully learned Angry Kabu Speak or that's what Gordie and Raihan call it.

Ash ends up staying at Kabu's actual home with the man as he takes on the Galar league, sponsored by Melony so there's no favoritism even though it's exceedingly obvious. it takes the old man three whole ass months before he realizes that Ash had taken over half his yard and somehow turned it into a blooming and fruitful garden.

there's a lot of Hoenn plants that are native but their mostly house plants. hanging from the ceiling in just the right spots to get enough light or taking over a few of the windowsills. a good quarter are in ports made from Hoenn, shipped with the plants which thank you Steven and Wallace, but the majority are handmade pots that Ash finds during his travels around Galar or from the weekend market.

Kabu totally gets a tiny crush on Delia from just the stories Ash tells him about his childhood in Pallet Town during dinner or when something makes a memory pop into Ash's mind. it doesn't help at all that Ash calls her over the Tv system at least twice a week, Wednesday night before dinner and Sunday morning before Ash is dragged into doing the weekly chores to spruce the house up for when Monday comes.

he would never say anything about it to Ash. Kabu would literally kill himself before speaking about having a crush of any size since Ash would go gossip with Nessa who's always around Milo at his farm after work, who'd then go tell Gordie and he'd go snitch to Raihan and Piers. in the end it would somehow work its way up to Rose and Oleana-

yeah, Kabu's lips are sealed shut.

that doesn't stop the blush that lightly colors his cheeks every time Ash pulls Kabu into frame to say hi to his very pretty and very sweet mom.

#ash ketchum #gym leader kabu #gym leader gordie #gym leader melony #gym leader piers #gym leader raihan #gym leader bea #gym leader allister #gym leader opal #chairman rose #pokemon oleana #dad!kabu

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xxchthonicreaturexx · 5 days ago

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Matchup Trade

Twisted Wonderland matchup trade with @ryyylaaaiii

HELLO HELLO Im so so so so sorry this took so long but here it is! Thank you so much for waiting!

Twisted Wonderland

Azul Ashengrotto

The moment you started off I had already kinda pictured Azul. Taking good care of your body, the beauty marks, all things I assign to Azul's personality. I mean, he was bullied as a child due to his shape, so of course as a young man he would be extra diligent to take care of himself, as well as respect those that do the same.

And then you had to top it with the pearls-

That just solidified it. I mean, pearls are so pretty in general, and Im sure they look gorgeous compared to your dark hair. They're cute and feminine, and where do pearls come from? AZUL'S HOMELAND.

This man will literally gift you so many pearls. I mean authentic ones can be so expensive, but to someone who was raised under the sea? I like to think that pearls arent as expensive down there. So, cue the many many pearl jewelry sets. Some pink hued, some blue, cream colored, any best quality he can get his hands on.

I mean, imagine one of the events for Halloween or literally anything and he somehow managed to force a Pomefiore student to make you this extravagant dress with pearls sewn into the lace- (poor kids probably worked to the bone and still not paid up)

Id say another point most definitely is the awkwardness. As collected and business savy as Azul is, you cant deny that he can definitely be a bit...frazzled at times. I mean, its probably easy to fluster him once you have the upper hand, so you wouldnt need to necessarily worry.

That also leads into psychology. Once in an established relationship with him, he would absolutely love for you to share psychology tricks. I mean, the more mind games he can play, the better business he has. He'll ask you for tips, have you secretly analyze students, anything. Truly partners in crime.

Id say the only con, however, to this relationship is that he feels you make him let his guard down too much. Compared to how kind you are, he sometimes even feels bad for how he treats his "business partners". He feels bad, and sometimes even guilty when a deal happens when youre nearby or if you happen to be inside the room when hes purposely swindling someone to get the short end of the stick.

He admires your hobbies and intelligence though, I mean, being a book worm and having been in a journalism club? He loves that youre linguistic and able to comprehend his contracts.

I actually like to think that's how y'all started talking. He tried to ake a deal with you, but you read the fine print, realized his wording was a bit sneaky, and shyly called him out. Tried to cover his ass, but just looked a little awkward haha

He'd love for you to sit and read to him or even do your makeup at his desk while he studies or does some other paperwork. May even let you do some makeup on him!

Hes not so much into gardening, but you know who is? One of his trusty sidekicks loves mushrooms, so best believe when Azul's busy, you can go garden or collect plants and shrooms with Jade! Floyd will probably harass you to no end, but i mean he is entertaining, and you have built in buddies for when Azul's busy.

And lastly, cute coffee dates? Babes, he owns a lounge. You want a cute cafe study date? Sure, he's blocking off a whole section, changing the lighting a little, and one of the eels is bringing you the fanciest coffee youve ever seen! And at 75% off? What a steal! (Sometimes you can score a free one)

You want a nice candlelit dinner to fuel your hopeless romantic fantasies? He's already having workers break out the stolen wine and some steaks...just dont tell Crowley that he serves wine there.

In all 9/10. I think you guys would be adorable, and as much as Azul is kinda a selfish little conman, I think hes a softy and hopeless romantic at heart that was just bullied too much as a kid. I think he just needs someone kind like you <3

#matchup trade #request #matchups #twisted wonderland #x reader

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mashiee · 2 years ago

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Arlo headcanons please please please gimme

hrmhehahaheheaysysh

ok so

i hc that he has 4 older siblings, but was separated from them pretty early on due to [REDACTED] so he was practically alone his whole life, with the occasional step in from valerie

*[REDACTED] is a whole Thing, so send another ask in if you want me to talk about it and go into detail abt my hcs for arlo family/family dynamic(s)

this is very much why he so easily believes her and why he seems so much more adamant about the hierarchy compared to other characters

also why he acts like an only child despite having four older siblings

his sister has tried to reconnect with him but its a work in progress

he collects antique buttons and very much has a hyper fixation on them

yes he is autistic, tbh i probably dont even have to say that

bee allergy, esp hornets

hates wearing shorts outside would rather die than wear them out it feels so weird to him

honestly im not entirely sure what i hc arlos gender. it tends to switch between cismasc and amab demiboy. also sometimes tho its amab nonbinary or agender

also a bit unsure about pronouns. he/him for now but if i end up going for nonbinary or agender later on probably it/its pronouns. or maybe they/them

speaking of being queer he has internalized homophobia (possibly via valerie) so he probably doesnt come out until much later in life

he struggles with allowing himself to be feminine or sometimes even androgynous. was taught growing up that he has to be masculine and strong

its being worked on

plays animal crossing a lot

probably the only video game he plays. aside from maybe like. tetris

probably plays with elaine whether he knows its her or not

gay asexual

says he prefers dogs bc theyre more obedient but in reality he prefers cats

multiple times in a week he'll have moments where he'll suddenly Realize just exactly how Tall. he is

prefers reading over movies/tv/yt/etc. it just isnt as interesting to him. also he prefers things that are physical and that he can feel

acts all superior and shit but in reality hes super self deprecating and thinks he'll never amount to what is expected of him

was deprived of having hobbies and playing as a child so he's very much discovering his inner child as he grows and gets further away from the box he tries to mold into

likes adult coloring books a lot

cant stand repeating sounds it makes him dissociate

derealizes a lot

cant recognize himself in a mirror most of the time so he just. doesnt have them. and when in places that do have them he wont look at them. like if he's in the bathroom he'll look down the entire time he wont look up

same reason why he hates photos

absolutely despises mashed potatoes they are so slimey and disgusting

sometimes i consider hcing him as being 18-19 instead of 17-18 bc like. a lot of autistic children repeat kindergarten for lack of communication/interaction with other children

at the same time tho i feel like valerie wouldnt have allowed that

is a cat person

both in that he prefers cats and also that hes a wet cat

he never actually fights people he just crushes them w his barrier or lets them suffer the backlash from attacking it and then moves on

therefore he is weak asf and has no body strength. mr mans has noodle arms

long eyelashes

like john hes also vampire tier but hes sophisticated whereas john is like... feral vampire

sometimes i hc him as british and having an english accent bc i think its funny

can cook enough to survive but its mediocre

cannot handle ANY amount of spicy

pepper and any form of mint is spicy to him

hates mushrooms

has tried weed exactly two (2) times and has hated it both times

in his words "i felt like a coffee grinder with nothing to grind"

why do you, as a man, feel like you need something to grind? do you want to grind on a man?? is that it?? gay

the first person who convinced him to try it was a combo of rei and kuyo, the second time it was holden

arlo still questions why he did it the second time KNOWING he wouldnt like it

theres a senior chat and arlo got named "Big Daddy" in the chat by holden and he has no idea how to change it and no one will tell him so he just suffers

you would think as a king or whatever hed know how to blackmail ppl to get them to do what he wants but he actually doesnt

people just automatically listen to him so when hes faced with someone who wont, he either broods about it or straight up attacks them. sometimes both

more arlo stuff: arlo sibling info | [REDACTED]

#suspicious of if this was kazz's ask #but tbh im sus of kazz w anything to do w arlo #like kazz is The arlo expert arlo is Their blorbo #ok anyway #my posts #asks #webtoon unordinary #unordinary #webtoon #unordinary webtoon #unordinary arlo #arlo unordinary #headcanons #oc

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thedreadvampy · 1 year ago

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honestly I am big time upset about this holiday-Pride clash for some reason and I THINK. it's that I already feel like there's not enough time for me to just like. do fun things with my friends without thinking about work. and like work is the one thing that doesn't give. so any time I do Leisure Activities they get traded out against different leisure activities and I'm only ever missing out on stuff that's GOOD and that I WANT to do. I can't be like 'hmmm hmmmm work or hang out with friends?' it's only ever 'pick which friend to hang out with in the slivers of time you have around work'

like fuck me. goddamn. there's ONE WEEK I'm taking off work and suddenly THAT'S the time everyone's going to be in the same places doing fun stuff? when I'm not there? and the only way I could be there is to not do the other fun thing I'm excited about? FUCK YOU MAN. FUCK YOU. my life should contain more fun shit and less worrying about how to fit fun shit in. I don't need to be at work 39 hours a week and have that take precedence over everything else in my life!!!!! fuck off!!!!! fuck offffffff!!!!! I want to go to a party! I want to be on the beach with the leatherdyke meetup! I want to go on a rollercoaster! I want to have a nap! I want to tend my garden I want to get drunk I want to go to a barbeque I want to climb a hill I want to take mushrooms and lie in the grass I want to draw I want to make t-shirts I want to cook I want to go for coffee I want to drink wine and bitch I want to have difficult but important conversations I want time to travel and see friends I've not seen in years I want to look the fuck after myself and do things that nourish me and make me happy!!!!!! I don't want to choose!!!!!!!! I don't want to work!!!!!! I should get to choose between work and fun sometimes instead of between fun and fun! This sucks! This fucking sucks!!!!!!

