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xxmyhomexx · 10 months

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SONG OF THE CRIMSON NILE: Stop Home

Another Amen one because I am in an unhealthy CHOKEHOLD for this man. That is all. This is a modern AU and has no connection to the game! IT IS ALSO NSFW, intended for older readers.

~~~

Amen runs his own company, and Eva works under him as his PA. He is quite intimidating, and everyone who works under him respects him. Eva gets along well with all the employees, and Amen finds himself drawn to her.

One night, the business throws Agnia a birthday party there. There is music, dancing, and plenty of food. Eva, Isman, Ramesses, and Dia are invited, and they have a great time. Amen stays, but after an hour or so, he retreats home. Eva looks around for him, noticing he has disappeared. Agnia stops next to her, lightly elbowing her.

"Looking for the boss?" She smiles.

Eva's face crimsons. "No! I was, uh...j-just..."

"He doesn't like being around a lot of people after awhile. He likes his peace and quiet."

Those words pull at her heartstrings. He may be scary and a perfectionist, but she hoped he was all right. She looked down at the birthday cake she made personally for Agnia: marble, a perfect blend of vanilla and chocolate. She plucked a slice out, gathered a small box and plate, and tucked it in her hands. If Amen was hungry, she couldn't let him starve.

"Excuse me, I'm going to call it a night myself. I'm quite tired."

Agnia knows it isn't true. "Planning on taking him a slice of cake?"

Eva glared at her, but her face crimsoned and she smirked. Agnia laughs and tells her the shortest way to his house, even though Eva already knew a way.

During the drive, she came upon the prairie house. It was big, too big for just one person, but her co-workers always mentioned he liked a lot of space for himself. She saw his Mercedes outside the three-car garage, pulling her Beetle next to it. She gathered the box in her hands, and took the three steps up to the big, black door, ringing the bell.

She stood there patiently, her blue dress flowing in the breeze. Her dark curls fanned her face, causing her to run one hand through her hair. She was nervous, and her heart sank into her stomach.

"What am I doing?" She thought. "You can do this. Just give him the cake, and be on your way."

More waiting caused her fear to heighten. "Yeah, fuck this, I'm out."

She turned on her heels and headed back to her car, when the porchlights blinded her vision and the front door opened. Her heartrate skyrocketed, and she turned around to see the man before her, and instead of fear, another kind of heat burned in her lower core.

Amen was almost taller than the door, staring back at Eva wearing the same fitted shirts he always wore to work: hugging his muscles so that she could see the outline of EVERYTHING that was beautiful. He quirked a brow.

"Evthys?" His deep voice rumbled in her ears. "What are you doing here?"

Eva tugged the collar of her dress. "Uh...I was just on my way home, and I wanted to stop by and see if you...wanted some cake."

She walked back up the steps and handed him the box. She gulped, hoping that he wouldn't notice how red her face was. He looked down at the box in amusement, and accepted it. He opened it and noticed a pink and white coated cake slice. He scoffed and closed the box.

"For me? You shouldn't have," he smirked.

"It's no big deal," Eva sucked in a breath. "Well, if that's all, I'll say goodnight."

She turned on her feet and was about to hightail it on home until Amen cleared his throat.

"Why so soon?" He leaned against the doorframe. "It's still early tonight."

Eva turned around to face him once more. She saw his firm expression, waiting patiently for her answer. Wordlessly she nodded and entered the house.

~~~

In the living room, Amen swirled a piece of cake on a fork and plopped it in his mouth. The vanilla and chocolate mixed well together, melting on his tongue. It was pleasant, his brows pulling together in that pointed stare that made her blush.

"Hard to believe you made this yourself," he plucked another piece on his fork. "It's suprising."

"I love baking sweets," Eva grins proudly. "Isman and I always used his mom's kitchen."

"You must've knocked out her tastebuds," Amen noted.

"Well, according to my friends, I can knock out anyone's tastebuds," she giggled.

"Really?" Amen pointed the fork at her. "Try it yourself."

Eva tried to take it from his hand, but he started to draw it back toward him. She tried again, but he did the same move, smirking.

At first she didn't understand, until she did and her cheeks flames ten times their color. When Amen saw she caught on, he offered her the fork again.

She hissed in a breath and inched closer, slowly but surely getting almost into forbidden territory. Was it forbidden, though? Amen held it out in front of him, Eva rising to his level stretching her neck. Their faces were mere inches apart, separated by a piece of marbled cake. He twirled it in his fingers, enticing her to take a bite.

Eva parted her lips, and Amen dipped it in her mouth. The chocolate and vanilla melted together like butter, sliding down her throat. He plucked another piece off, fed it to her, and she chewed slowly. Indeed, her own baking surprised her, sweet and lush frosting mixed with cake.

Her breath hitched in her throat. She locked her knees together, her eyes half-lidded as she sat there silent. Amen lowered the fork and brushed a strand of hair away.

"Delicious?"

"Yes." Eva whispered.

"Good."

He observed her fully. She had pretty lips, full ready to be kissed and bitten. Her eyes were expressive, her chest heaving and her hair fanning in waves. She had no makeup on, not that she needed it anyway because she was a stunning, natural beauty, a woman Amen preferred to those with obvious plastic surgery.

"I'm..." Eva snapped back to reality, backing away a bit. "I'm sorry, I...I was unprofessional."

"Why?" Amen tilted his head.

"I'm your PA," her gaze turned to the fireplace.

"Sweetheart," Amen shook his head. "You could never do wrong."

Eva stayed silent as he leaned in closer to her, causing her to lean back on the couch. She watched again at a loss for words.

"If you were unprofessional," Amen twirled a lock of hair around his fingers. "I would've fired you on the spot. But you...you're different."

He inhaled her scent. Pomegranate, his favorite fruit, the sweet scent of her shampoo. He turned back to the table, picked up the fork with the last remaining slice of cake, and slid it in his mouth. Eva watched in awe at the flexing of his jaw when he chewed, and the way he swallowed.

He sat back down, pulling her on top of him. She was like jelly, kicking off her clogs to steady herself. He was hard in muscle and height than her, but on his lap, they met at eye level. She was a snug fit, like two puzzle pieces that were an unexpected match. Her hands rested on his biceps.

Amen needed her, he wanted to touch her. He took his chance, he couldn't get enough of her, and by having this woman he yearned for on his lap, she was his. She didn't protest, he saw it in her eyes. She wanted him just as he did her, and he wasn't going to waste time anymore.

He brought her head down closer, his breath hot on her mouth. Eva shook as she gripped his sleeves tighter. No one had ever turned her on this bad, especially her own boss. Lines were blurred, remembering his company didn't forbid employees from romantic relationships.

Amen tipped her chin down, running his thumb across her parted lips.

"Oh..." she whimpered.

"You're so gorgeous," he whispered. He inhaled her scent once more, exhaling in a long sigh. Their noses touched, Amen brushing his cheek against hers. Her face burned in color, and she moved her hands from his arms to his shoulders.

"Evthys," Amen cupped her head with one hand on the back. "Kiss me."

And she did, pressing her lips against his softly. He threaded his fingers through her hair, deepening the kiss. His tongue slipped in her mouth, exploring timelessly. He tasted her, every inch of her palette and tongue dancing against his. When they broke apart, his lips found the sensitive skin of her neck.

"Oh, God..." she moaned.

His lips continued, across her bare chest and collarblades. His touch was feathery, hitting all the right places. She leaned back to gift him with further access, clutching his knees for support.

"Do you like this, sweetheart?" Amen asked.

"Yes," Eva gasped.

"Tell me..." Amen continued his torture, pecking at her most sensitive places. "If you want this."

"More than anything."

He stopped and looked at her.

"Then allow me."

He lifted her off the floor, standing behind her, still kissing the crook of her neck.

"Your room. Take me...please," Eva begged.

He lead her across the hall, upstairs to his master bedroom. When he slammed the door, he pinned her to the wall. Eva fumbled with the buttons on his shirt, undoing each one. He never stopped kissing her as he threw it to the floor, breaking away and shoving her around. Her stomach hit the marble wall as he unzipped her dress, pulling it down over her until she kicked it aside. He kissed a trail up her back, unclasping her bralette and sliding the rest of her garments to the floor. She moaned at the way his hands worked their magic, and the hot feeling of his lips, tongue and teeth nipping and sucking.

"Agh!" she gasped. She heard the sound of his pants hitting the floor before one meaty palm gripped her left breast, kneading while the other slipped between her legs, his fingers working wonders, diving into endless fantasies.

"Your body is devine," Amen praised her. "My beautiful, beautiful neferut."

"Keep going," Eva pleaded. "Yes, like that. Oh, Amen!"

"Those moans," he gently bit down on her earlobe. "Good girl."

She turned around and slipped her tongue between his teeth, trying to dominate his mouth. He tasted wonderful as he bit and sucked on her lips, leaving them swollen and tingling. He licked his lips, smirking as she whimpered and groaned. He dragged her from the wall toward his bed, earning him a yelp when her back hit the mattress. It creaked under the weight when he climbed on top of her, burying his face inside her.

"Mmmm..." Eva moaned. He leaned in toward her, kissing his way up her navel. His tongue snaked over every inch, across her ribs and the sensitive area of her ridgeline. She arched her back as his lips and teeth stopped at the base of her throat.

"Please," she begged. "I want you, Amen."

"Tell me..." he spoke between kisses. "Tell me how much."

"I need you."

At those words, he pinned her wrists above her head and lined himself up. When she nodded, he kissed her and slipped between her walls. Eva yelped, burying her head in his shoulder. He was big, but not too huge. His muscles were hard against her, and she used this moment to slide her arms around his back. The grooves and muscles, he was built like a bodybuilder, or a military tank. They moved from his back to his front, across his abs, pectorals, before wrapping around his neck.

"Ugnh!" She winced, clutching the pillows as they moved in unison. "So fast..."

"Fast?" Amen quirked a brow. When he slowed down, Eva flipped herself on her stomach, arching her back for more of him. She wanted it to last as long as it could, flinging herself up.

Amen wrapped one arm around her breasts, the other down her stomach. His thrusts were deep, to the point where she could feel him all the way. Her back against his stomach, she moaned with each slick of pleasure in her core.

"Oh, God!" She groaned. "I'm..."

"Me, too. Don't hold back, sweet girl," he commanded. With that final jerk, Eva cried out, collapsing in a pillow. Amen hissed as he finished, balancing himself so he didn't crush her.

Eva's body rippled with pleasant shivers. Amen gathered her in his arms and pulled her close. "You ok?"

"Yes," Eva sighed. "Better than ok."

Smiling, he watched as she lay her head on his chest. She trailed her nails across it, watching in awe as it heaved up and down.

"Are you sore?"

She shook her head. "No, just shaky."

Amen chuckled. "Couldn't handle my thanks for the cake?"

Eva eyerolled. "I could! But you could've just told me instead."

Amen just smiled and pressed his lips against hers, both drifting into a sleep that took them deep into the night.

#romance club #rc evthys #rc amen #song of the crimson nile

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tansypaws · 1 year

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hi wren, first i’d like to say i adore your srt style! second, do you usually use references when you draw? and second, what is your thought process when it comes to designing your characters?

thank you!

references v important, and i can def tell the difference in my art and anatomy from when i do vs don't use them 😬

in terms of design process, i am very much a put pen to paper and go from there type. esp when drawing canon cats, i usually have a lot of different design drafts that don't make the cut in full, but often impact my final design, whether through the palette or the markings or something that i think of while working on whatever design aspect.

for the fallen leaves design, i originally had him as a like very generic red tabby w/ symmetrical white markings, and then i was like oooh give the lad some leafy speckles, and then i was like ooooh x2 what if he was a calico and had some black in there to make the orange really stand out.

im mostly caught up on the books, so i do also try to bring certain traits/experiences/etc into my designs when i can, like shadowsight having eye-like tabby stripes or the blue in fallen leaves eyes or the like "dripping" black from his mouth/nose to symbolize what happened to him

in terms of my own characters (which i realize now is what u asked LMAOO), i am even more loosey goosey. a lot of the times i try to go in with some aspect of a design or design inspo in mind, whether that be a name (ex. my oc beetlenose having a black nose bridge that kind looks like a beetle if u squint at it) or some memory of an irl cat i saw that i thought would look cool. like w/ designing canon characters, i also tend to go through a lot of drafts unless i have something super clear in mind going into things, which is admittedly kinda rare for me. i tend to just not be able to produce things if i get too stuck in my head, so i try and fuck around with stuff until i get something i like. sometimes i get really far into a design and realize i don't like it or i don't feel like it fits or that the color scheme is really not cohesive, and i switch back to an earlier version.

overall its just a lot of experimenting around and making diff versions until something fits, and i can build a design around it. also w/ fallen leaves, i knew i wanted some sort of leaf motif (lol, rhymes) and started off making the white on his face shaped like a maple leaf, but then realized i did not like how that looked so i changed the design to be more reminiscent (i hope?) of....fallen leaves. i'm very all over the place, tbh.

#wren speaks #apparently also all over the place w/ my writing LOL #i swear i can be coherent #someone vouch for me sob sob etc #youve got mail #ty for the question!

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gayyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy · 2 years

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- Boggert-

TW: ( fake ) Corpse, ( Fake) Death, Panic Attacks

Yann thought it was a great idea to prank Malfoy by hiding a Boggert In a closet and have some if his casemates watch to see what Scorpius's boggert was. It was no doubt it was something stupid like running out of sweets. That nerd always seemed to be eating sweets." Hey Malfoy the potions master needs some crushed beetles from the red cabinet in the storage room can you go get them for me?" Yann said to Scorpius. Scorpius nodded he, liked to be helpful especially since he wanted to get on the teachers good side after him and Albus's exploding cauldron fiasco. He walked into the storage room and heard giggling - he knew that some of the upper class men came in here to snog so he ignored it. He opened the closet and saw a black mist then jumped back when Albus's dead body fell out of the closet. He let out a terrifying scream. " ALBUS'?!" He said kneeling down and shaking the boys shoulder. " come on Albus this prank isn't funny! Wake up Albus -" Scropius kept shaking Albus and when he didn't move Scropius began sobbing. Sure Yann had seen Scorpius cry before but never like this. " Okay this isn't funny anymore" Polly said standing up. At this point Scorpius was clinging to his friends dead body. Polly pointed her wand at the Boggert and yelled " RIDICULOUS". And the boy in Scorpius's arms was suddenly dressed in Muggle Zombie makeup. Scorpius looked up in confusion as the Boggert shrunk back into the wardrobe. " Malfoy-I'm so so- sorry we didn't know your Boggert whould be this... Dark - we'd thought it be funny!" But Scorpius didn't respond. He just wrapped his arms around himself and rocked slowly back and forth. She turned to her classmates " One of you Go get Albus- Now!" A student got up and ran out to go find Albus and returned shortly with a very pissed Albus Potter. He ran over to Scorpius and sat next to him. " Scorp? Can you hear me? It's me Albus - I'm alright it was just a Boggert -" Scropius took a shakey breath" A-Albus?- it- it looked so real and I thought - you were.. I thought -" Albus pulled Scropius into a hug " I know they look real. It's okay Shhh I'm okay" Scorpius wrapped his arms around Albus and clung onto him like his life depended on it as Albus rubbed circles in his back. " it's alright - I'm fine" They stayed like that for a while until Scorpius finally let go. Albus helped him off the floor then turned angrily to the students. " what the actual FUCK is WRONG with you?? Did you think this was funny? You do realize Boggert's take the form of ones worst fear- and to think you thought that it would be a funny PRANK- your lucky I needed to calm him down or you'd all be DEAD by now-" He turned back to Scorpius " Let's go clearly where In a room full of idiots and your too smart for that." Albus then dragged Scorpius out of the room.

Over the next week or so everyone who was involved in the Boggert prank apologized to Scorpius. He forgave them ( Much to Albus's displeasure). Well except for Yann he hadn't apologized yet. Until one day Scorpius was alone in the library and Yann took a seat next to him " Hey um- that prank was fucked up. And I'm sorry" Scorpius looked up at him " I don't forgive you" Yann looked stunned " You don't deserve it ever since I've gotten here you've made my life hell. All because I'm a Malfoy. I have been nothing but kind to you and I don't deserve that. So no I won't forgive you." He slammed the book he was reading and walked out of the library.

Yann left him alone from then on.

#harry potter #harry potter next generation #scorpius malfoy #albus severus potter #cursed child #scorbus #draco malfoy #james potter #lily luna potter #rose weasley

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pan-fried-autism · 2 years

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The North Experiment

I wrote a short story again!

Characters: Swap!Grementine Mewton, Swap!M0u5e, mentions of Swap!Nikolai (@bowlerhatwearer)

Summary: A certain grumpy scientist is heading over to the northern regions for a weekend, excited to have an extended visit with her friend. Of course, one must record their experiments.

vvrrrrmmmm..

A grey VW Beetle pulled off to a small gravel lot on the side of a road. The car slowed and stopped, before being parked, leaving two rectangular trails in the light snow covering the lot.

A small trail was supposedly by said lot, but the amount of snow, small as it was, made it hard to see. Luckily for any unfortunates trying to find it, it was marked somewhat clearly by a sign pointing off, saying “Cabins ->”.

Nowadays, hardly anyone ever stayed in the cabins anymore. Anyone with common sense, that is.

In the Beetle sat two occupants.

The driver was a short brown cat with pink splotches. She wore a pair of goggles almost masking her eyes, a black t-shirt with a red broken heart, thick blue pants, and hot pink winter boots with white hearts on the toes. Over that, she wore a lavender winter jacket with fur on the hood, along with a pair of knit mittens. Given the coldness of the area, most would dress a little more warmly, but it wasn’t necessary for her. The fluffiness of her fur helped some.

In the passenger seat was a mouselike robot, with permanently wide Jade green eyes, and a large speaker where a mouth would be. He was bundled up tightly in a puffy dark purple, orange snow pants, little red boots, yellow kittens, and mint green hat with a puffball on it. On the floor of her seat was a scarf.

The cat looked out the window, narrowing her eyes at the sign.

Hmm. Well, at least I kind of have an idea of the whereabouts of this place, she thought to herself.

She took off one of her mittens, and reached for the little cup holder between the front seats, where a tape recorder was. She brought it up to her mouth, and hit the record button, finally speaking—

“The North Experiment, Day 228, entry 1.

“Dr. Grementine Mewton, speaking again. I have known Mr. Akdow for 228 days now. So far, communication and data collection has proven to be a slight challenge, given that I’ve only been able to travel at least once a week or so to speak with him. This, however, will change a little today! I’ve rented a cabin for me and my assistant, M0u5e, for the weekend. I’m not sure why or how these cabins have stayed open, but it’s good enough for me.”

It was not a very fancy cabin— one bedroom, one bathroom, connected kitchen and living room, no WiFi access, a small fireplace, and a TV with a VHS player but no cable. This was alright with Grem, though. She brought some VHS tapes anyway, and it was almost guaranteed that there was an outlet for M0u5e to charge at night.

“Anyway, this weekend, I hope to collect more data than ever before from Mr. Akdow. He’s already taught me so much about his world, and I WANT— no, NEED to know more about him!… and his world too. Going into the northern areas to find him was a great idea, honestly. Even if I hadn’t been collecting data, he’s proven to be… well, a very good friend to me. And I hope to spend a bit more time with him.

“Hell, maybe I’ll even introduce him to M0u5e here!”

Saying this, she put the recorder to the robots face. “Say hi, Mousey!”

“Hello, I am M0u5e.” The robot replied, with a voice sounding more like a recording than someone talking.

Grem brought the recorder back to herself. “I’m worried about how the coldness of the cave will effect it, though, even with its added layers. In fact, the heats been off the whole car ride because I don’t want it to overheat, either. I debated bringing him here in the first place, but there wasn’t anybody I knew or trusted well enough to watch over him for the weekend. LORD knows how they could fuck her up!

“… it’s good to get out of the house for a while, though. Everything’s been kinda hard, with the Wrath, and my job, and Dickhead McNiceguy trying to win me back, or whatever he calls stalking. And it’s like… I want to get to know my coworkers a bit better. I don’t know why it’s so… difficult, to just talk to people sometimes.

“… that’s besides the point. I’m gonna head up to the cabin now. Grementine Mewton, out.”

With that, she released the button, and put the device in her jacket pocket.

She unbuckled her seatbelt and got out of the car, taking the keys with her as well. She walked over to the other side of the car and opened the passenger door, where M0u5e was unbuckled and ready to go, scarf in hand.

The two went to the trunk, and Grem opened it, revealing the four suitcases— one contained Grems clothes and tail prosthetic (she didn’t need it that much in the cabin, but she didn’t want it stolen either), another contained some research related items, such as a notepad and pencil, yet another contained a change of clothes for M0u5e and some essentials, and the last one had some non-perishable food items, along with some water bottles.

Taking her clothes and equipment, Grem waited for M0u5e to get the other cases before closing and locking the trunk. She started walking up to the trail, M0u5e following closely behind.

Just as they were about to step foot on the trail, M0u5e suddenly spoke up. “Dr. Mewton?”

The cats head whipped around towards him.

“Will it be safe in this area?”

She shrugged a bit. “Eh, probably. The only other person here is Nikolai, and he’s cool with me, hehe, so we’re in good hands.”

M0u5e said nothing, ears bobbing up and down slightly.

The two continued on the trail, eventually dissapearing in the mix of snow and trees.

……………………………..

5 minutes pass.

Another car has pulled up into the lot. A rapid blue Chevy Camaro. It parks next to the Beetle. The driver door opens, and out steps a tall, lanky brown hare.

His nose and ears twitched in the cold.