#red said #NOBODY'S EVER AVAILABLE #why would everyone only be available when I'm not here why would they DO THAT TO ME PERSONALLY #<<knows that this was entirely my decision #but also that the only reason we MADE that decision was because sam couldn't get the July week we wanted off work #so again it comes down to #WORK FUCKS US #like fuck you man! fuck you! why does work always have to take precedence over the people we care about or the stuff we need?#why does someone have to be So Much More Worried about when work Can't Do Without Them than about what people in their life need?#literally who gives a shit if repairs or emails have to wait a week oh no the world will end will it?#who gives a fuck???? who cares????? it's not that important!!!!!#i refer to my past claims that all offices should have staggered summer closures. give us a fucking summer holiday you cunts.#it sucks SO HARD that the only time in the whole year you get an ACTUAL holiday where stress isn't just building up for you to come back to #is the middle of the winter when everything sucks anyway and nobody wants to do anything #like you know what the world will not end if we shutter for a week in June/July #and pay overtime to people who have to work through it

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apolyian-alluvial · 2 years ago

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n o c t u a r y {four}

n o c t u a r y {linked universe x reader}

Only the older members of the group were awake. For a while, you contemplated feigning sleep, but you couldn’t shake the relentless in your bones. Even in a different world, you couldn’t stop rising and starting your day with the sun. Regretfully, you climb out of your warm bed roll and face the chain of Links.

“You’re up early,” Warriors comments, holding a mug full of dark brown liquid.

You squint suspiciously at the mug. Did they have coffee here? Everything in Hyrule so far reminds you of medieval England. You don’t even know when Europe or America started drinking coffee. “I always wake up around sunrise.”

“A good habit to have,” Warriors says, tipping his drink at you. “Especially in someone so young.”

“It’s not my choice. It’s called having a father who’s the sun and wants his children to watch him pull the sun across the sky.”

Time smiles briefly. “A good habit to have here,” he amends. “It takes forever to rouse some of our heroes.”

“Sky,” Twilight says pointedly. He looks over at you with a mischievous grin. “It takes nothing short of a miracle to wake that boy. If you wanna keep all your limbs attached, stay away from him until lunch.”

Oh great, you think to yourself. He’s one of those kind of people. Although most of your siblings get up at sunrise every morning, there’s always one or two that will stubbornly sleep the day away if allowed. Being the oldest and the cabin leader, the duty to wake them was always passed to you. “The morning sacrifice,” Will would jokingly call you.

You have to blink away the wetness starting to gather in your eyes. The cool, morning air quickly dries them out. You sit down over by Twilight, which is also over by Wild, who is stoking a fire. “Do you need any help?”

Wild perks up. “If you want to help. I’m about to start breakfast. Do you know how to cook omelets?”

“I know how to cook eggs,” you say, because how different are scrambled eggs and omelets?

Wild pulls an iPad-looking object off of a strap wrapped around his hips. He taps on it and scrolls, presumably on, a screen. The edges of the tablet glow blue and multiple items scatter to the ground. Wild heaves up a frying pan over the flames, then hands you a bowl. “You can crack the eggs.”

He gives you a comically large pile of eggs. In that moment, looking at the eggs, you finally understand every single elementary school math problem. You dutifully get to work. After cracking the fifth egg into the bowl, it gets tediously boring.

“Do you cook often?” Wild asks, saving you from your mind-numbing task. He’s cutting up several mushrooms and vegetables.

“Not really,” you say, watching an egg white slowly drip into the bowl. “At Camp, most of our food is served by the dryads, nature spirits. If we get special permission, we can learn how to cook in the kitchens, but no one really does that.” You’ve only gone to the dryads a few times for cooking lessons only at the insistence of your mother. Ever since you got accepted into college, she’s become more and more insistent on being present in your life and you becoming a ‘proper’ adult.

“Oh.” For a moment, Wild almost seems disappointed. “I do most of the cooking, since no one here knows how to.” After seeing his friend’s playfully offended face, he adds, “Twilight helps me sometimes.”

“Hey,” Warriors defends with no real bite. “I was too busy on my journey to learn anything as domestic as cooking.”

Wild blows a raspberry. “I was busy too, you have no excuse.”

“What’s your excuse, old man?” Warriors ask, a clear attempt to get the attention off of him.

A soft smile crosses Time’s face as he looks down at his mug. “I have a lovely wife that cooks for me.”

“Is there a stream nearby I can wash up in?” you ask after cracking your final egg. You hold your sticky hands away from you. “And some soap I can use too?”

Twilight jumps up the same moment Warriors says “I’ll show you.” The two seem to have some sort of stare-down.

“Why do you need soap?” Wild asks innocently.

Your mouth falls open. “Raw eggs have bacteria…and you’re supposed to wash it off afterward…” Your voice goes uncomfortably high. “Do you- do you wash your hands often?”

“You don’t want the answer to that,” Warriors says gently. He goes over to his bedroll and rummages around in his bag until he pulls out a small, wrapped item.

You stare down at your hands with horror.

“Come on.” Warriors wraps an arm loosely around your shoulders, guiding you away from the camp. “It’ll be nice to finally have another person who enjoys using soap around here.”

You let out a little whimper.

Warriors takes you to a stream just a little ways past camp. He gives you a round bar of lemon-smelling soap. There’s little flecks of green leaves in the yellow soap that almost smell of mint. After dunking your soapy hands into the cool water and drying them on your tunic, Warriors washes his hands as well.

Most of the camp is awake by the time you two return. Wild is cooking the eggs while Twilight sets up plates and utensils. Hyrule peers over Wild’s shoulders, still blinking the sleep out of his eyes as he watches his breakfast get made. Wind is poking an annoyed Four awake. Time is pouring Legend a drink, and Sky is still sleeping.

You accept your breakfast plate with a quiet thanks, the knowledge that Wild probably doesn’t wash his hands often weighing heavily on your mind. You walk over to the fire and cut off a piece of your omelet. You toss the food into the fire.

“Do you hate my cooking that much?” Wild asks, crestfallenen. You don’t like the way Twilight is looking at you and Legend is now holding a knife.

You look between Wild and your plate, eyebrows knitted and your brain slowly trying to puzzle out why you made him upset. “Oh! No! No! It’s not like that! It’s, um, like a demi-god thing? We sacrifice part of our meals to the gods to appease them. They, um, like the smell of it, I think.”

“Oh? Really?” Wild tilts his head. One of his long, pointed ears twitches slightly.“What does it smell like?”

“I’m not sure,” you confess. “But it’s a lot better than sacrificing animals.”

“You sacrifice animals?” Twilight asks quietly, looking down into his lap.

“No!” You take a seat on the ground by the fire. Your plate rests on your knee, giving your hands the mobility to flutter around in the air as you explain. “The Ancient Greeks used to, but even then it was only in times of war and festivities, I think. Cattle and goats were sacred and too precious to sacrifice every day.”

“You sacrifice goats?” Wild places a comforting hand on an extremely distraught Twilight’s shoulder.

You clench your hands into claws in the air. “I’ve never sacrificed an animal before! I just sacrifice my food!”

“I have,” Wind speaks up, grinning manically. “I’ve thrown pigs into the ocean.”

You try to bite down a grin, but fail miserably. You love younger teenagers so much, they’re just filled with goblin energy due to their developing frontal lobe. “Who were you trying to appease?”

Wind’s grin turns downright vicious, like a monster about to sink its teeth into its prey. “Me.”

“Hell yeah, love that for you little man,” you genuinely say with a smile. You hold up a hand, palm facing out.

Wind stares at your hand.

“It’s a high five,” you explain. “We smack our hands together.” Wind stares at his palm for a brief moment before connecting it with yours softly. “Harder! Slap it like you mean it!”

Wind pulls his palm back, then slaps it against yours with a loud crack. Your palm stings from the contact, but the boy’s wide eyes and amazed grin makes up for it. “I like that.”

“It’s called a high-five,” you explain.

“You better not do that to me,” Legend says. His breakfast plate is balanced on one knee. One hand holds a fork, the other is still holding a knife that he doesn’t need.

You roll your eyes upward. Olympus give you the patience to deal with this clown today. “I won’t, you don’t deserve a high-five.”

“They’re only given to the worthy?” Warriors questions.

“I give them to people I like.”

Legend scoffs loudly at that. You smile smugly at him. He angrily holds your gaze for a few seconds before ducking his head down. Breakfast passes quietly. Right when the sky turned a clear blue for the day, Time called for everyone to pack up camp. Wild gave a freshly awakened Sky something to eat, then proceed to help the others pack their bags. It didn’t take you that long at all to pack up. You just rolled up your bedroll and tied it to your bookbag.

“Are you going to put pants on?” you ask Legend genuinely concerned that the boy was going without pants. His red tunic was long enough to be modest, but didn’t his legs any protection from the elements or even monsters.

Legend’s eyes go wide with rage. If you were a lesser person, you would probably be cowering on the ground with all the hatred in his gaze. “No,” he grounds out, and pointedly walks to the other side of camp.

“He doesn’t wear pants?” you whisper bewilderedly to yourself. One part of you gets it, pants are kinda annoying to put on, especially on young, hyperactive demi-gods that refuse to put them on themselves. The other part of you, the side that grew up surrounded by healers and medics is appalled. The number of injuries that could happen to legs while traveling, snake bites, cuts from sharp branches, and poison ivy.

Wind slides up beside you. “Nope! The veteran doesn’t like pants!”

“He’s going to get a rash or some sort of infection,” you mumble.

“Right?!” Hyrule agrees from his spot nearby. “I keep telling him that pants offer more protection but he refuses to listen.”

“Quit talking about me!” Legend yells from across the camp.

“Put some pants on!” you yell back.