He casually walked around his own car, examining the other car and taking mental notes.

Silvery grey. Dent by the front bumper. Small crack on the left rear view window. Row of claws marks on the hood.

He was right. She was here.

He couldn’t help but smirk to himself.

Claire-bear. He thought. I thought you were a smart kitty.

You KNOW you’re not supposed to corner yourself in a game of tag, right?

#short story #evil roadkillerz au #swap AU #grem #dr grementine mewton #swap!grem #m0u5e mewton #swap!m0u5e #swap!jack #TW stalking #swap!nikolai #the north experiment

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buildugsroamin · 2 years

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Last Redoubt, pt. 2

Vera was having the time of their life. At first, they’d been nervous about going to Batavia: their Dad had always made it seem like everyone on the island was a fun hating stick in the mud caught up in the old ways, but now that they were there…

It all started when their dad had started making googly eyes at the smelly lady in robes. They wanted to explore the garden on the komodo’s back, but they knew he would have a hissy fit if they tried. So seeing him distracted, they tried to sneak off, only to catch a glance from robe lady! But not only did she not say anything, she also gave them a very brief thumbs up!

Maybe these Batavians weren’t so bad after all!

Especially not if they made gardens pretty as this one. Vera found themself awash in a forest of violets, reds, and blacks glowing softly in the dark. The screeching of bats mingled with the chittering and buzzing of insects in the night air, which was so thick they could practically feel themselves wading through it. At their feet, rotund, flightless flies the size of small rodents scurried about, while above, only the faintest breaks in the canopy exposed the starry night sky. Of course, no garden would be complete without flowers, and what the ones in this garden lacked in aesthetic beauty, they more than made up for in size and smell. Several orchids sprouted at the foot of trees, their centers resembling queer, colorful beetles and bees so closely Vera was sure they would fly away if they stepped too close. In the canopy, pitcher plants hung low on branches, swaying in the nighttime breeze. A curious bat approached one, only to think better of it, and flew away. The plant, growing impatient, took a more proactive approach and began pursuing their quarry across the branches! Branches occupied by round, pale flowers Vera was sure they could fit their whole arm into, a parade of full moons glowing in the darkness.

And everywhere, there was rotting meat. Cadavers great and small lay strewn about the forest floor, as though some terrible monster had just rampaged through. Something Vera thought entirely possible, given the creatures they and their Father had encountered in the forests near Batavia’s shores. Not that they were afraid of course! From their knapsack they pulled out a pair of particularly large whelk shells, which they slipped their hands into the way a boxer might slip on gloves. If any monster wanted a bite, they’d have to taste their own blood first!

On closer inspection, though, something was off. Although the body resembled flesh, although it gave off warmth and stank horribly as sun-baked meat should, the general shape was loose; blobbish. Like clay roughly shaped into the form of a body. Furthermore, the corpse, though mammalian in form, lacked bones of any kind, instead having several small white spots strewn about the flesh. But most dam*ing of all was the great hole in the beasts middle, to which flies flitted in and out, disappointed by the lack of actual flesh in which to lay their eggs but leaveing coated in crimson pollen.

It was no corpse- but a flower! The largest, stinkiest flower Vera had ever seen! But despite this, they could not make heads or tails of any leaves or roots. Where they invisible at certain times of day, like the parallel plants of Lemuria? They would have to find out later.

For now, they’d follow the stench deeper into the enchanted grove, soaking up as many sights (and smells) as they could before their father inevitably dragged them back for the scolding. After pulling their dress collar up over her nose, of course. They were starting to understand the yellow-eyed lady’s use of a face mask.

. . .

Elsewhere, a pair of adults took advantage of the footholds molded into the sides of the monastery to climb onto the rooftop (or would the better term be dragonback?) garden.

“I can’t believe you.” Whispered Malagasy. Even with all the chittering and squeaking, it was best not to take any chances lest a stray nun catch them in the wrong place. “Letting a kid wander about THIS place! At night! Unattended!” He gestured to the centipede crawling across his foot for emphasis.

“Perhaps you might find me imprudent for this, but speaking as someone who has dwelt in the garden of Earthly Delight for years now, and has tended it specifically with the purpose of keeping devoid of especially hostile fauna, I assure you the worst Vera might encounter is the occasional mosquito.”

It took all of Malagasy’s willpower not to scream. “Oh yes, the mosquitos with lances the LENGTH OF YOUR ARM!”

“Culex pipetta only makes attempts on large prey when no other option is available.”

“YOU. ARE. NOT. HELPING!” Malagasy hissed.

. . .

For the sixteenth time in under ten minutes, Vera was transfixed by a plant unlike any they had ever seen. A grove of them, in fact, which in their rare moments of mental clarity thought would best be observed from behind a tree, where the plants couldn’t see them. If they had eyes. Hypothetically.

Like the fantastic corpse flowers, these plants were wholly lacking in green foliage. Instead, they consisted of a bulbous, burred pistil surrounded by gossamer petals followed by long, thin, barbed leaves. Narrow stalks planted them in the ground, uncannily straight in a way that made the odd flowers appear artificial. But what stood out to Vera most, though, was their scent. In a garden that reeked of decay and death, these flower had the relaxing smell of sea foam, with faint hints of cinnamon, alluring in a way the corpse flowers were not. And it seemed a small moth, no bigger than Vera’s hand, agreed with them. It landed on the burry pistil, probing with its’ proboscis the way an elderly person might use a cane, then finding no nectar, it flew off-

Only for the petals to snap up, trapping it!

. . .

“I find it curious, though.” Whispered Creosote, swatting away a cloud of hummingbirds, “You’ve criticized the Monastery for its’ rigid, controlling, and I daresay, oppressive atmosphere in times past. As reasonable an argument as any. Yet the moment I grant Vera a modicum of liberty, you object harshly.”

Malagasy sighed. “Vera’s different. They’re freewheeling. Careless. And don’t have the sense to leave danger well enough alone.”

Then, thinking about what he said, added. “Got a good heart and a curious mind, though. Love them to death. Its’ just… they can be a bit hard to handle sometimes. Definitely their Mother’s child!”

For once, Creosote was silent. A loathsome melancholy shivered through her as she stared at tall, noble Malagasy, seeing in his crimson eyes and deep laugh traces of the woman she once loved. Traces that grew fainter with each returning visit, replaced by this person who was at once her lover yet someone wholly different. But Malagasy had made her (his!, Creosote reminded herself) decisions and she had made hers. The flame had gone out long ago. Nothing to do but move forward.

. . .

The next few moments were a blur.

Barbed, black leaves snapped around the moth, binding tighter and together until the poor insect was little more than pulp. The black leaves then swiveled groundward, pushing against the muddy earth until the stem popped free. The flower used these same leaves to scrape the moth carcass from its’ pistil, and turning around, jabbed its’ stem into the gelatinous mess and slurped the whole thing up!

It wasn’t a flower at all, Vera realized, but a mosquito! What they’d thought was a pistil was really the abdomen, the petals were wings, the barbed leaves legs, and the long thin stem was the lance!

They gazed, mouth agape. What an island Batavia was, where the plants acted like animals and the animals like plants! Sure, other islands had things like that too, but plant-animals and animal-plants were different island to island and these were still pretty neat, as far as Vera was concerned. Of course, they paled next to-!

A sharp itch at the back of their neck bought them out of their thoughts.

. . .

It was awhile before Malagasy spoke again. Or maybe only a few moments. Bugged though he was, it had been a long time since he was accompanied by someone who wasn’t filling the air with conversation, and the awkward silence (on their end, at least- the garden was lively as ever.) was eating at his nerves like acid. Somebody had to say something. Anything. Might as well be him.

“So… are you gonna get in trouble for this?” He instigated, brushing aside hopefully non-carnivorous foliage.

Creosote kept ahead, saying nothing.

“I said, are you gonna get in trouble for this?”

The yellow-eyed goddess-on-earth shrugged. “Vera is a child of Kib, and it is natural a one so young would want to explore. And I, a frail, aged woman, can only do so much to keep pace. So long as she is unharmed, no grievous injury will come to me. “

“And what do you mean by grievous injury?”

“It is nothing I cannot recover from.”

Malagasy stared daggers at her.

“…In the worst case scenario, they’ll lop off my hand.”

“Creo! That’s a big stinking-!”

“It’ll grow back! Do you not recall when I lost my whole arm at that tidepool in-?”

“Yes I do!” Malagasy hissed through gritted teeth “But that doesn’t change the fact they’re disfiguring you to prove a point!”

“Basic discipline, Malagasy. And considering Kib has deemed me worthy of life in spite of my inherited sin…”

Creo’s flimsy justification for the Monastery’s penalties was droned out by the chirping of crickets and shrieking of bats. A blessing, in Malagasy’s eyes. Far better than hearing the same old lecture for the fiftieth time. Sometimes he wondered if it wasn’t even Creo speaking so much as that blasted komodo corpse using her as a vessel to preach inanities.

Creo, for her part, felt steady as the nighttime breeze whistling through the foliage. True, the garden was somewhat hazardous, occupied as it was with carnivorous, motile plants, great bats, and creatures that didn’t quite fit neatly into the taxonomic slots of ‘plant’, ‘animal’ or ‘fungi’, but if Vera was Malagasy’s kid, then it was nothing they couldn’t handle.

“…And if it is any assurance, the garden should be relatively devoid of nuns.” She looked at the moons, or as much moon as could be seen from below the dense canopy. “Those not occupied with the preserving of manuscripts are occupied with processing tequila, and those that would otherwise be up here now have their hands full tending the children.”

“Are you certain?” Worried dripped from Malagasy’s voice, though not necessarily for himself.

“There is but one individual Vera might encounter.” She said, looking skyward.

A person who would be present at the particular time of night she had given Vera permission to leave, in the particular area they would have wandered off to..

Someone who, Creo omitted, she very much wanted Vera to meet.

“The prodigy.”

. . .

Vera took off their shell-gloves and swatted the small of their neck. To their delight, there was a soft crunch, followed by the sensation of something cold and sticky in their hand. Whoever the culprit was, they were crushed like a berry.

And what a culprit it was! Gazing at their hand, Vera saw no insect, as one might expect from this garden, but a bird! A tiny, tiny bird whose gossamer black feathers shone bright under their exposed bloody entrails, and whose head, possessing a lance to rival any mosquito’s, was totally bald!

Unfortunately, they barely had time to appreciate the exquisite beauty of this creature before their ears picked up a rustling in the undergrowth, drawing ever closer to the grove of mosquito flowers.

Vera, not knowing whether this new presence might be friend or foe, wiped the blood-sucking bird off on their dress and scurried up the nearest tree. True, the canopy might hold dangers all its’ own, but experience taught them the more dangerous beasts tended to stay earthbound.

However, what emerged into the grove was no wondrous beast. Well, there were wondrous beasts, several in fact, but among them was a small figure in greying robes. Said figure’s head was hooded; hands gloved. The only thing they exposed to the world were their eyes, which glowed a lonely, soft yellow in the twilight. Under one arm, they carried a wicker basket.

With a hand, the figure shooed away their odd companions, which scampered off into the bush or flew into the trees. Vera let out a gasp. They’d heard legends of girls so in tune with the natural world they could command beasts with a gesture. Though they’d always believed the legends, it never occurred to them it might me here, at this isolated island the world forgot, they would finally meet the enigmatic figure of legend. From their basket the figure drew a notebook and pen. Observing the mosquito flowers, they scribbled something down Vera could not see, then went back to observing before scribbling again. So enraptured the figure was with their task they did not seem to notice the tiny birds that swarmed around them in a dark cloud, hungry lances easily long enough to pierce their robes and into tender flesh

But Vera did. Brushing the back of their neck, they felt the swollen, itchy reminder of their earlier encounter with such birds, and felt no desire to see the beastcaller suffer a similar fate. Revealing themself wasn’t an option: sure, the smelly lady from earlier was nice, but that didn’t guarantee the beastcaller would be. And as their dad so often reminded them, they had a bad habit of getting too close to people. They’d have to be clever. Eyeing some red berries hanging from a nearby branch, Vera snatched them up, snakeing their way along the treetop, trying to find the best vantage point to launch their newly acquired ammunition. Several times their arms and feet came dangerously close to slipping, but at last, they’d angled themselves at the perfect location. A single berry held between their fingers, they focused- steady, steady- then with a great flick launched it directly on target!

Only for the berry to succumb to gravity, missing the mark and instead hitting the beastcaller square in the forehead. Vera’s heart froze as two glowing orbs locked gazes with them. They tried to shimmy down the tree, but in their panic they planted the whole weight of their body on a foothold that was not there, sending them to the forest floor with an undignified thud!

The Beastcaller, thankfully, made no aggressive action, but clutched their belongings close to their chest, not moving a muscle. Small, white spines began sprouting out from beneath their robes.

“Uhhh…hi.” Chuckled Vera, waving. It was as good an introduction as any.

#my writing #Dispatch to Venus #speculative biology #science fiction #bats

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imerdwarf · 3 years

Text

The Thought That Counts

Request from anon: During the civil war, you join team cap and go on the run with them. They stop off at a motel for the night and you’re sharing the room with Bucky who asks if you could brush his hair? 😪

Pairing: Beefy!bucky x reader

Warnings: Just lots of fluff :)

Author’s Notes: I really do appreciate requests, thank you for sending them into me!

Divider was made by me.

The dingy motel room was far from perfect from the yellow stained wallpaper peeling off from the corners of the room, the patterned old and grubby carpet was layered in black dust from years of neglect.

One panel in the window was boarded up, while one curtain hung pathetically off the curtain rings. It wasn’t ideal, it looked like an abandoned motel that was used in movies and tv shows.

Setting your little backpack down on the bed and rubbing your hands together to gather some heat, you were wondering on where you were going to sleep tonight as there seemed to be only one bed which was full of dust and it seemed to be inhabitable. Bucky didn’t seem to share your concerns of the room as much as you did, he was looking forward to his shower and going to sleep.

"Do you want the bathroom?" Bucky asked without looking up from his backpack. There was an unpleasant smell to the room, and it was quite a challenge not to heave with each inhale of breath.

"No, go ahead." You smiled but he still didn't make eye contact with you. Not that you could blame him, the four of you have been on the run for over 2 days, being cramped in the back of the small beetle car next to Bucky and then being forced to pair up to share a room, it seemed he couldn't get rid of you.

You tried not to dwell too much on it, maybe you were just tired and were overthinking everything as usual. You really didn't know him, maybe this was just how he is and he might not be used to having company.

Before you, Steve and Sam found him in Bucharest, Bucky lived in a very small studio apartment with little belongings. He was surrounded by his journals, the windows were covered in newspapers and he didn't have a bed. Just a single mattress on the floor.

Before you could stop them, your eyes were already welling up with tears as your feet stood grounded to the spot. There was nowhere to sit, you were tired, exhausted and you just wanted to go home.

The tears rolled down your cheeks but you quickly wiped them away with your sleeve when the bathroom door opened suddenly. The redness around your eyes didn't go amiss by Bucky, his features softened with concern. He didn't understand why Steve thought it was a good idea to drag you along with this mess.

"Are you okay?" Bucky kept his voice down, unsure of how thin the walls were. His senses picked up sounds from the neighbours upstairs so he knew they were relatively thin.

You nodded your head quickly and smiled, not really wanting him to worry about anything. His road to recovery was already long and broad enough without needing to carry your emotions too.

"Are you sure? I'm not really good with advice but I do have some good ears to listen." This made you chuckle and you reassured you were okay for the second time. He walked past you and squeezed your shoulder before digging through his backpack for a hairbrush. Bucky clicks his tongue and sighs, staring off into the distance.

"What's the matter?" You ask standing next to him. Bucky's hair curtains his face and it takes all of your strength to not reach out and tuck it behind his ear.

"I uh, I don't have a hairbrush." He bites his thumbnail and you chuckle, looking through your own backpack and finding a brush in the last zip up compartment.

"I could- I could brush it for you, if you want?" It's a genuine offer and Bucky seems taken aback by your kindness. It's the first time anyone has ever showed him such compassion. He seems hesitant as you see the cogs turning in his mind, you knew he was wondering if you'd hurt him. "I won't hurt you, I promise." Bucky sighs but nods his head as he kneels on the dirty carpet to reach your height. You stand behind him, combing his hair from his face and gently putting the brush through his shoulder length knotted locks. "If I brush too hard, please tell me." You tell him before keeping up with the gentleness.

It's something he really isn't used to, but something he could most definitely adapt. You brush out his knots before taking the hair tie and putting his damp locks into a bun.

"All done!" You rub your hands together and toss the brush onto your bag before standing in front of him to admire your work. There's just a couple of loose shorter strands that wouldn't quite reach the hair tie, but they didn't seem to bother Bucky in the slightest.

"Thank you." He smiles, his fingers feeling his hair and sighing. Bucky has only spent a few days with you, but he could tell very easily you're going to his favourite person.

"No problem." You smile, reaching your hand out to tuck those strands behind his ear. It gives you the opportunity to marvel at his features, Bucky really was something. Handsome, smart, brave. The stubble he was sporting lined his jawline perfectly and it looked so scratchy that you couldn't resist running your fingers over his cheek. The hairs pricked against the pads of your fingers. Bucky shuddered from your gentle touch.

The daze Bucky had pulled you into was disturbed when there was an abrupt knock on the door. You both took large steps away from each other.

"Sorry." You apologised, what for though, Bucky would never know. Maybe it was the fear of Steve or Sam catching you being too affectionate with him. Whatever thought that had run through your mind at the time, you really had nothing to be sorry for.

The motel door opened and Steve walked in with Sam behind him.

"There's a change of plans. Our location is compromised. We gotta leave now." Steve told you both and all you could do was nod.

You were cramped in the back of the car with Bucky again. Your eyes were really heavy from the lack of sleep you've gotten the last couple of days. Bucky stroked your hand and you looked at him, a goofy grin on his lips. "Lay your head on my chest doll, get some sleep." You nodded tiredly as your face slumped against his chest. The warmth that radiated from him was too inviting. Your arm instantly wrapped around his torso and Bucky rested his cheek on top of your head, making eye contact with Steve in the rear view mirror who gave him a knowing smile.

A knowing smile that there would always be light at the end of the tunnel.

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llamagoddessofficial · 3 years

Note

what was it like the first time Mc met Skull in the portal Au?

Is it story snippet time? I think it’s story snippet time.

The vent cover was loose.

You’d noticed, as soon as you’d rounded the corner. It didn’t matter that the facility was dark, quiet, deep in one of its night cycles... in the faint illumination of the safety screens and directional arrows left on, you picked up the silhouette of the cover. You were so familiar with the area of the lab around the room you slept in that you probably would’ve seen it anyway... but what immediately made all your attention snap to it was the fact that the glint of sleek metal in the darkness was, in fact, misaligned.

... Sans wanted everything neat. Sans wanted everything right. Red liked it that way, too, but Sans seemed to have the final say. And it showed- the entire facility was neat, angled, symmetrical and impossibly clean. It was so regimented and unnatural that you felt like an outlier yourself; a strange, curved, imperfect biological creature in a space that seemed to bleed robotic perfection from every corner.

... So... something about this one plating... this one vent cover, at a bad angle, tilted just against the grain...

... You were hyperfocused.

You moved over to it, bare feet cat-silent on the warm white floor, crouching down. You weren’t supposed to be out of your room at night, Sans didn’t like you wandering around when he was unaware, powered down for system maintenance and repairs... your fingers sealed around the loosened ends of the vent cover, and with the gentlest of tugs the whole thing came off, leaving a gaping hole in the wall large enough for you to crawl into.

...

It was like you had a fog, separating one half of your mind from the other. Every day in this strange lab was confusing- and when you tried to ask yourself normal questions, like “where am I?” or “how did I get here?” or “why do I have no memories before this place?” your brain supplied you with absolutely nothing. And not only that, it couldn’t even supply you with the concern you knew you should be experiencing... the fear, the panic, it wouldn’t come. It was the most paradoxical and horrible sensation... the feeling of knowing something was wrong, of knowing you should be scared, but something in your head just not letting you access it.

... Maybe that was why the sight of the hole in the wall, the gap in the artificially perfect world around you, made your heart skip in excitement instead of fear. Maybe that was why you normally would have stuck to what was safe and not done stupid shit like going into vents...

... But this time, you got on your hands and knees, and crawled right in.

You weren’t crawling for a very long time; after what couldn’t have even been a minute of moving in a straight line through the smooth metallic system, the dark space opened up above you, more than enough for you to stand up to your full height in. Your eyes were wide, childlike in wonder- unlike the rest of the facility, that at least seemed to try and fake an air of safety, this place behind the walls... every surface around you was dirty, stained and rusty, there were tubes and buttons and tangled wires sticking out of the floor and ceiling, the whole place was lit up with an unnerving orange glow that was leaking through slits in the flooring. The air was filled with a nasty tang, metallic and almost blood-like, heavy and claustrophobic...

... It was like you’d crawled into hell. Like you’d gone from the head of the facility to the entrance of the throat. Another world...

...

As your gaze lowered...

... There was something in the room with you.

The hairs on the back of your neck bristled. Near the other end of the room there was a large, metallic box, most likely containing important wiring of some kind. From where you were standing you could judge that it was about your shoulder height... pretty big.

... But it wasn’t the box that had your attention. It was what it was blocking from your view. A perfectly circular crimson light was peeking out from behind that box... a turret eye, bright and awake and alive, cutting through the murky coloured darkness. And the more you stared, the more you could make out, the more you could see the partially obscured hunched figure attached to the eye that was trained directly on you.

...

“H-hello?” You whispered.

...

“sh-ouldn_t.. be.here.”