Time looks at you albeit sternly, like a librarian about to tell you to be quiet. “That’s enough. We’re going to fill up our waterskins and then continue towards Castle Town.”

Twilight herds the group to the stream you washed your hands in earlier. You spent a moment to yourself internally screaming at the sight of the boys filling up their waterskins with stream water. The number of germs, diseases, and bacteria that could be in that water made you shudder. But, it was a flowing stream and there certainly seemed to be a lot less pollutants in this world. Hesitantly, you filled up the insulated water bottle that was stored away in your backpack.

Your journey continued on. Four walked beside you towards the back just like yesterday. Ten minutes into walking, you looked over to discover your walking buddy had changed. Wind smiles at you, his sea green eyes curling up as he did so. If his eyes were a little more blue, he would look exactly like one of your siblings. The thought makes your heart ache, both for the home and family you’re missing and that this child was forced to become a hero.

“Do you have any stories about the sea?” Wind asks, cutting straight to the chase.

“You mean like Greek myths?” You receive a nod in confirmation. “Yeah, Greece is partly comprised of a lot of islands, so the sea was pretty important to the Ancient Greeks. Poseidon is god of the sea. There’s a few other sea gods I think, but they’re not as powerful or as important as Poseidon.”

“Is he strong? What’s he like? Have you met him?” Wind questions rapidly, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet.

You suck in a breath. Sure, Poseidon wasn’t the worst god out there, no one could be as bad as his brother Zeus, but he still had his moments, a lot of bad moments. You can’t say much for his parenting either. Being a terrible parent is a requirement to be a Greek deity. “Um…he’s not the best person in the world, let’s just say that.”

Wind frowns. His mouth looks like a squiggly line. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Do you have any sea stories?” you hurriedly ask, redirecting the conversation.

“I have lots of them! It comes with being one of the best sailors on the Great Sea,” Wind proudly announces, puffing his chest out like a bird.

“Oh?” You smile down at the young teen. “Wanna share?”

“It began on a dark, stormy night…”

A collective groan throughout the group interrupted Wind’s storytelling. “Not this again.”

“Don’t you have any other stories?”

“Sailor, all your stories are the same.”

Wind crosses his arms and sticks his tongue out. “My stories are not the same! You guys just have no appreciation for the fine art of storytelling.”

“We could talk about something else,” you suggest, wanting to appease the boy.

“Like what?” Wind looks up at you with eyes narrowed in suspicion.

You bite the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing at his expressions. “We could play twenty questions if you want, to get to know each other better since we’re gonna be travelling together.”

Wind thinks about this for a moment. Finally, he nods. “Okay, you start.”

“Do you have any siblings?” A solid, safe question…hopefully.

“I have a younger sister.” Wind smiles softly downward. “Her name is Aryll!”

“That’s a beautiful name,” you say honestly.

“It is! It’s perfect for her.” The blond boy looks up at you. “Do you have any siblings?”

You grin to yourself. The few times you left camp and someone asked you this question, you loved watching their reaction when you answered. But now, the question causes your heart to clench. You never got to say goodbye properly. You don’t know when you’re gonna see them again. “I have six younger siblings.”

“There’s no way!” Wind accuses. “Six?!”

“I told you, the gods and goddesses like to come down from Olympus and have children.”

From up ahead, Twilight laughs as he looks over his shoulder. “That must have been a full house growing up!”

“Oh, we only share a father. Some of us were raised by our separate mothers or family members, but it does make for a full cabin at camp!” you say. “The Apollo Cabin has the second most campers.” The Hermes Cabin currently holds the title of having the most demi-gods, but three years ago you guys had the same amount of (claimed) campers.

Wind tugs on your elbow. “Ask me another question.”

You force yourself to think of anything but your siblings. “What’s your favorite animal?”

“Pigs! What’s your favorite food?”

Your little game continues. You lost track of what question you guys were on when one of your questions causes Wind to go off on a tangent about barrels. Eventually, the two of you settle on exchanging stories, most of yours are about your siblings while Wind talks about the parts of his adventures that don’t involve a dark, stormy night.

You think, as you hold your side from laughter as Wind explains why auctions should be abolished (unless he has enough money to buy whatever is being auctioned), that this adventure might not be so bad.

-------

hopefully you guys enjoyed this chapter!!

#linked universe x reader #lu twilight x reader #lu wild x reader #lu warriors x reader #lu time x reader #Lu Hyrule x reader #lu legend x reader #lu four x reader #lu wind #lu imagines

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angry-geese · 3 years ago

Text

Nanami Kento x Reader

Warnings: sfw. pregnancy mention, death mention, minor injury mention. mild angst. jjk manga spoilers/shibuya arc spoilers

Summary: some pregnancy fluff with nanami

Word Count: 2.2k

jjk masterlist

Greys dot at his temples, and the sides of his beard. There's a permanent line between his eyebrows from scowling. Nanami always kept his face shaved in the past. Nowadays he hardly bothers shaving. You like it when he has a little bit of scruff, and he's often too tired to shave. His cheeks are far more gaunt. He lost a considerable amount of weight he never really gained back. You’ve been trying to get him to eat more. And it's working, but recovery isn't a short process. It was a long road that sometimes it feels like you take one step forward, only to take ten back.

He finds himself questioning if he'd rather wear a glass eye, or an eyepatch.

Nanami hardly sees the point in either. So the answer is neither. He rarely leaves his house, save for the rare times you drag him along to the grocery store, or down the street to the bakery. Even then, he wears his hat low on his head, keeping his eyes on the ground in a feeble attempt to make himself as small as possible.

Shibuya left scars on everyone who had the misfortune of being there, ones that never quite healed right. You were the same person; torn apart and put back together wrong. Age has not been kind to you, your wounds taking longer to heal, an ever-present ache in your bones. Past injuries have never quite healed, only laying dormant, waiting for the weather to sour so they can ache. He guesses he can consider himself lucky. He's alive. That's more than a lot of people can say.

But sometimes he thinks the real lucky ones were those who didn't survive.

Sometimes he thinks he's dead. In the twilight between sleep and his waking moments, he wonders if he actually made it. He wonders if he really survived, or if this is just some last ditch attempt by his brain to make sense of things.

He doesn't understand why you stay. He finds himself wondering why he bothers. Most days he doesn't see a point in continuing. But he doesn't want to leave you alone, reaching out to the empty space where he used to be.

For a long time he struggled to find purpose to all this. He wanted a reason, or at the very least answers. But he never would get them. It's unfair to say there’s an order to the universe. There's no reason why things happen the way they happen, they just do.

In the end he came to terms with it.

He remembers the glint in your eyes. A mischievous look- you were always trying to cause trouble. It's never really left. You were younger than him. Not by much. Two years. You were adamant he recommended you to become a grade one sorcerer. For months you pestered him, hounding him for that recommendation. As a Jujutsu High first-year, you looked up to him. When you got into trouble, you found yourself asking 'what would Nanami do?' And as time went on, you still did.

After months of pestering he eventually caved. You're nothing if not persistent. It was a little alarming at the time, and equally as irritating. But when you were finally a grade one sorcerer, he was there alongside you to celebrate.

At first glance, you two were far from compatible. The two of you couldn't be any more different. He was stoic and stern, and you were a known troublemaker. Your cursed technique worked well with his, and as a result, you went on many jobs together. As time went on you grew close.

And after years of working together, he finally realized he wanted more.

To everyone around you, your feelings were obvious. The two of you were hopeless. Between your stubbornness, and Nanami’s refusal to believe Gojo, neither of you wanted to be the first to confess. It was up to Gojo to help. Neither of you asked for his help, he took it upon himself. Little did he know, Nanami had a confession planned.

Nanami never got to have a proper confession. Gojo would spoil the surprise. Nanami was pissed, but your reaction was worth it. He doesn't think he’s ever seen you that happy.

Slowly things got better. Your more visible wounds healed and scarred. You went back to work. Nanami settled into domestic life better than he thought he would.

The transition wasn't the easiest. Settling down was far from an instantaneous change. He took on work around the house. For a short time you kept a ‘normal’ job. Even when you were younger, such work never suited you. Between the money you had saved up from your years as a sorcerer, and the money you got from odd jobs, you had enough to live comfortably. There was no need to work.

Slowly he started to look forward to getting up in the morning. Having a routine helped. It gave him a sense of normalcy.

He often finds himself unable to sleep. Nanami falls asleep late in the afternoon, and sleeps until either his phone, or a nightmare rouses him.

Today it's neither. He was a light sleeper before. Now even more-so. When he’s next to you, sleep comes to him easier. His arms find the swell of your belly, wrapping around it protectively. Your presence is a reminder that you’re still around, that you're not going anywhere. His shoulder aches. He finds sleep impossible. He’s too sore to move, but too sore to sleep. Even before everything, he found it easy to sleep on his couch, and hard to sleep in bed. You’d constantly pester him that sleeping on the couch wasn't good for his back. But that wouldn't stop you from staying there until you both inevitably fell asleep, and he carried you to bed.

It took you years to convince him to have one. He wanted to settle down and have children, but he couldn't be both a sorcerer and a parent. And neither could you. Shibuya only set things back. The world had to heal first. Things had to get better. The two of you had to heal before others could rely on you.

You weren't actively trying, but if it happened, it happened.

You've long since fallen asleep in the crook of his neck. He hardly left bed all day. Things were getting bad again. Sometimes months would go by where it seemed things were improving, only for them to take a nosedive. He’s still getting better, but recovery isn't a linear process. You didn't have anywhere to go that day, so you stayed right by his side. You took it upon yourself to make him feel better. Or at least bother him until he got out of bed. Much of your morning was spent watching movies on your phone, and stealing blankets from each other.

Retirement was nice. Granted, you retired rather young, but if the rest of your life was spent with him, you’d be content. He’s still the same man you fell in love with all those years ago. Aside from the occasional, safe-ish odd job, you were done with sorcery. Those days were past you.

He’s grown tired of staying still. Sometimes moving helps the aches. He never was the earliest riser before, but now he can hardly stay in bed past seven. Everything hurts. No matter when he goes to sleep, he’s usually up by 7:30, and you can count on him making coffee in the kitchen.

It's hardly past nine. The sun has completely set over the horizon. Stiffness has set into his limbs. He takes great care to not disturb your sleeping form, tucking the blankets back around you.