... The voice was like nothing you’d ever heard. Deep, deathly deep, you could feel it in your chest like standing next to a speaker- vibrating in your stomach, the palms of your hands, even tingling along your scalp. It sounded... automated, jittering and autotuned and with inflections no human would use, but so clearly with thoughts and feelings behind it, the unmissable edge of somebody who’s cautious, afraid... a downright uncanny mix of machine and man.

“... Should you?” Your voice sounded so... weak. So biological. Your heart was pounding.

... The eye noticeably changed; the dot in the centre became a fraction wider. It took an odd shape, too... from your distance it... looked like a heart...?

A soft, low “... no_.”

“... Then that makes two of us. Right?”

...

The owner of the eye stood up.

He stood slowly, too. And as he did, the box he’d been crouched behind just got smaller, and smaller, and smaller... a beast, made of the facility’s leftovers. Large enough to crush you like a beetle. The dim orange light touched his silhouette to reveal thick tubes, misshapen metal plates, wires hanging off him like cut vines... a gaping cavity in his chest where a half-broken plasma motor was faintly humming and glowing. One of his hands looked vaguely humanoid but the other was just a badly affixed pincer claw... the plate on his face had been haphazardly cut away so his one red eye could see, and a skeletal nose shape had been carved into the centre. Everything about him was asymmetric, uneven, mismatched...

You opened your mouth-

[Bleep!]

...

It floated through the room. A light noise, like a phone notification. You took note of the fact that you couldn’t hear it echoing through the rest of the facility... something that was only heard in the backrooms, perhaps? It was a very gentle little sound, nothing more than a light jingle...

... Except he flinched like a gunshot had gone off, eye blinking out entirely. Immediately, he turned around- you let out a little “H-hey, wait!” and raised your arm but it didn’t stop him. In a few giant steps he’d completely disappeared around a corner, clanging sounds moving so much deeper into the metalworks in such a short amount of time that you found yourself immediately disoriented. How... you were just standing there, how did someone that huge and heavy move so fast?

...

You wanted to pursue. You wanted to chase him deep into the bowels of the lab, down where you weren’t ever supposed to go, where no light would reach... you wanted to so badly you’d already moved a few steps without realising.

... But at the same time, you felt like you’d done enough for one day. Your nose stung from the strange smells in the air, your eyes were straining in the orange darkness... you wanted to go to sleep, back to your relaxation chamber, to rest for now and figure out what the hell you’d just seen.

What the hell you’d just spoken to.

... You turned, and clambered back through the vent. It took no time at all to re-emerge back in the regular facility... back to the whiteness, the cleanliness, the perfect and fake.

...

You had no idea why he’d reacted the way he had to that sound. What did it mean? You trailed your hand along the wall as you walked, making your way through the halls back to your chamber, the floor smooth and faultless under your bare soles. Was it... some kind of warning? An alert system? Was he running toward something, or away fr-

“subject.”

- You almost jumped out of your fucking skin.

You were never sure where Sans’ voice was coming from. It always seemed to just spontaneously exist all around you, disembodied and impossible to describe, surrounding you on all sides as if emanating from the air in the building itself. No matter how hard you searched you could never seem to find any speakers on the cold, unfriendly white walls or floor... just further adding to the confusion and dream-like quality of this whole place. You clutched your chest, taking a little breath, trying to disguise the wild flinch that you’d just experienced.

“Y-yeah?” You said, smooth as always, and totally completely not-startled.

Sans always heard you, no matter how quietly you spoke- and judging by passing comments he’d made he always seemed to be able to see you and your expression. God, you hoped he couldn’t read the panic in your face.

“the facility is in night cycle.” Calm, emotionless, slightly autotuned, as per usual... but a little softer than the norm. “why are you out of your relaxation chamber?”

You glanced up at the nearest camera, a small black orb close to the ceiling with a gently blinking blue light.

...

“I-I can’t sleep.” Was all you could think of.

...

“... perhaps it will be easier to sleep... if you are reclined in a position, in which you can actually sleep. you should return to your chamber.”

“... I’m just walking around.” You kept moving, hoping he wouldn’t think about where you’d come from. “I mean... N-not all of us have a ‘go to sleep instantly’ button. I’m clearing my head. I’m fine, I'm on my way back anyway.”

...

“you’re stammering. your heart rate is elevated.”

Shit. Shit. No, it’s-

“... did you experience a nightmare?”

...

“O-oh. Yeah. Uhm...” You rubbed the back of your neck, eyes drifting down to the floor. “You know about those?”

“i have access to the combined entirety of human knowledge. yes, i am aware of nightmares.”

“W-well... yeah. Yes. I... had one. I’m walking it off.”

... A pause, on his part.

...

“... i can turn the lights back on. if... you’d like to walk around.”

“No thank you. It’ll just make me feel more awake.”

“i see. ... well. i need to complete some more system reboots. i will be partially offline again. if... you need me, just call.”

“Okay. Sure. I will.”

#llama writes #portal au #llama gets carried away: the series #its creepy robot time #its a biggun too! hhehe #feels nice to write again

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flowerwrites06 · 3 years

Text

utopic desire I — jjk

Plot: Under an elist system of Vampires, Jungkook is torn between his old values and the lowest ranked Vampire he begins to fall for.

Pairing(s): Vampire!Jungkook x Vampire!OC

Rating: G | PG | M | R 18+

Type: Drabble | Oneshot | Series

Genre: Supernatural/Vampires | Angst/Fluff/Smut

Tags & Warnings: discrimination, explicit smut, angst, coarse language.

Authors Note: this is a repost after my break since I’m not really going to convert this one to original fiction. So enjoy to those who missed it! I’m doing it in parts cause posting big posts on Tumblr sucks.

“Glasses, five o’clock.” Yoongi muttered mostly under his breath but enough for the group to hear before taking a small sip of his reddened whiskey.

Belle felt a light rumble in her belly at his words, turning her head a little to see the male sitting quietly at the bar counter. Blue sweater with some light wash jeans, thin rimmed glasses and slightly long messy locks hovering over his temples. The tiny pout on his bottom lip only added to what an adorable specimen he was. “Jeon?” She smirked.

Yoongi shrugged mimicking the little curl on her lips as his eyes flickered to the side to get another look of him. “Hangs around with the pure bloods a lot. Must be a favourite source.”

Jungkook was the quietest whenever Belle noticed him in the pure blood crowds and with the way he held himself, it didn’t seem like he was much of a power in the group. One of the vampires who she knew was called Vira always clung to him which she could only assume meant he must have been her human.

“Could be fun annoying the shit out of Vira.” Belle mused.

“Or dangerous.” Jimin spoke up, finger tracing the brim of his glass with the drink barely sipped on. “Pure bloods don’t like us meddling.”

“They don’t like it when I meddle.” She corrected.

Pure bloods had no issue with other pure blood vampires. Even Taehyung, they tolerated despite their dated views on humans. With her though, a spawn of an original vampire and a human was downright blasphemy in their eyes. Belle still wondered to this day why Jimin, Yoongi or even Kiku thought about including her into their group, tainting their name in the academy.

Yoongi nudged Jimin’s arm harshly. “For a Park, you’re a real buzzkill, you know that?”

Jimin rolled his eyes in response, raking through his blue hair before murmuring a small apology towards Belle.

“Do we have a deal or not?”

“What’re you willing to give me when I get him?” Belle leaned in, elbows rested on the surface.

A smirk plastered across the man’s lips. “If you get him to sleep with you, I’ll give you my Lamborghini.”

Belle scoffed. “Which one?”

“The Centenario.”

“Nah—I want the Veneno.”

“If you were less hot maybe but everyone wants you so…the Centenario.”

“Oh come on—”

“If it helps I’m pretty sure Yoongi came on one of the Veneno seats one time.” Kiku spoke gesturing a toothpick towards Yoongi who stammered a little.

Belle grimaced lightly. “Fine, the Centenario.”

“That’s only cause someone decided for the first time they weren’t going to swallow.”

“You literally begged me to let you come all over my face.” Kiku parted her lips in slight offense while Yoongi shifted in his seat.

“Okay now I’m really going to go.” Belle chuckled climbing off the stool and fixing her deep red, ruche dress fitted to her curves before walking to the bar counter.

Jungkook still had his eyes fixated on his drink taking one sip almost every hour while he was somehow deep in thought. Though as he noticed a figure walking his way, his head shot meeting two beetle orbs with shining ruby flecks scattered across. It glimmered in the night light resembling a dark faery of some sort though he knew she was no faery.

“Do you always sit around alone in the college bars?” Belle asked sitting down on the stool next to him, ignoring how her dress rode up her thighs when she did.

Gaze flickered down to the heavily exposed skin, body exuding a thick, warm scent flooding his nostrils and filling his lungs. Jungkook felt his head spin from the sweetness but found himself taking more in anyway. “I don’t like a whole lot of company.” He mumbled.

“Do I count as a whole lot of company?”

“Not really.”

Belle smiled, that tiny spark of accomplishment lingering in the pit of her belly but she knew not to get too excited. “I don’t like much company either.”

“You seem to have a few friends.”

“And I love them.” She nodded. “But I also love...more intimate company.”

Jungkook’s lips twitched briefly as he gripped onto the glass a little tightly. He watched her move forward with her arms folded under her chest, making them pop beautifully in the dim lighting. “What kind of intimate company?”

“Just two people. Me and them. Taking a walk, going to eat, having sex…” Belle let a small moment of silence linger between the two people before shrugging. “Intimate moments where it’s only between the two of you.”

Jungkook couldn’t help but feel a little tingle. How it was easy to just fall into her careful words and drown in her whole aura. “Do you get to do it a lot?”

The corner of her lips curled up a little. “I haven’t for a while.”

“That’s not good.” The scent grew thicker around him again and Jungkook sought it as a good sign enough to shift closer. A layer of ice melting between them with a new brewing heat.

She hummed sadly.

“How much did he bet?”

Belle peered up at him curiously, tilting her head. It didn’t really matter whether Jungkook knew it was a bet or not at this point. She already had him close enough. “A Lamborghini Centenario.” She smiled.

Jungkook raised a brow tempted to glance over at her group but he stopped himself. Not that it was too difficult when he started unintentionally counting the little ruby flecks in her eyes. “High price for little old me.” His voice descended into a darker register as he leaned closer, feeling a strange heat radiate from her skin. “You sure you want to take it?”

“Depends…how little are you?” Belle’s eyes flickered down his body momentarily.

He chuckled, licking the inside of his cheek as he glanced down at his drink. Now more than ever in this entire night, Jungkook lost full interest of filling himself up with alcohol that won’t even intoxicate him. He needed something sweeter. “Well I can’t confirm anything to you here.”

Hunger never tugged any stronger than a bad cramp with Belle. She found decent satisfaction in food but it was almost like strong, uncontrollable cravings when her body wanted to feed properly. A type of craving that needed to be satisfied for her own health and wellbeing. While Belle could take it more than any other vampire, refusing to take blood could still kill her just as easily.

Jungkook’s hunger was a basic need. His hunger panged and pulled at his gut, spread exhaustion through his limbs, head spinning uncomfortably. The last time he fed was on one of the history students in his group project. It was consensual but he couldn’t take much before the boy fainted. There was something different pumping through Belle’s veins, radiating with so much warmth and smelling so sweet that he made him a little dizzy.

Public bathrooms were not an ideal place for a feed but the dark purple walls and black marble floors allowed for less traces and easy clean ups. Door clicked as it locked. All Belle did was turn around before her whole body was engulfed with another, lips locked with his as he pinned her against the door. It was icy at first until it started meshing in with her own warmth allowing her to melt into it.

Somewhere deep in the thick lake of his thirst, Jungkook knew he should stop and go back to the bar to prevent any issues. If anyone found out who he was with in the bathroom stalls, they would give him hell beyond belief. But the thought drowned as quickly as he grabbed onto her hips and moved them to the sink counter.

Jungkook whipped her around until she bent over the marble counter a little, a smile curling at her reddening smudged lips. Looking into the mirror Belle admired the way his forehead knitted when she felt her dress push up to her hips. He brushed away her long hair to expose her shoulder and the crook of her neck.

Leaning in, he pressed wet kisses along her shoulder while his hips harboring a mind of its own ground against her plump bottom. His gut gripped at whatever satisfaction he could get from her smell. That thickly sweet smell just calling out to him. How was it possible? She wasn’t supposed to smell this warm. He wasn’t supposed to feel this hungry tasting her skin.

Belle tilted her head to give him more room waiting for him to get as riled up as possible before she took her own feeding. His large palms exploring every inch of her body, reaching up to her breasts and kneading them to light squeeze before trailing down her hips again.

Tongue traced across one particular spot, soft and sensitive. Fingers gripped at the roots of her hair to expose more skin before his fangs bared, white shining in the light before it sunk in. His whole body trembled in glee. The burst of warmth trailing down his throat, tasting so fucking delicious on his tongue that he kept taking in more. Jungkook moaned against her skin, one palm moving between her legs as he rubbed himself on her curve.

Her first instinct was to protest when Belle felt an intrusion on her skin. She held onto the edge of the counter so tightly that one of her nails could have cracked off. Except the words died on her tongue and the only sounds forming out of her were whimpers…pleased whimpers. The warmth that exploded through her was so thrilling, so intoxicating that her knees began to wobble.

Jungkook could feel himself getting full right to the very limit but he still took more. A slight tinge of concern sparked inside him. He was taking too much. Forcefully he pulled away and pressed his tongue against the injury to heal it quickly before taking deep breaths like they had already done the deed. He usually was really good at holding back. What was wrong with him?

“You’re a fucking trickster.” Belle breathed out with a light giggle. She really should be mad but her body felt far too satisfied to be angry. Though she still felt something stiff rubbing against her. With a cheeky smile, she swayed her hips against his causing the vampire to hiss and grab onto her.

“You wanted to do the same to me.” Jungkook spoke in a low growl, his eyes flashing back to his original red except it darkened in seconds with his ever growing lust.

“Except I can’t, can I?” Belle mumbled a little lazily, allowing him to dig his nails as much as he wanted into her skin but she still wasn’t going to stay put.

Jungkook buried his fingers through her hair and gently pulled her back so he pressed right against his torso. “You can’t tell anyone about this…” He whispered in her ear, lips brushing against her soft earlobe. “And you’ll still get your Lamborghini.”

Belle had it coming. The secret promise. Every pure blood or turned vampire asked her the same thing right when their moment of clarity passed through them after a night of heated movements and sinful noises.

‘ Don’t tell anyone I touched you. ’

‘ No one can know we were together. ’

She was never allowed to speak a word but that didn’t mean she couldn’t hear them jabbering how the failed breedling begged for it with their other friends. “I promise.” She muttered like a familiar song.

Jungkook searched her eyes for a moment, the ruby flecks losing their usual twinkle when she spoke those two small words. His expression softened, grip on her hair loosening before moving his hand down to fix her dress gently as if it could somehow cushion on a blow he didn’t know he caused. But it was there. He could feel the way her skin chilled slightly disallowing him to melt into her again.

Before he could truly understand what that feeling was, Belle shifted away from his hold a little, setting up her hair again in the mirror. Not a single confused twitch on her features.

Then why was he confused?

He was the one who asked to keep it a secret so that was it. It would be selfish to expect some kind of argument when there was no way around the matter.

“I’ll have to go first.” Belle broke through the momentary silence. “Yoongi won’t believe something happened if you went out before me.”

“Why not?”

Another grin tugged at her lips even though the flecks were still dull and unexcited. “I usually tire out the ones I’m with. They have to take a break or at least look really out of it afterwards.” Belle walked over to him and patted his cheek.

Jungkook scoffed lightly though a little relieved he caught the tiniest cheeky glint before she walked out of the bathroom.

Two mornings passed and it left the pure blood emptier than he wanted to admit. Jungkook opted to take this particular dawn to cage himself in the gym for a few hours before classes started rolling. It was the best time when the whole building was empty save for the security guards. Eventually when he tired himself out enough not to think about those ruby flecks again and have the smell of sweat instead of that sweet, warm aroma, he started preparing for the library.

Apparently Vira and a couple of others wanted to get some readings done and it was getting too sunny outside for their liking.

The academy library was vast filled with books ancient to modern adorning shelves so much taller than him he could barely see the top. Jungkook had a simple black long sleeves draped on him as he walked over to the corner table and found Vira with an empty seat to her.

Deep red lips curled up into wide grin as she patted the seat and the male didn’t really respond much before doing as she silently asked.

Jungkook never found a whole lot of interest in the conversations his group mumbled towards each other and simply opened his books to skim through readings like he thought they were supposed to do. Though even with their words tuned out a little, his eyes still flickered up to scan the shelves, a few of the tables with quiet students curling on themselves. Except one figure glowed so bright near a few tables forward.

Her hair was not as black as he imagined it was in the bar lighting. It was almost a chocolate brown, a little messy and wavy with a small clip loosely placing back on side of it. Lips in a lighter pink tinge while wearing lilac thin sleeve dress with small peach flowers scattered across from what he could catch. Jungkooks’ lips twitched a little seeing her smile so easily with such a genuine aura when a blond haired girl next to her muttered something between them.

“Kook.”

He felt a harsh nudge on his arm causing him to shake back into reality and look over at Vira again. “What?”

“We saw you sneaking in with a certain someone back at the party.” One of the other pure blood vampires, Hoseok spoke with a wide smirk tugging at his lips. “The failed breedling.”

“I thought we called her a failed experiment.” Vira commented with a ghost of a smile over to Hoseok who chuckled in response. “Some kind of deformed rat in the lab.”

Jungkook curled his fingers against the table trying to kill the words that were desperately attempting to escape through him. “She’s definitely not deformed. I mean…we’ve seen Doyoung’s nose.”

A turned vampire, Doyoung shot a glare at the male while the rest of the group laughed in full agreement though quiet enough not to echo through the room.

Hoseok then turned back to Jungkook with his eyes flashing red. “How non-deformed is she exactly?”

Nails dug deep into his palm until the skin almost ripped. Jungkook was glad he had a good ability to hide his abilities otherwise his eyes would have been permanently red from anger. “She’s…kinda perfect physically. I fed from her.” You fucking dumbass.

“You did?” Vira didn’t care to hide her grimace, hand pressing to her chest. “God, aren’t you sick?”

“It tasted good.”

“Really?” Hoseok’s eyes faded into red for longer than Jungkook was comfortable with. That same faint smirk appearing back on his lips. “How good?”

Jungkook wanted to look back at Belle. As if there was this intense pull at his belly wanting to watch her smile so genuinely again and tune this conversation out again. “Better than a human.”

“Fuck, seriously?” Doyoung’s eyes widened so much his eyes could have popped out if he wasn’t careful.

“Maybe we should tell our original masters to take in more humans to breed.” Hoseok nodded down at his open and ignored book rested there for show.

Jungkook actively ignored the comment and gathered a bit more confidence to look over at Belle’s table again. His stomach jumped to his throat when he noticed those dark orbs meet his own. He held onto it, expression softening to admire how beautifully they sparkled, how her chest rose and fell. The way her lips curled up before she leaned into whisper something in her friend’s ear.

Vira scoffed without any care for volume. “They’d rather feed on animals than do that. One abomination is enough.” Every word was harsh and cut, not a single ounce of regret in what was spewing out of her mouth.

He heard the words but paid no mind to them when Belle stood up from the chair, giving him another smile before walking over to the other end of the library where the last, abandoned aisle was.

“If you ask me then they should’ve killed her along with her dirty parents.” Vira shrugged looking down at her long deep violet nails.

“I need to find a book.” Jungkook got up from his chair and walked through the library on the other side of the shelves away from the tables. He didn’t share a single glance to Vira when she called his name.

It was almost like a pull. Dragging him across the floor like a sorry but happy puppet, running to the one who controlled his strings. She shouldn’t be controlling his strings. But Jungkook still let her.

Finally he reached the last aisle, pausing in his tracks for a moment when he saw Belle leaning back against the wall shelf with her arms crossed over her chest.

“What happened to not telling anyone?” Belle asked with a faint smirk plastered on her lips.

Jungkook walked to stand right in front of the girl, the morning sun brightly shining through the window but thankfully high enough not to beam on the floor. “Who says anyone’s going to know?”

The cute smirk stretched into a mischievous smile. “You owe me a little.”

“How’s that?”

“You fed from me.” Granted, Belle strangely enjoyed the feeling far more than she would like to admit. “Yet I haven’t gotten anything from you.”

“You don’t think it’s a little selfish?”

Without a reply, she hooked her fingers on the frilly hem of her dress, pulling it up enough for him to see those thick thighs again. “Depends on how badly you don’t want to give me anything.” Belle couldn’t help but dive deep into her gaze when looking at the male. Thin black sweater with the sleeves rolled up to show off the veins popping from his arms after his morning workout, long tresses naturally curled and touching his brows. She could just imagine those fingers gripping at her skin.

Gaze darkened as he watched her plump, pink painted lips curl up into a smile while the rubies in her eyes disappeared almost completely turning into a blackened red. “Do you enjoy making a scene?” His voice grumbled, stepping closer until once again he was met with that beautiful heat radiating from her.

“It’s not a scene if no ones’ looking.” Belle murmured, breath hitting his lips almost magnetizing him to dip his head down further. “Besides—I already know your little quiet shy boy is just a façade now. Don’t expect me not to have a little fun with it.”

Hand grabbed onto her hips like his life depended on it, pads of his finger squeezing her until he heard a light gasp. “I’m not like your other sweet humans that you tire out, darling.”

“Well I wouldn’t know much from experience, would I?” Belle tilted her head, her nerves awakening with the way his fingers deliciously dug through her clothes into her skin almost forming permanent dimples.