You nuzzle into the warm spot where he once was, a frown burned into your face. You never liked sleeping without him. Nightmares struck you frequently. Often you'd wake up from a dead sleep in a panic, calling out for him, convinced that this was some sick dream and he died years ago. He’d often wake up to you clinging to his arm, face buried in his shirt.

But he was always there.

You find it easier to fall asleep when it's light out. You don't like falling asleep in the dark. He makes sure to keep a light on in the hall. The power bill you could care less about. Nightmares came to you in the dark. Your logic is that, if there's no dark, you won't have them. To some extent it works.

It's a bit late for dinner, but he finds himself in the kitchen anyway. He wants udon, but the shop you normally go to would be closed at this hour. Their mushroom udon is the best. He’ll try to recreate it.

He sets some water on to boil, along with some frozen gyoza to thaw that you always insist on going to this one specific market in Tokyo for. Chicken and leek, with lots of ginger. Your favorite. You go through so much of the stuff that you have to get it in bulk, and freeze the extras. He thinks you’ll want tea too, so he sets the kettle on to boil.

He doesn't hear you walk in. Between the clanking of pots, and the whistling of the kettle, your soft footsteps go unheard. Nanami’s hearing was never quite the same. But he senses eyes on his back, and turns.

“I didn't mean to wake you, love.” He says.

“You didn't. I was having a hard time staying asleep anyway,” you say, “what’re you making?”

“Mushroom udon and gyoza,” he says, “it’s gonna be kind of a late dinner, but I thought it sounded good.”

“Smells good,” you say.

One of his hands finds your much smaller ones. Your fingers lace with his. His hands are warm, and calloused from years of using his weapon.

“Remind me to get more tea when I head into town tomorrow,” you say, “oh- and rice too. We were getting low the last time I checked. Do you want to go too?”

He nods. He makes a silent note to add those, along with laundry soap to the shopping list.

Before, he hated going into town. Strangers poked and prodded, and asked about his scars. It's gotten better as time goes on. If cravings struck you in the middle of the night, he would be up and ready to bring you something. Craving the mochi only sold by a specific shop in Tokyo? It doesn't matter if he had to take the train all the way to the city, he’d do it. Your arms wrap around his waist from behind. He’s a bit too tall for you to rest your head on his shoulder from behind. You have to stand on the tips of your toes to press a kiss to his cheek. He smells faintly of laundry soap, and shampoo. His stubble brushes against your lips. You always liked when he grew it out.

He pulls you so you stand in front of him, your back against his chest. His hands find the swell of your belly, wrapping around you protectively. Nanami plants a kiss on the top of your head. It's one of the few moments you feel truly normal. You’re no longer sorcerers, but a couple sharing a romantic moment, one building a life together.

He’s hardly allowed any distance between you two. Nanami acts like you’re made out of glass. He’s almost afraid to touch you. God forbid you try to lift something too heavy, or help out with the housework. He’s on you in an instant, trying to get you to rest. He’s a bit overbearing when it comes to things that aren't good for the baby. No alcohol, no caffeine, no overexerting yourself. You didn't miss alcohol all that much, but you really miss coffee. At times his presence can be suffocating. He means well, even if it gets on your nerves.

When the noodles are done, he gathers two bowls- part of a set given to you as a wedding gift. You only brought them out to use when your parents would visit. Much of the time they spent gathering dust. You always talked about using them more, but never got the opportunity to. He figures now is as good a time as ever. You set the table, setting out a few candles. He’d break out a bottle of sake if you could drink, but you just settle for tea.

"Retirement looks good on you," you say.

“It looks good on you too,” he says.

Conversation carries on while you eat. The topic falls onto mundane things that make his heart flutter only when you talk about them. You make plans to go shopping in the morning. You need groceries, and there’s a new shop opening up in town that you want to check out. When you’re done eating, you help him clean up. You clear the table while he gets the dishes.

He’s finally found his place. Not in jujutsu or human society. Not among sorcerers or regular people. His place is beside you.

And each day, he finds himself falling more hopelessly in love.

#jjk x reader #nanami x reader #nanami kento x reader #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #nanami fluff #nanami kento #fluff #jjk manga spoilers

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pillow-anime-talk · 4 years ago

Text

genshin month ; third day.

synopsis: You and your fiancé started spending less and less time together.

# tags: scenario; current relationship; romance; mild angst; also fluff; sfw with suggestive ending

includes: female reader ft. albedo & sucrose {genshin impact}

author’s note: it’s time for some fucking angst but with happy end, friends.

You packed a delicious-looking breakfast into a special bamboo box, and then wrapped both the beautifully scented bento and the paper bag with chocolate cookies in a much larger piece of colorful fabric to make it all more convenient to carry. A proud smile graced your face as you turned to greet Albedo, whose footsteps you heard in the distance.

“Hello, darling.” You greeted him warmly and then felt a sweet kiss in the middle of your hot forehead. “Breakfast is on the table, and here, I packed your dinner. Please, eat it later, okay?” You added softly, touching his delicate skin on his cheek by your left hand, and the man nodded gently, after a while, however, nestling your body into his slightly larger and warmer. “Huh? Something happened?”

“Well... I know, I promised you that today we will spend some time together and go for a walk, but I will have to stay longer at work.” He confessed hesitantly, and you sighed under your breath.

“After all, you are our Chief Alchemist, I’m not really surprised. Has Jean commissioned you to do something important?” Curious, you asked, and he shook his head, which made you a bit confused. So you raised an eyebrow, gesturing for him to answer you truthfully.

“Sucrose asked me to help her with alchemy, so I’ll stay with her a little longer to help her master some of the things.” He admitted calmly, and your expression becomes blank. Ah, right. You could have figured out that the reason for all of this is your fiance’s helper, Sucrose.

You moved away from his body, then sighed; nevertheless, a weak smile appeared on your face. Not very honest, but Albedo didn’t seem to notice it.

“It’s okay, love. Let’s go eat our breakfast. I made your favorite vegetable and mushroom omelets.”

{ ･ﾟ✧ }

Hours after Albedo left the house, you realized that you forgot to add a thermos with coffee to his large bento. You decided to quickly fix your mistake and prepared his favorite, strong drink. You also took some fresh fruit and packed it in a small cloth bag. On its front there was a beautiful bouquet that you had embroidered yourself a few days earlier.

Even though you were confused by the behavior of your lover, you couldn’t stop worrying about him. He was the most important person for you, he was your beloved second half, he was also the best human you have ever met, so you wanted to repay him for looking after you and making sure that nothing bad would ever happen to you. Albedo cared for you as best he could and you appreciated it like nothing else in the world. However, for a long time you have had the impression that this care and interest in you begins and ends in your shared home, where no one is looking, where no one is allowed to enter.

Your weekly walks around the city were a thing of the past, and you didn’t want to ask for them every time. Your ‘family’ lunches were no longer shared lunches, because you ate them alone while the twenty-two-years-old was in his lab or carrying out his missions. Your tenderness was limited to kisses on the forehead, and you missed kisses on the mouth, on the nose, on other parts of the body. Not to mention about long baths together or time spent in bed (not necessarily reading books, but something... more intimate).

Nevertheless, you weren’t particularly angry, maybe a bit disappointed, but you didn’t feel angry with your partner. The only thing you could feel at that time was your concern about whether Albedo takes care of himself and takes care of his daily menu or the right amount of water consumed throughout the whole day.

The road to the place where the young man’s laboratory was located took you less than twenty minutes. Along the way, you greeted the inhabitants of Mondstadt, who, seeing you, wished you a nice day and asked you to greet, quoting their words, ‘The Great Captain’. At the sound of their joyfull voices you smiled slightly, nodding your head and promising you would do it. And as soon as you got to the right place, you quietly entered the building. You wanted to say ‘Good afternoon’ to your loved one and green-haired teenager, but instead you almost felt that the bag of products falling out of your hands.

You knew Albedo cherished you and would never cheat on you, but it hurt to see him leaning forward next to Sucrose. It seemed that his lips were about to touch her cheek or temple, and it hurt as badly as any other form of cheating. He had so much fun with her and their alchemy, so many topics to talk about, from work to missions they were given, and you? All you two could talk about was only... Yeah, was what?

“Umm... Albedo?” Your peaceful voice spread over the fairly large room, and two people next to the wooden table looked up at your standing figure. “I forgot to pack your coffee in the morning... I’ll put it here and I won’t disturb you two anymore. Don’t overstraining yourselves, okay?” Your faint smile covered a broken voice and trembling lips. “Good luck with your work and study. Do your best.”

You quickly put the silvery thermos and colorful fruit on the dark cabinet, and just as quickly left the room. Albedo, seeing your figure disappearing, apologized to his assistant, and she nodded. But before the blonde alchemist left the room, Sucrose grabbed him by the black sleeve of his clothes and laughed shyly.

“Mr. Albedo, I don’t think I need any extra lessons today, though. We can arrange a different date. Will it be okay?” Her girlish voice reached his ears, and he mechanically agreed, breathing blissfully. “Thank you. Please keep Mrs. Y/N company tonight. I think she misses you really much.”

The knight wanted to answer, but instead he ran after you, catching you up almost at the exit of the brick building. He took your sad face slowly between his all, long fingers and you frowned.

“Why are you leaving? You’re always welcome here, darling.”

“I just don’t want to disturb you two, Albedo. I don’t fit here.” You admitted finely, and your gaze shifted to the mahogany panels under your feet. “Sometimes I wonder why you are with me. I don’t even understand alchemy, you can’t talk to me about it. You should... Maybe you should be with Sucrose? Or with another woman who shares your hobbies...?” You asked tenderly, and he opened his eyes wider, pulling your body into a warm embrace.

“I never thought of leaving you for someone else, dearest. Why are you talking about this at all? What happened?”

Your eyes met his deep blue orbs again, and you shrugged timidly.

“Currently, Sucrose is closer to you than I am. I thought you were bored with me. Moreover – I don’t thi...”

A precious kiss on your blueberry-tasting lips silenced your thoughts and at the same time caused a tiny blush on your both cheeks and ear tips.