Jungkook walked forward letting her stumble back so she rested further against the last shelf of books. Her scent filling her nostrils again and he sniffed in letting it flood his lungs and thicken right up to his throat. His hands latched off her hip and trailed down her short dress, rough fingers tracing her soft thigh. Sliding up thin clothing between her legs, his hands paused where he felt heat. Wet heat soaking through a thin soft fabric, almost soggy when he pressed his fingers against it.

Belle let out a shaky breath, gently caressing his rising chest. As the male pressed harder she could feel her erect nub throbbing out for him. The light spark of pleasure caused her to close her eyes. What a mistake that was. Almost instantly the pressure on her panties stopped and another hand grabbed onto her chin.

“Look at me.” Jungkook growled under his breath. Eyes flashed red when their gazes met again causing Belle to smile albeit a little shakily.

A soft hum emitting in her throat, Belle felt his rough fingers sneak into her panties. Rubbing straight against her nub jolting sparks of pleasure through her veins. It was too tempting to close her eyes and fully relish into the sensations but she kept her gaze on him. His eyes faded into an extremely deep crimson.

Fingers caressed circles on her delicate clit before sliding down her dripping slit. Spreading her nether lips, he slowly pushed in his middle digit, curling up deeper as he hungrily watched Belle part her mouth and throw her head back against the shelf. Jungkook dipped in latching his lips onto her jugular to get more of her taste. So warm. So fucking sweet. He tried to muffle out the groan against her skin. Jungkook pulled his finger out and slid back up to her clit, increasing his pace into a mild assault of pleasure.

Belle brushed through his slightly cold hair, giggling lightly as he gently grazed his teeth on the side of her neck before kissing her jawline. She tried soften her moans with her trembling breaths but tiny noises of desperation still escaped. The rush tightened in her lower belly. Warmer. Hotter. Her hips jerked against his movements, almost standing on her tiptoes.

Then her ears pricked for a moment. Footsteps echoing a little closer than normal.

“Someones’ coming.” Belle whispered in a shaky tone, trying to push Jungkooks’ hand out of her panties but he didn’t budge.

“I thought you liked making a scene, baby.” He swirled his finger around her clit in a tantalizing pace again forcing her orgasm to move to a distance again.

“Jungkook—”

As the footsteps grew closer, Jungkook whipped her around so she faced the shelf. The librarian appeared at the aisle giving them a quick glance as Belle pretended to pick up a book.

It only took a few minutes of her gazing around, looking for a book rather than watching them directly but it thickened the frustration between the couple. Belle cupped her core gently trying to gain more friction to keep her pleasure driving closer though it was hard not to move too fast.

Once the librarian disappeared, Jungkook dipped his hand back without a single moment of hesitation, rubbing up and down her slit to spread her arousal before torturing her clit again. Head buried in her shoulder he viciously rubbed her bundle of nerves as she held onto the shelves for dear life while the book she held dropped to the ground.

Belle leaned her forehead against the shelf feeling the tightness in her lower belly. Calling out to her and yearning for more of his touch. Fingers wrapped around his forearm as it moved at a lightning pace. “J-Ju—” Heat surged through her body spreading across her limbs, knees shaking causing to almost stumble onto the floor but Jungkook kept her steady. She let out a clearer whimper as he continued to drawl out her orgasm, rubbing at her sensitive nub at a tantalizing pace.

Jungkook pressed roughly against her clit causing Belle to whine and giggle breathlessly. He couldn’t help but grin at the sweet sound, relishing in the aroma of lust mixing in with her natural scent. He turned her around more gently, taking his fingers into his mouth and suckling off her delicious release. “Is that good enough?” He brushed and fixed the light tresses hovering over the girl’s face.

She grinned brushing down the creases in her dress. “Much better.” Belle reached out and absentmindedly caressed the neckline of his shirt with a softer expression across her features, padding closer until her forehead was almost touching his chin. She had a light hum under her breath as she nudged her nose against his jawline.

“What’re you doing?” Jungkook asked, immediately regretting his words when he felt her comforting touch leave him making him feel empty.

Belle stammered stepping back a little and avoiding his gaze. He won’t care for you. “Nothing.” She mumbled quickly picking up the book from the floor, placing it back on the shelf. This was all you were meant for. “Sorry.” Was the final word uttered before she rushed to disappear out of the aisle.

Jungkook took a deep breath to call her back but the words died on his tongue. He had a feeling why she did it. That needy feeling to just cuddle into a warm body after coming down from a high. The little want to be taken care of. The knowledge of it all only caused a squeeze in his chest. I’m sorry.

NEXT PART >>

#jungkook #bts fanfic #bts smut #jungkook fanfic #jungkook angst #bts angst #jungkook smut #bts fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #smut #angst #vampire au #bts vampire au #jungkook vampire au #tw: smut

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autistartism · 3 years

Text

Tf2 Characters as furries. Designs are pending.

RED Team (left to right):

Pyro: Branichus Bombardier Beetle - bombardier beetles are a species of beetle than can shoot boiling water out of their abdomen. Boiling water, fire, both things that burn.

Engineer: American Beaver - idk about the beaver thing. I chose it because beavers are one of the only animals that make stuff. Some kind of primate would be more fitting but I don't find them as cute since they resemble humans. Input would be appreciated.

Sniper: Australian Hobby - I wanted a bird of prey cuz of the eyesight and aim. I felt hawks felt more Australian than owls, plus owls don't urinate. Hawks don't technically urinate in the same way a human does, but still.

Spy: Red-Bellied Black Snake - I knew from the get-go I wanted him to be a reptile. I did consider a chameleon but I find the fact people thing they change colour to camouflage annoying (lizards are a special interest), and he is sometimes called a snake.

Medic: Mourning Dove - I didn't want a white dove cuz 1. It would just be medimedes. 2. Cuz he would look too much like his pet doves. Plus, 'mourning' felt very fitting giving he appears to have empathy issues and kills people, enjoying it more than his teammates.

Heavy: Grizzly Bear - do I need to explain? Big hairy gay man. Lives in a mountain. Protective. Is compared to a bear in his bio.

Scout: Appalachian Cottontail - rabbits are fast and skittish, pretty weak and low on the food chain, and buck teeth. Ik Spy's his dad, but in terms of cross-species breeding, it seems the offspring often takes after the mother. Maybe he has a few scales or some small fangs.

Soldier: Bald Eagle - AMERICA

Demoman: Highlander Pony - the national animal of Scotland is a unicorn. So horse. Plus there's a lot of country sides and horse riding there, I believe. So I made him a horse, specially a pony breed from Scotland.

BLU Team (left to right):

Pyro: Metrius Bombardier Beetle - a different species of bombardier beetle. These ones are black with round booties.

Engineer: Eurasian Beaver - again, idk about the beaver.

Sniper: Brown Goshawk - another hawk native to Australia.

Spy: Blue-Bellied Black Snake - it's the same thing but blue.

Medic: Diamond Dove - I love these birbs. Plus they kinda bluish.

Heavy: Polar Bear - white fits the blue more.

Scout: Mountain Cottontail - another rabbit.

Soldier: Golden Eagle - I just chose another popular eagle.

Demoman: Shetland Pony - another Scottish horse breed.

#team fortress 2 #furry fandom #birdsona #bug furry #tf2 medic #tf2 pyro #tf2 demoman #tf2 solly #tf2 heavy #tf2 spy #tf2 scout #tf2 sniper #tf2 engineer #art

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nameless-shrimp · 3 years

Text

SILENCE || CHAPTER THREE

Pairing: Gojo Satoru x F!Deaf!Reader

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of sexual content.

Notes: okay, finally. chapter three. sorry for the wait. i love gojo satoru. really much. okay, enjoy.

previous chapter.

He ran into you again.

Satoru was patiently waiting outside the gates of the school, wondering where Geto was so that they could both make their way to meet Yaga for whatever mission that they would be assigned to for the day. He sighed, kicking his feet against small pebbles on the sidewalk. He knew that he couldn’t be late for another meeting with Yaga, though he was very moody for some type of pastry.

Then again, knowing who he was, he wasn’t surprised at his sudden cravings. Not bothering to wait for Geto, he decided to make his way to the bakery that was a few blocks away from the school.

As he walked down the sidewalk, he glanced around his school. It really did look like a religious school, though the average human would think that, and then Satoru continued to whistle his thoughts away (ranging from wondering where Geto could be to figuring out the kind of pastry he was craving—so was it chocolate croissants or maybe, a pecan pie today?) despite the stares he’d get from people that would walk past him.

It didn’t take him long to reach the bakery, where Satoru opened the door to find that the bakery wasn’t as busy, most likely because it wasn’t a rush hour kind-of-time.

Not that he was complaining, though.

Satoru took out his phone, deciding to scroll through his past images of him and Geto grabbing dinner the other night. (Half of them were blurry, most likely because Geto was trying to take his phone away before the brisket was gonna burn on the grill).

“I’m sorry, ma’am, but we don’t have anyone that knows sign language.”

The voice was audible, and it was the usual old lady that ran the bakery that caught his attention. However, he trailed his eyes up, gazing his attention to the lady he recognized before he minded his own business and he opened up some messages from Yaga-sensei, and as per usual, it had to deal with exorcising grade two curses.

Christ, a lot of this was starting to become tiring; at least, it seemed like a lot of people knew that Satoru was the strongest since everyone began to rely on him.

Someone in front of him left their position in line, so Satoru moved up a bit, scrolling through his phone as usual. He bit his bottom lip, wondering if he should’ve brought some lollipops with him so that he could’ve kept his cravings at bay.

“I appreciate you typing out what your order is on the phone.”

He looked up once again after taking a few steps forward, not minding the person in front of him as he was browsing the pastries. It seemed like the croissants were freshly baked a while ago, as expected from this place—it was the best; donuts sounded like a good option as well too. Sprinkles, icing, or maybe some sort of jelly filled treat. It really made him itch for a sweet, and he felt himself wrinkling his nose at the tasty thought.

“Gojo Satoru!” The old lady perked her voice out loud and Satoru shot a grin, waving at the lady who had her usual pink glasses and a bright smile on her face. It seemed like the person next to Satoru shifted a bit as they were fiddling with their wallet, though it wasn’t Satoru’s business.

“Hey Yuki,” Satoru greeted. “I’m not sure what I’m craving for today.”

“Would you like to try a red bean donut?”

“I’d like something sweeter,” he grinned.

The old woman chuckled, her laugh vibrating a large aura of positive energy—something that Satoru had always admired. “It’s no surprise coming from you. I can even make you a crepe if you want, you know? Chocolate and bananas?”

“Ah,” Satoru held up his phone, checking if Geto had texted him of his whereabouts, but it seemed as if Satoru had no update. He tapped his foot, debating if he should stay for some time to eat.

The person next to Satoru had dropped a couple of dollar bills in the tip jar, earning a welcoming source of gratitude from the lady. However, Satoru’s thoughts were interrupted once the sound of plastic bags had fallen to the floor.