“Sucrose is my successor, it’s true. But, my love. You are my future wife and you’re definitely more important to me than she is. Please don’t ever think that I will leave you for someone else. You are the best thing... no, you’re the best person that enter to my life and I love you very, very much. Also... Sucrose always asks about you and says she wants to be like you. Like someone who know how to cook or bake, sew clothes and plushies, make beautiful hairstyles like the ones on my head. She admires you as someone admires their mother. Sometimes I have the feeling that she would rather be your apprentice than mine.” He laughed cutely, and you looked at him in big surprise. After a short while, however, you nodded, resting your head on his smooth neck. “... I know I’ve been neglecting you lately and I’m ashamed of it, but now I promise to make it up to you. Therefore, let’s go home and tomorrow we’ll go for a walk to the lake or for a picnic.”

“Huh? But your job? Extra-curricular activities...? And what about...”

“Don’t think about anything. We’re done now so let’s go, dear. I have to show you how different you are from other people when it comes to my feelings.” Suddenly his mouth was right next to your left ear, and warm breath wrapped around your face. “And I don’t promise you’ll fall asleep tonight.”

“... A-Albedo!”

previous day ; aether ♡ next day ; keqing

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hangovercurse · 4 years ago

Text

The Things We Can’t Tell Pete About

Pete invites you to meet his friends from The Dirt and makes you promise not to flirt with any of them, which is a lot easier said than done, especially when Colson Baker acts like that.

Request: “Hey so I love all your writing and I just thought you should know that! But also I’d your requests are on still would you mind writing a youre Pete’s little sister but kells got a crush xx”

Colson x reader

Warnings: Drug use, Cursing

A/N: I know, Dom (Yungblud) wrote the song, but also I am the writer and I say that Y/N wrote it :) Anyways, enjoy. This is only part 1 of what is probably going to be a fun, cute lil series. Also thank you to the anon who sent this! You made my day(s)

Word Count: 2411

| ii | iii | iv | v |

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New York was lonely without your brother. He had been filming in New Orleans for the past three months, leaving you alone. You had some friends, but Pete was your best friend. You were only eight months younger than him and practically attached at the hip. You supposed going through trauma together would do that to people.

He facetimed you all the time from set, updating you on things in his life, showing you cool stuff from the set, and introducing you to his castmates. You had kept him updated on your music, playing him demos of songs you were writing and getting his opinion on them.

Him being away wasn’t the worst thing in the world, but it definitely sucked for you. So, when Pete texted you that he was having a few friends from the movie over the night he got back, you were ecstatic.

Before you left your apartment to walk to his, he texted you.

You’re not allowed to flirt with any of my friends

You rolled your eyes as you locked your door, preparing a response.

I’ll try my best

Your phone buzzed seconds later.

I’m serious. I don’t trust any of them with you.

And I don’t need that kind of awkwardness in my life

Like if you date one of my friends and it goes badly

I don’t wanna deal with that shit

You chuckled at his chain of texts.

Don’t flirt with your friends because they’re dicks, got it

Don’t worry bro, I know the sibling code

You came to find out that that was a lot easier said than done. When you walked into his place, everyone in the room turned to look at you. You recognized most of them from your facetimes with Pete, but you doubted they remembered who you were. One who did remember you was Colson, Pete’s new best friend. He made eye contact with you from across the room, a sly grin on his lips. You sent him a small smile, Pete’s text running through your head briefly.

You found your brother lounging on the couch, a huge grin on his face. He was definitely tripping on mushrooms. “Y/N!” He yelled. “This is my baby sister, everyone.”

You rolled your eyes, walking further into the room, grabbing a drink from the cooler, and taking an empty seat on the opposite couch. “I’m less than a year younger than you, Pete.”

You heard a snicker from the one of the guys, looking over to see Colson covering up the smile on his face. “But you’re still younger than me so it counts.”

Everyone went back to their own conversations, which you were thankful for. “Y/N, you remember Colson, right?” Pete motioned to the blond guy.

“Yeah.” You nodded, looking him up and down. His muscle tank exposed the sleeves of tattoos, which seemed to cover every inch of his skin. “Your hair was different, but yeah I remember you.” You opened the beer on the coffee table, taking a swig.

“You’re the musician, right?” He asked you, leaning back onto the couch.

You nodded, “Aspiring musician but, yeah.”

“Oh, she’s great. You should hear her sometime.” Pete butted in, grinning like an idiot at you.

You rolled your eyes but had a smile on your face. “I work primarily as a songwriter and editor right now, but I’m trying to work on putting out some of my own stuff.”

You felt a little intimidated talking to Machine Gun Kelly about music, seeing as he was one of the best in the industry, but he seemed to be genuinely interested in your work. “Well, if you ever want some help or someone to listen to it, I’d be willing.” He flashed a smile, his bright blue eyes sparkling.

“Thanks, that’s really cool of you.” You bit your lip slightly, trying to hide the fact that you were totally breaking Pete’s rule.

Pete sent a glare your way to which you raised your eyebrow. You weren’t really flirting; you were just… making connections. “Anyways,” he cleared his throat, “I’ve been working on this sketch idea, Y/N, and I need your opinion.”

You nodded, letting him talk. “So, I was thinking like, there’s this guy with posters all over his wall. Like life size posters of a bunch of different people. And he falls asleep while doing homework and he dreams about them coming to life. And it plays out like one of those really bad commercials that encourage kids to stay in school and shit. Like the posters are telling him to study for his test, but then there’s this one poster that’s like, very sexy. And she’s just like, talking about hot dogs and everyone else gets really sick of it and one of the other posters tries to like, tear down her poster or something.”

Throughout his description, you got more and more confused. “Pete, that’s not funny that’s just fuckin weird.” His mouth hung open in shock. “Dude, seriously? The big punchline is the playboy poster girl talking about hot dogs until the other poster people get tired of it?”

“Yes.” Pete said, as if it were obvious. “That’s hilarious.” You glanced at Colson with a questioning look on your face. He seemed as unsure of the joke as you were.

“Pete, man, that’s not your best work.” Colson clapped him on the shoulder and you giggled at Pete’s disappointed expression.

“You guys are mean.” He pouted and you two laughed. “Ok, well, how would you make it funny?”

“I don’t know if you can, bro.” Colson’s laugh was contagious. When he laughed his whole body shook, his feet stomping and everything.

“What are the other posters?” You asked, trying to be supportive but knowing this wouldn’t turn out very good.

“Well, I was thinking maybe one is like a video game character. Like that lady from Wreck-It-Ralph. The mean one. And then like a snowboarder who is definitely high, and someone else, I dunno.” He shrugged, taking a hit from the joint in his hand and passing it to you.

“Okay…” You trailed off, looking at Colson for support. You brought the blunt to your lips, inhaling the smoke and bringing it down, letting the smoke leave your mouth slowly. You passed the joint to Colson, who gladly took it, a smirk on his face.

Pete looked between you two at the small interaction, a frown. “So, the posters,” he brought your attention away from the man again, “they’re all really serious about teaching this dude math. But the hotdog girl just keeps talking about hot dogs in like this really high-pitched voice.”

You watched the smoke fall from Colson’s lips, not fully paying attention to your brother.

“Yeah man, I think that sounds funny.” Colson told Pete, his eyes lingering on you for a little longer than they should have. “It could use some work but if anyone can make it funny, it’s you.” Colson punched your brother on the shoulder, but the look he sent you said the exact opposite.

You held in your giggle, taking another sip of your beer.

The rest of the night followed a similar pattern, you and Colson flirting and Pete trying to get in between you two. At one point, after a few more hits of weed and a couple more drinks, Colson brought out a guitar, insisting you play something for him. Where he got the guitar from, you had no idea, but you didn’t ask questions. Instead, you rolled your eyes, insisting that “if I have to play something, so do you.”

Everyone was too caught up in their own conversations to care about the noise, or too drunk. You started strumming, trying to remember the chords to a song you had started writing a few days ago. “There’s no lyrics yet, just a melody I came up with.” You blushed, feeling very self-conscious suddenly.

“Guess I’ll just free style to it then.” He chuckled as you started to strum, your fingers working the strings like they had your whole life.

The blond man closed his eyes, head nodding as you played and thinking of what to rap.

“Watch me, take a good thing and fuck it all up in one night. Catch me, I’m the one on the run away from the headlights.

No sleep, up all week wastin time with people I don’t like. I think, somethin’s fuckin wrong with me.

You smiled as he sang, watching his expressions change as he tried to think up the next line.

Drown myself in alcohol, that shit never helps at all

I might say some stupid things tonight when you pick up this call

I be hearin silence on the other side for way to long, I can taste it on my tongue, I can tell that somethin’s wrong.”

He opened his eyes, looking rather proud of himself. “I had some of those lyrics already, but I just changed ‘em a little. I really liked that.”

You nodded, “That was impressive.” You smiled, looking back down to the guitar when something hit you.

You began to play the same melody but pitched higher to fit your voice.

“Roll me up, and smoke me love

And we could fly into the night

You take drugs, to let go, and figure it all out on your own

Take drugs, on gravestones, to figure it all out on your own.”

You looked up to Colson, watching his expression change, his eyes wide. Pete had a proud look on his face.

“Pete, you are a sucky hype man. You did her no justice.” Colson hit Pete on the arm.

“Whaddya mean, I told you she was great.”

Colson looked over to you, a stupid smile on his face. “Seriously, that was fucking amazing. Like, we gotta write that shit out some day.”

You bit your lip, trying to stop the blush from reaching your cheeks. “Yeah, that’d be cool.” You were trying your best to keep your cool as Colson kept his gaze on you, but you were completely freaking out on the inside.

A little while later, almost everyone was gone except you, Pete, Colson, and Douglas Booth, who joined your conversation not long after your jam session. Pete let out a yawn, directing your attention to the time.

“Jesus, it’s already 4am?” You asked, a frown on your face.

“Why, you got somewhere to be, darling?” Douglas asked you, your face scrunching up from the nickname.

“I have a writing session at 11 am tomorrow. Or, today, I guess.”

Pete reached out to hit you in the head, playfully, which you dodged. “Go to bed, dummy.”

You shrugged, “I’m gonna be dead at it anyways, might as well keep the party going a little longer.”

Douglas rolled his eyes, patting your shoulder. “Be that as it may, I am ending this party and going home. Goodnight, guys. It was nice meeting you again, Y/N. Good to see you guys.” Douglas and the guys did that little hand slap and hug thing before he left.

“I love you both, but I will also be going to sleep. And you should too.” Pete stood up, stretching his arms out before giving Colson a fist bump and leaving to his bedroom.

Once your older brother left, Colson moved to the couch you were on, his arm falling over your shoulders. You looked up at him, raising an eyebrow. “And how can I help you Mr. Kelly?”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “I’m assuming Pete gave us both very similar talking to’s, given the glares you’ve been receiving all night.”

“You mean the “don’t flirt with my friends” talking to or the other one?” You tilted your head, a sly look on your face.

“That’s the one.” Colson laughed through his nose, an adorable smile on his face. You were both considerably high, but you still knew exactly what you were doing.

You moved closer to Colson’s body, “Well then I guess we’d better not do this.” You said quietly, leaning into him. “Or this,” You grabbed his jaw, inches from his face.

“Or this?” He whispered, connecting your lips. You smiled into the kiss, tasting the weed on his tongue. You adjusted your body so you were facing him, his arm that was once around your shoulder now wrapped around your waist.

His other hand grabbed your leg, pulling you up so you were straddling his lap, and your arms wrapped around his neck. His lips seemed to fit perfectly around yours, and you did all you could to keep yourself from moaning into the kiss as his hand began to travel up your leg.

Realization hit you like a brick wall, and you pulled away, your breathing heavy. “Sorry,” you muttered after a few seconds. You climbed off his lap, smoothing out your shirt. “We shouldn’t do that. I shouldn’t have done that.” You smiled awkwardly down at him.

He nodded, the same realization hitting him. “Yeah, that’s not the best idea. Sorry I wasn’t really thinking.”

You shook your head, cheeks still very red. “No, no, no don’t apologize. It was fine, it’s all fine.”

He nodded, looking down awkwardly. “I should get going.” He stood up, landing a little too close to you.

“Why don’t you just sleep here? Pete won’t mind and it’s a lot easier than going home.” You bit your lip awkwardly, taking a few steps back.

Colson scratched the back of his neck. This was a very different demeanor than he had before, and you found it very cute. “Are you sure?”

You nod. “I’ll get you some blankets and pillows.” You moved towards the guest bedroom, a guilty smile on your face. You moved your hand to your lips, feeling where Colson’s lips had graced you minutes before.

You came back to find Colson laying on the couch, one hand behind his head. “We don’t have to tell Pete about that, right?”

You shook your head, a small smile still playing on your lips. You put the pillow behind his head, watching his eyes as he watched your lips. “Stop looking at me like that or I’ll do something else we can’t tell Pete about.” You said quietly, watching him grin. You pulled the blanket over him, leaning down to be level with his face.

“I kind of like the things we can’t tell Pete about.” Colson chuckled, leaning forward to connect your lips again.

#mgk #mgk imagine #mgk angst #mgk fluff #machine gun kelly #machine gun kelly imagine #Colson baker #colson x reader #colson baker imagine #colson baker fluff #colson baker angst #pete davidson

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axdently · 2 years ago

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𝑳𝑬𝑬 𝑱𝑶𝑵𝑮 𝑺𝑼𝑲, 𝑯𝑬/𝑯𝑰𝑴 𝑷𝑹𝑶𝑵𝑶𝑼𝑵𝑺, 𝑫𝑹𝑬𝑨𝑴𝑺𝑯𝑨𝑫𝑬

( 𝑪𝑼𝑹𝑺𝑬𝑫-𝑩𝑳𝑶𝑶𝑫, 𝑲𝑵𝑶𝑾𝑵 𝑻𝑶 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑷𝑼𝑩𝑳𝑰𝑪 )

To HAN JAE SONG, the whole world looks like an open page. With a leap of faith, their ability of FILTH MANIPULATION little stronger. They are a BLUE RINGED OCTOPUS shade aligned to HOUSE FRASER. For THIRTY-EIGHT years, they have survived a world of magic with both their CLEVERNESS and MESSINESS. They work as an Infectious Disease Specialist, but if they could change their fate, they’d want to keep his family safe and away from his own blood thirsty appetite.

─── 𝐃𝐄𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐋𝐒.

You’re not the type to reminisce over your childhood since it was, to your knowledge, one of the worst in the history of mankind. But one thing you can attribute to growing up in such a tragic story was learning how to create a poker face– to this day you wear a mask to the world, and keep those awful parts hidden as much as possible. The memories fester deep within but they will never fully surface– never again. They’d dragged you out of the forest by your arm–

They covered your face with cloth, and you were taken to a facility with bars and locked rooms. You don’t remember the letters or numbers on those doors– but you do remember a glowing EXIT sign so visible yet so far away. You didn’t understand why or how people could do the things that they did to you. You remember other little boys and girls in the same experimental labs– they’re wounds seemed far less severe than the rotting immune system you carried with every tiny footstep.

Friends weren’t a luxury and bonding in that torment, you’d find never suit you, until you met a twelve year old to teach you the ropes. He was a hero with no cape, a brother you couldn’t keep and a friend you still have to this day. In many ways he saved your life, but the pair of you are good at shrugging those things off.

─── 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐒.

NAME: Han Jae Song NICKNAME: Han DATE OF BIRTH: Jan 2, 1984 GENDER: cisgender man HEIGHT: 6'1" MARKINGS: acne scars from his past across his face, as well as a scar on his neck TATTOOS: a tiny series of tally marks calculating the number 27 on his neck PIERCINGS: none DECORUM: he prefers earth tones, and texture– tailored trousers with sweaters, since his office is always cold. SCENT: stale cigarettes with a vinegar tang which pairs well with wet earth and the ambroxan cologne he wears. GOALS: Survive & learn to live with his curse FEARS: Losing his family. POSITIVE TRAITS: resilient, assiduous, determined NEUTRAL TRAITS: innovative, quiet, cautious NEGATIVE TRAITS: sloppy temperamental, pompous ZODIAC: Capricorn Sun, Libra Moon, Aries Rising ALIGNMENT: chaotic evil TEMPERAMENT: choleric ELEMENT: earth PRIMARY VICE: gluttony PRIMARY VIRTUE: pride TROPE: Ambiguous Disorder, Blatant Lies, The Corruptor, Devil in Plain Sight, Dissonant Serenity INSPIRATION: a mix of Eve, from Killing Eve, & Hannibal from NBC’s Hannibal; internally monologues like Joe Goldberg from YOU & and will leech to the psyche like Marvel’s Venom. OCCUPATION: Infectious Disease Specialist RESIDENCE: A swamp somewhere, sometimes mushroom road, or a random cave. ( he’s homeless ) HOBBIES: reading greek tragedies alone in coffee shops, relationship advice podcasts on early morning runs, fermentation– sourdough bread-baking, at home kombucha brewing & storages of kimchi, wine-tasting, and gardening ( he’s far more interested in composting though ). HABITS: he picks at his skin, chews on his fingernails, and is constantly smoking. he’s, generally a messy person and thrives in filth. he also falls quiet, uncomfortably quiet when he’s uncomfortable, often losing himself in his thoughts– he’s also irritable in plain white rooms– or around the color white in general.

─── 𝐀𝐁𝐈𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐒.

FILTH MANIPULATION the ability to manipulate all aspects of filth, rot and putrefaction. ; User can create, manipulate, shape, transform, etc. any matter that is rotten or filthy (grime, dirtiness, stains, grunge, etc.), ranging from generation and manipulation of pus/ichor, mucus, slime (mucous secretions of animals), earwax, sweat and saliva, to full-out control over dead and decomposed matter; the user can also control moldy and mildewed matter, spoiled, rancid food, fetid water, polluted air, urine, vomit and feces.

VARIATION 1. FILTH CONSTRUCTS FILTH SNAPS - The power to create constructs from artificial materials with a snap of a finger inducing rot, speeding it up, negating it or sometimes reversing it. The user can even induce such foul conditions that makes water filled with bacteria and unsafe, making air (including breath) stifling and smelly, inducing rot and putrefaction in organic matter or even inducing bacterial infection on open wounds. DIRTY DUPLICATION - The ability to replicate oneself, others and/or objects through filth, rot or putrefaction

VARIATION 2. MIASMA EMISSION

MIASMIC MURMUR - The power to emit a variety of toxic gasses. User can exude toxic gasses, causing various effects on others who inhale these fumes including hyperstimulation, lethargy, coma. Because gas diffuses indefinitely in concentration, it becomes less potent and less concentrated once it has expanded.

VARIATION 3. MOLD MANIPULATION

MOLD MOLTING - The ability to manipulate mold and mold spores. The user can create, shape and manipulate mold, a large and taxonomically diverse number of fungal species where the growth of hyphae results in discoloration and a fuzzy appearance, especially on food. They can cause fungi to grow, move/attack or even rise from the soil and "walk", mutate fungi by rearranging DNA structure, etc. MOLD EMPATHY- The power to sense the overall well-being and conditions of mold spores, as well as fully interpret their emotions and communicate with them.

─── 𝐈𝐍𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘 .

1.HIGH SURGEON’S SCALPEL : Created by benevolent necromancers who study the mysteries of anatomy, this magic scalpel can deal death or perform medical miracles in the hands of a skilled surgeon.

2. PENMASTER’S POISON : A rare poison commonly used in letters, a bright green liquid when in a cool environment turns into lethal colorless and odorless vapors. If used in a letter, only a small amount is needed to be applied near the wax seal; so when the seal is broken, the liquid vaporizes and spells painful death to anyone present

3. RING OF THE RODENT : The wearer of this ring can speak to any rodent, especially rats.

4. BAG OF BEANS : When dumping the beans out on the ground, they explode in a 10-foot radius. If you remove a bean from the bag, plant it in dirt or sand, and then water it, the bean produces shriekers sprout as a diversion

5. DAGGER OF VENOM : A magical dagger coated with thick, black poison.

6. OIL OF SLIPPERINESS : This sticky black unguent is thick and heavy in the container, but it flows quickly when poured. The oil can cover a Medium or smaller creature, along with the equipment it's wearing and carrying. Alternatively, the oil can be poured on the ground as an action, where it covers a 10-foot square, duplicating the effect of greased flooring.

7. TOME OF CLEAR THOUGHT : contains memory and logic exercises to help with meditation.

8. VIAL OF CRYPT MOLD : Found in swamps and caves– poisonous if placed on the skin, used for brewing embalming paste.

9. MOLDERING WET-STONE : Used to sharpen any blade, imbued with CONTAGION

─── 𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒 .

1. CONTAGION : Your touch inflicts disease:

BLINDING SICKNESS: Pain grips the creature’s mind, and its eyes turn milky white.

FILTH FEVER: A raging fever sweeps through the creature’s body.

FLESH ROT. The creature’s flesh decays.

MINDFIRE: The creature’s mind becomes a feverish swamp

SLIMY DOOM: The creature begins to leak black ichor from their ears uncontrollably.

2. BLIGHT : Necromantic energy washes over a creature of your choice that you can see within range, draining moisture and vitality from it.

3. CIRCLE OF GRIME : A sphere of decaying energy ripples out in a 60-foot-radius sphere from a point within range.

4. GENTLE REPOSE: You touch a corpse or other remains– the target is protected from decay and can't become Undead.

5. DISINTEGRATE- A thin green ray springs from your pointing finger to a target that you can see within range. The target can be a creature, an object, or a creation of magical force.

6. LIFE TRANSFERENCE - The ability to sacrifice some of your health to mend another creature’s injuries. The creature becomes stable as you become unstable. This spell has no effect on undead or constructs. This spell can’t return to life a creature that has died of old age, nor can it restore any missing body parts.

7. DANSE MACABRE - Threads of rot leap from your fingers to pierce up to five small creatures of decay you can see within range.. To receive the command, a creature must be within 60 feet of you. You decide what action the creatures will take and where they will move during their next turn, or you can issue a general command, such as to guard a chamber or passageway against your foes.

#cagintro #cag: intro #⸻𝒃𝒍𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕-𝒊𝒔𝒎𝒔: intro.#⸻ 𝒃𝒍𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕-𝒊𝒔𝒎𝒔 ; INTRO.

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muutosarchive · 2 years ago

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S𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐝𝐝𝐥𝐲 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬.

1. What does your muse smell like ?

well, it’s usually pretty much the same. he reeks like cigarettes, because he’s always smoking. the fingers are the worst. his breath kind of smells of like cigarettes, unless he’s also been drinking. he’s a scotch kind of man - & so he’ll also smell of that, too. his suits all have this faint sort of cigarette smell, on them. it’s basically embedded in the fabric. also, he wears musky colognes. nothing fruity or full bodied, either. he can also have that smell of blood or sweat, depending on what he’s been doing. he’s also known to eat a lot of chocolate, so it can also linger on his breath as well... but, also sex & beer sometimes.

2. What do your muse’s hands feel like ?

okay so, richard only has one hand obviously... but, he keeps it nice. since he’s come into money, it’s hard for him not to want to keep himself looking as good as possible. not to mention the fact that it’s important for him personally. he’s a ladies man, with a god complex. he gets manicures, & when i say manicures i mean full. pedicures, too. just no nail polish down there, as he would with his fingers. always black paint, & this process always keeps his hands soft. he can have cut up knuckles at any point, or scabbed knuckles. as well as bruises, sometimes. but his hands are actually even more soft because they’re not skinny, or bony. he has kind of a round, soft/plush hand. it’s proportionate, really. so while it’s not fat per-se, it has some give to it. he moisturizes, too.

3. What does your muse usually eat in a day ?

black coffee, & cigarettes for breakfast. maybe some greasy sandwich with sausage, if he’s super starving. but he slathers mayonnaise on it. he eats nothing for lunch, unless he’s going out. he keeps himself busy for work, plus he does cocaine all the time so he’s usually got a shitty appetite during the day. if he didn’t eat breakfast, he’ll order something from somewhere. he likes american chinese, but he’ll usually order like roast beef sandwiches or he’s found a place with okay bratwurst. he probably drinks a beer around lunchtime to keep him full, and also maybe some chocolate treats he’s stored in his office. dinners are steak or some rare meat/potatoes combo if he’s at a restaurant. if not, he’ll order something of the like or if he’s home with till & the guys, he’ll have the chef make it. prime rib, hamburgers, steak - anything like that. roast beef / horseradish. uhhhh, he’ll also always do potatoes (scalloped, mashed, baked). vegetables, too. usually. also, red wine with dinner to go with the food & then he’ll switch to scotch.

4. Does your muse have a good singing voice ?

yeah, to be honest. he doesn’t sing often unless it’s to songs he really likes, but i gave him kruspe’s voice & the guy has a nice voice. although his accent is written all over his, & he’s still got that lisp/issues with pronouncing english. & it’s not disguised by his singing, at all. but it’s cute, & he can carry a tune very well..

5. Does your muse have any bad habits or nervous ticks ?

he chain smokes, drinks almost all throughout the back half of the day, & is a functioning cocaine addict. he’ll also do other drugs like acid, mushrooms, and weed. he smokes weed in the evenings usually, though. he also inhales really sharply, a lot. like just, an audible sucking in of air. he talks with his hand(s)... he clenches his jaw A LOT of the time, due to the cocaine & combination of drugs / stress. he says ‘er’ a lot, when he speaks - like an ‘um’ or something like that. as far as other ‘bad habits’ go, he’s a sex addict / serial cheater. he’s got a tendency to start fights, & he’s a pathological liar. however, he can control his impulses when he wants to.

6. What does your muse usually look like / wear ?

he’s almost always wearing a suit. whether or not he’s got his jacket on, is optional. a lot of the time he’s missing it, and just rocks the shirt/tie/slacks combo. he also switches between a thin black tie, or bowtie. he likes the bowtie better, though. it’s always a black suit, white shirt, black tie. when he’s really casual, he’s wearing designer sweatpants or jeans & a tank top, or black button-up shirt. but that’s basically it, for variety. his hair is also usually styled in a spikey manner, & he shaves his face regularly but he’s not opposed to some heavy stubble.

7. Is your muse affectionate ? How much ? How so ?

he can be. although, whether it’s genuine or not is always up in the air. if it is genuine, he’ll usually be really high, or really wants to fuck. he’s always charming & cool, & touchy/feely until he gets what he wants. after he’s very cold, unless you’re in a ‘relationship’ of any kind, or he gives any sort of a fuck about you. even then, he’ll hold you for a while until he gets bored. if he’s in a more masochistic/submissive headspace though he’s very very attention starved and likes to have people stroke through his hair. he’s also been known to lie his head in people’s laps. if you are his significant other, or something to that affect, he’ll hold you more possessively. hand on the back of your neck, the small of your back. grabbing your ass, holding you against him. stuff like that. but it’s all in public. behind closed doors he’ll accept affection if it serves him, or if it’s stroking his ego. he won’t turn you down if you wanna sit in his lap & tell him how sexy he is. or, if he thinks sex will come out of it.

8. What position does your muse sleep in ?

On his stomach, or his back. he’ll usually start on his stomach, & if he moves he’ll wind up on his back. his arm will be beside his head, with his stump stuck under the pillow. or, on his back he’ll rest his hand on his chest & the other hand by his side. his mouth will be open, & he snores softly.

9. Could you hear your muse in the hallway from another room ?

yeah, probably. his speaking voice isn’t terribly loud, & he’s got average sounding footsteps. but when he yells, he can get scarily loud. & if he’s throwing things, or something, it gets worse.

✨ TAGGED BY: @diicktective <3 ✨ TAGGING: steal it, if you want !

#diicktective #misc * / out of character #richard ziegler * / headcanon #headcanon.#tw cocaine #tw drug use #tw addiction #tw abusive behaviour #tw triggering content

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zmediaoutlet · 4 years ago

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(read on AO3)

Sam’s cast comes off in Youngstown, Ohio. Dean offers to buzz it off with a chainsaw and Sam rolls his eyes. They go to an Urgent Care instead. Dean sends Sam inside with a fake insurance card that says Scott Smalls and idles in the lot for a while, watching the sliding glass doors. It’s cold and he doesn’t want to be here. There’s nowhere else to be. He wants to be sitting in there with Sam making fun of him for getting his arm fucked up by some co-eds ghost. He wants—

A motel. Two beds because—two beds. He orders pizza, extra mushrooms and sausage, and walks to the liquor store next door, and the clerk is one of those guys who looks at Dean’s mouth before he meets Dean’s eyes. Dean adds a bag of chips from the impulse rack to his pile and smiles with lots of teeth.

He has a drink. He refills his flask. He sits on the bed with his bags on it and looks at the other bed, and then he gets out his shotgun and cleans it, trying to focus: there’s the barrel in his hands and the smooth sweep of the brush, and the oil that needs applying here, and there. The heavy action of the trigger. He points the barrel at the purple carpet between his boots and pulls the trigger, feeling it, and makes the pew gun sound to the empty room. He lets the barrel sink down to the floor and lets his head sink, too, his shoulders tight and his spine feeling like it’s slotted wrong into his back, somehow, like from the base of his skull all the way down to his tailbone it’s an inch off. How long since he slept well? He can’t remember. That haunted hotel—

The pizza arrives. He tips the kid a ten and asks for extra parmesan. First slice hot enough that he burns the roof of his mouth like always. He eats it fast, anyway, and then sits back in the weird vinyl bucket chair at the table, tipping his head back. He’s tired. Tired, tired. The ceiling has a stain like a coffee spill, a pale brown lake spread on the popcorn, and he looks at it. Imagines a lake of coffee to swim in. Imagines adding creamer, sweet’n’low. How it’d swirl through the seaweed. Caffeinated fish. Fuck, he’s tired. He’s tonguing the blister forming behind his front teeth when his phone beeps. Out in two minutes. Dean presses his tonguetip up into the tender spot where it aches, sits there and looks at the phone screen for a while, and then goes to get his brother.

Sam takes a shower when they get back, ignoring the pizza. “Getting cold,” Dean says, but Sam’s throwing off his big brown coat onto the same bed that Dean’s bags are on and he says, “I know, but—ugh, I forgot how weird this feels, I need to—” and he’s pulling off his shirts over his head so Dean doesn’t quite hear what he needs but there’s Sam smooth tanned back and his hair all ruffled up around his head before he finally makes it into the bathroom, and the water crashes on, and Dean turns his face away from Sam stripping all the way down and thinks, screw it, and has his share of the pizza while he’s waiting.

Sam smiled when he saw the car, even if Dean left him standing out there by the entrance for ten minutes. He waved so Dean could see his freed hand, and he'd blown into the passenger seat in a billow of cold air and the smell of antiseptic, and he'd sighed like it was a relief. "Doctor didn't cut my arm off," he said, with a smile like he was sharing a joke, and Dean found his mouth tugging up, like it hadn't done in, what. Six hundred miles. Since Massachusetts. It still worked. Imagine that.

Sam’s always fast in the shower, because he doesn’t appreciate the finer things in life. The water shuts off when Dean's uncapping a beer to wash down his half-a-pizza and so Dean uncaps a second and sets it on the other side of the table. Rattle of the shower rings, and then through the open rectangle of the doorway Sam's arm appears, weird pale flash as he yanks the purple towel off the rack above the crapper. Dean swivels his chair around to face the doorway and drinks his beer, stretching out in hopes that somehow his spine will align right if he gets long enough, and so he's watching when Sam reappears—same old boxers tugged on, white undershirt, rubbing his hair dry uncareful and fast. Dean swallows a too-big gulp of beer and coughs. Sam, hunched over the toilet, white shirt and sweat in his hair. A secret clanging in Dean's throat. But—no—Sam walks out into the room bringing the smell of pine-fresh and damp and he says, "Man, I needed that," and he says, "I'm starving, did you get—" and Dean pushes the extra parm packets toward him, and Sam drops down easy into the other stupid bucket chair like he hasn't got a care in the world, like everything's hunky-dory because he asked Dean please to kill him, if it weren't any trouble, if things got too bad. Cast off and hair clean and food in front of him and his world seems to be spinning right. He slept, all the way through Pennsylvania. There aren't any dark circles under his eyes.

Plenty of cold pizza in their past. Sam eats and makes a surprised sound at the second, third bite. "Actually pretty good," he says, through a half-full mouth, and Dean nods. Feels too hard to form a sentence. He tongues the blister, watches Sam. "You check the news?" Sam says, and the remote's right there on Dean's side of the open pizza box so he finds a channel. The volume's so low he can't make out the words as the anchor-lady's mouth shapes them. The caption below says Robberies Continue. Sam squints at the television and shrugs a shoulder, and sips his beer, and they sit there quiet while Sam finishes his dinner and watches the news, and Dean sits and watches Sam.

He's been bulking up. Dean doesn't see his shoulders bared like this, not enough. Not nearly enough. His shoulders, and his arms swelling out of the short sleeves of that undershirt. Tan, still, somehow, even when it's been so cold and half the time they're both bundled up under coats—except for his healed-up arm, skinny and pale, the hair on it dark enough to look black. Sam's wrist is white, so that the veins stand out thick blue when he lifts the beer bottle, and Dean's thinking, blueblood. Blood. Blood of my blood, bone of my bone. Where did he read that? Somewhere. A romance novel, maybe, or maybe somewhere else, but now that he's thought it it's stuck in his head. Sam finishes his beer and Dean's just sitting there, tired, and his back still hurts, and Sam's shoulders are beautiful, and those bones, they're Dean's, aren't they? The bones that make his shoulders that broad and that make him that tall, the ones in his wrist that healed up finally, the long solid bones of his thighs and his shin and his sharp knees that get Dean, sometimes, in the night, if they fall asleep somehow together. How could he ever think that Dean would. How could he make Dean make that promise. When it'd be like breaking his own arm. His spine.

He's had—a gulp of whiskey, a beer. Two beers. Not enough booze to be thinking about this. Sam pushes his better hand through his hair, settling messy and half-dry around his head, and holds his beer with the pale hand, and flexes his fingers around the brown glass, closing them again. Dean pushes his tongue hard around the hard ridge of the roof of his mouth and says, "Hey, Sammy," and it comes out brittle, weird. Sam looks at him. Mild furrow, mouth soft. The TV-light on his cheek. Dean licks his lips and Sam's eyes drop, like they do, when Dean licks his lips, when Sam sees his mouth and isn't thinking about other things. Dean wants not to think. It'll do.

The move to his knees isn't graceful. He sort of slumps out of his chair. Sam's already spun away from the table to watch the newscast and Dean can get right up inside the spread of his legs, and he grips Sam's shins and drags his hands up and Sam says, "What," startled, but just at the speed Dean thinks rather than at the action. He slides his hands up over Sam's knees and gets his thighs, ropy muscle rather than thick, and he squeezes up there where Sam's boxers end and Sam says, quiet, "Dean?" but Dean doesn't—he just doesn't want to talk about it, at all.

"You're killing me, Smalls," he says, a joke that's barely a joke so Sam'll just let him do it. And Sam huffs, and touches the back of his hand with the fingers of the hand that was hurt, and Dean ignores that and slides up and up inside the leg of Sam's boxer shorts until he finds—the warm heavy weight of his nuts, and his dick, soft now but warm, warm. Sam pulls in air above him and Dean kneels up higher, ass up on his bootheels, sliding his other hand around to Sam's hip, to his ass. Leaning in, over Sam's lap, and Sam's up above him and touches the back of his neck instead, inside the leather collar of his coat, his finger sliding underneath the cord of Dean's amulet, his nail scratching a little while Dean squeezes, feels. Warm—the surge of blood—and Dean knows how to do this, always has, and he switches his grip to underhand and pulls, feeling Sam lengthen, thicken up, the head bumping the inside of his wrist. A squeeze at his shoulder and he shifts, grips the sloped arm of the chair with his free hand instead. Sam's legs spread wider and Dean pushes up the leg of the shorts to see—Sam's dick, full and flushed, the rosy-red head and the weight of it, the ropy vein along the underside that Dean runs his fingers along, feeling. The heavy shape of his sack still caught up in the thin cotton, warm and full, and Sam's fingers curl against the back of his neck, his hips tipping flat in the chair, his breath—against the back of Dean's ear—and Dean dips, licks his mouth wet and sucks the head in, and Sam says, "Fuck," soft but meaning it, meaning it. His hand slides from Dean's shoulder to his back, between his shoulderblades, and Dean tips his head and bolsters Sam's dick up and slides down, filling his mouth. Tasting. Clean, but still that bite of salt that makes it—Sam. That familiar taste, curling up under his tongue, making his mouth water. Making it right.

Sam's quiet, mostly. Lets Dean work. Dean sucks slow, doesn't use the tricks he knows. Slicks his tongue fat against the sweet soft ridge there at the head and feels Sam's thighs clench, and sits with his lips broken-open and lets Sam pulse thick and needing up against his soft palate. He slides his hands back down Sam's thighs and grips under Sam's knee, feels it tip in and dig into his side. He hums and Sam says, "Jesus," quietly, and then he laughs a little and says, "You're killing me, man," and Dean pulls off and looks at him, holding the fat pole of his dick warm in one hand, and Sam's looking at him—dark red pooled in the hollows of his cheeks and streaked down his throat, and his hair all fluffed and dry, and his eyes dark, bright. Lips red. Dean reaches up, drags his thumb over them, and Sam lets him—lets Dean's thumb drag his lower lip down, so Dean can see the white of his teeth—and Dean pumps Sam's dick wet in his fist and then ducks back down and sucks it in, meaning to finish the job this time, and it's not long really before Sam's clenching and gripping at him and lifting his hips helpless and pumping into him, his thighs shaking, his hands greedily tight at the back of Dean's neck and then soft, apologizing. When the bruise is already there. Dean swallows, keeps his mouth there. Sam's thighs jerk and close around his shoulders and Dean holds his balls through the thin barrier of the boxers and sucks, steady, making Sam shudder and say, "Too—too much, jesus—Dean—" but he doesn't shove Dean off and so Dean doesn't stop, taking everything he can until Sam's soft, heavy and sore inside his mouth, and only then does Dean pull back, and tuck his forehead down against Sam's leg, and breathe, slow.

His lips feel fat, tender. He's got his hands curled around Sam's hips but they're loose, and his legs have gone to sleep from kneeling so long but—he doesn't feel like moving, so they can just stay that way. He lets his head tip and Sam's fingers touch the little hollowish spot right at the very top of his spine. "Can I…?" says Sam, but Dean shakes his head as much as he can caught there in Sam's lap. He's hard, sort of, but it feels distant. Sam's thumb slides behind his ear. Dean sighs. He realizes, after a while, that his back doesn't hurt.

"You going to stay there all night?" Sam says, later.

Dean lifts his head. The room feels bright although he knows it isn't. Sam's dick has gone small, curled against his thigh, and Dean tugs his boxer-leg down so it's hidden again. A snort, above. Dean wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and his lips smear, tacky. He needs water. Sam's taste—bitter, but not as bitter as he could be—caught up in his mouth. He sits back and Sam sits forward, almost too fast, and he catches Dean's head between his hands and kisses him, shocky-quick, so Dean's still blinking and surprised when Sam lifts up, and looks him in the eyes. Dean licks his lips and it still tastes like Sam.

Sam thumb drags along his cheek. "C'mon," he says, and stands up, and pulls Dean along. Oh—rush of blood, pins and needles. Dean staggers and Sam catches him, steadies him. Even the thin arm with its fresh-healed bones, strong and sturdy. How does he manage it, Dean wonders. He's dizzy from the change in elevation, from being so tired. From taking Sam and yet never, ever being able to—to make Sam see—

"When did you sleep last?" Sam says, and drops Dean on the empty bed. Sam's bed. There's a glass of water, then, and Sam says, "Dude, take your boots off at least," so Dean drinks the water and takes off his boots, and his leather coat too, and lays down off-kilter. The mattress is softer than he thought it'd be. Sam sits next to him, backlit by the lamp, and Dean looks at the ends of his hair caught almost bronze, and the way the hairs on his arm gild the line of it, and how his body—his bones—

"Sorry," Sam says, but he doesn't sound sorry. Dean turns his head the other way on the pillow and squeezes his eyes closed. "I'll get you back in the morning. Will you even remember?"

I'll remember, Dean says, or maybe he only thinks it. Sam's weight sinks the bed at Dean's side, and he's just about to fall asleep when there's a shift and it's gone. He dreams of lakes, dark, and a cast on his arm dragging him down into the deep water.

#wincest #post-playthings #i just wanted to write something tonight #so here's something #my writing

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