Satoru looked down to see the customer that was next to him bend down to pick up the bags of bagels. He bent down to pick up two bags—it seemed like this person liked cinnamon raisin and plain bagels—and handed them off to them. “Here you go,” he sent off a generous smile.

The person in front of him tensed up and looked up at him, their hood had fallen down to their shoulders.

And—his breath hitched.

He didn’t know why, but it did. He wasn’t expecting to see you here out of all places, and it seemed a bit far out from the neighborhood you saw him at. Though, Satoru shouldn’t question it, because he did run into you at the nearby convenience store.

“Oh, hey,” Satoru knocked some of the confidence back in himself.

You glanced up at him and though you couldn’t see the color that was hidden beneath the black shades that were nearly at the tip of his nose, you could tell that he looked a bit surprised as well too. And Satoru knew that he was. Perhaps that he didn’t expect to come in contact with you but it shouldn’t have mattered anyway, you were nothing but a stranger to him that bumped into him late at night or that you were kind enough to offer him chocolate once before. It wasn’t that big of a deal and Satoru knew better than that, or at least, he thought he did.

He cleared his throat, smirk growing as if confidence had punched his gut and he straightened up his posture. “Nice seeing you here,” and his smirk grew into a cheeky grin.

Satoru’s flirty side was already making its way out and you couldn’t help but feel warm to your cheeks. And there it was; the sight that Satoru admired because it always fed deep into his ego enough to make him have that boisterous and barbaric personality, only because he knew that he was gorgeous and beautiful and handsome and outstanding in his own way. Getting these kinds of reactions were lighting the fire to burn inside him more; that arrogance that everyone was annoyed by yet for some reason, it was a part of Gojo Satoru.

“Yuki,” Satoru called out to the baker behind the counter as he watched you place your bought items in the plastic bag quickly—almost like you were nervous. “I will pay for this one’s orders.”

“How kind of you, sweetheart,” the old lady perked up a genuine smile and Satoru winked at you, where you gazed up at him and came to the realization that he was way too damn tall.

After Satoru had ordered some donuts to eat, he decided to ask you to sit next to him near the large window that had a perfect view of the street on the outside. He rested his chin on the palm of his hand, gazing at the owners walking their dogs and the small Beetle vehicle that was parked outside of the bakery.

Every once in a while, Satoru gazed at you, and you’d be lost in your own head as well, staring out at the world that was outside of the window. He wasn’t sure if you were too nervous to speak to him—and he wasn’t sure where this nervousness came from, but he really wasn’t complaining; after all, he had this kind of effect on women, anyway—due to the fiddling of your fingers on your cup of coffee or the times that you bit your bottom lip, looking hesitant to even face him.

But Satoru couldn’t lie to himself. For some reason, he found himself a bit tense.

And it had to be because you never spoke a word to him after your previous encounters together. That had to be it.

Seriously.

“So,” Satoru broke the silence, tilting his head as he bit into the chocolate glazed donut. This caught your attention as you finally forced yourself to make eye contact with him—or really, you were just staring at black sunglasses, but close enough—and he pursed his lips. “You don’t talk much, do you?”

You shook your head.

“I won’t annoy you with questions about it,” Satoru smiled politely at you before chewing the bite from the donut he took. “So,” he spoke with his mouth full for a moment before swallowing and continuing, “is there any way I can get to know you?”

You bit your bottom lip again and then reached for the phone that you had in your hoodie pocket. You began typing on the phone and then held it up for Satoru to see. His eyes adjusted to the bright screen as he read the text.

'My name is L/N Y/N. It’s nice to meet you. :)'

“Likewise,” Satoru responded, placing his donut down on the plate. “Gojo Satoru. We’ve ran into each other a few times before.”

You nodded.

“So you remember?”

You nodded again.

“At least I don’t look crazy, heh,” he chuckled awkwardly, unsure of how to properly have a conversation with someone that was not open to conversation. Satoru wanted to ask because he was used to having women touch his neck and beg for his attention all over, regardless of who it was—and there would be easy-going conversations here and there to break the ice, somehow.

But with you—clearly, you were different. And Satoru didn’t want to sound basic with that thought in his head. But you were—because you weren’t fucking speaking a word to him.

“Do you mind if I refer to your first name?” Satoru questioned, raising his brows. “You’re welcome to do the same to me—if you ever speak a word to me.”

You nodded, smiling a little bit.

Some progress was being made, at least.

“Y/N, I’m sorry if this offends you but—”

Before he could finish his question, you chuckled out loud, nearly spilling your hot coffee on the table and you waved your hand in front of him, trying to signal him to stop. You held up your pointer finger, informing him to hold it for a minute as you typed on your phone with your free hand quickly. Satoru raised a brow at this, but he knew that you were probably already answering his question—and really, he should’ve known you’d get asked this a lot.

You held your phone up to him.

'It doesn’t. Don’t worry. But I am deaf. I can’t hear.'

“Eh?!” Satoru fell back, completely confused by the text. He pointed at you while throwing his free hand in his tousled white hair. “H-Hold on, so how are you able to hear me?”

You fought back another chuckle before you turned to the side, parting your hair behind your ear where the visible sight of the implants in your ear were noticeable.

Satoru felt dumb. Because—duh, no fucking shit. Of course, hearing aids and cochlear implants existed.

“Oh, right,” Satoru pouted, pursing his lips playfully as he eyed the bakery in front of him. Suddenly, the green couches and the faint string lights were more of an interesting sight to admire—when really, he just felt pretty embarrassed. “My bad.”

You simply kept your smile and waved your hand around.

“So, do you not speak then?”

'I do. I just… don’t like the sound of my voice. I was born deaf.'

“I’m sure you sound cute,” Satoru grinned, completely satisfied with his compliment. And of course, you pushed your lips in a thin line and turned away, trying to hide the faint blush that was growing from your neck to your cheeks. The obvious light pink was a delightful sight for him to see; you didn’t realize it but you were definitely feeding his ego up, and Satoru liked it—a lot. “C’mon. You can talk to me, right?”

You bit your lip again and shook your head shyly.

He squinted his eyes a bit as he took note of your behavior. It seemed like you bit your lip a lot whenever you were in situations that made you timid. Satoru found this cute—or really, he wasn’t going to lie to himself, it was kind of hot. But he couldn’t say that kind of stuff to you, especially with how fragile you looked in front of him.

Satoru felt his phone vibrate and he realized that he received a message from Geto. With one glance, he realized that Geto had finally made it to the outside gates of the school.

He pouted. He wasn’t ready to leave you yet, but for some reason, he was interested in you. Satoru thought that you were someone he could play around with for some time—and yeah, maybe that was the move that he would be going for.

“Hey,” Satoru sighed deeply, pretending to act a bit disappointed—or well, he kind of was in reality, but he made it more dramatic than he really needed to. “Sorry Y/N. My best friend’s waiting for me somewhere. Do you think we can talk again?”

You nodded, smiling at him.

That bright smile of yours was contagious because he found himself smiling as well. It felt genuine, right, and he felt comfortable. Though no words ever came out of your mouth, he felt steady—which was good. It was a great start, actually.

“What’s your phone number? We should meet up more often,” Satoru suggested, a cheeky grin stretched out on his lips.

You exchanged numbers with him and he couldn’t lie to himself. He was thrilled—excited almost, and he wasn’t really sure why. Maybe it was because he scored himself another girl that he could possibly fool around with, but this wasn’t a surprise to Gojo Satoru. With that arrogant personality and beaming azure eyes that captivated the soul of others, he knew that he had it in him to get what he wanted.

Needless to say, the scent of freshly baked croissants never left his nose and for some odd reason, the picture of your smile couldn’t escape his head.

Once Satoru left the bakery, he was met with Geto, who was resting his back against the wall and he eyed his friend cautiously before he huffed a breath with a small smile on his lips. Clearly, he knew. “You got another girl’s number, did you?” Geto questioned.

“You got it.” Satoru snapped his fingers as he put his hands in his uniform pockets. “C’mon. You can’t act surprised.”

“Oh,” his closest friend rolled his eyes, dark hair swaying with the wind. “I’m not.”

“Really now?”

“Really.”

The mission was supposed to be quick and easy, at least that’s what Geto was informed about—and Satoru was informed as well. (But it wasn’t like the white-haired flirt even paid any attention to the messages or lectures that Yaga gives, anyway).

Staring up at the tall building in front of him, Satoru took one glance at his phone and scoffed at the messages from the previous girl he slept with, who was consistently texting him to come back to her place. He wasn’t interested anymore, clearly, and he had stated that numerous times.

Times like these were exhausting for him, but it made Satoru feel uneasy with himself, though he refused to admit it to himself no matter how many times he eyed himself at the mirror, admiring his own reflection but hidden beneath was someone that was afraid to open up about how he felt. And he always cared; it wasn’t like he didn’t—because he always did. It showed from his affectionate gestures with the women he slept with and how he’d always listened to them whenever they vented about their bad days before officially getting the chance to sleep with them.

Maybe he really was an asshole, toying around with their feelings. Yet, was he really? Satoru was lost in his thoughts—once again. The damn whirlwind of thoughts that seeped its way into moments when he needed to pay attention to the present the most, like the murmuring inaudible voice of Geto to his ears or feeling the presence of intense cursed energy coming from the building in front of him.

Geto turned to face his closest friend who was tucking his phone deep in his uniform pockets. “Another girl trying to hit you up again?” Geto asked, raising his brows.

Smirking to himself, almost as if he was the most charming prince, Satoru nodded and stretched out his arms. “Yeah, the last girl I fooled around with,” he explained before staring back at the building with the immense cursed energy that was radiating a few feet from the roof. “But it’s fine. I found someone else I can mess around with for the time being.”

Geto decided to take the first few steps to the building as Satoru followed behind. Geto shook his head and smiled to himself, allowing Satoru to furrow his eyebrows. “Can’t help but break more hearts, huh?”

“It's not my fault they fall for me. You know I always tell them I’m not someone that’s the commitment type,” Satoru scoffed. And Geto knew he was telling the truth too. “Hell, even you know that.”

“I know,” Geto responded. “You’re just something else.”

“What do you mean?” Satoru questioned, suddenly feeling a bit defensive.

“You’re a jujutsu sorcerer,” Geto stopped on his trail and then made a swift turn to face his friend with a serious look glued on his face. “You keep messing around with all these women. I know you don’t want a relationship, and you’re just being you but don’t play with me. Do these women even know that you’re a jujutsu sorcerer? Or, at least, you’re capable of the abilities that you have?”

Satoru didn’t say a word and he only looked away. Of course, Geto would question him, but now was not the time for a lecture. He shook his head and refrained from answering his questions, “we need to exorcise this little shit already,” Satoru groaned, walking forward.

“I’m talking to you,” Geto raised his voice.

“You’re not my parent,” Satoru huffed. “No, they don’t know. None of the girls I’ve been with knew about what I had or what I do or anything about me. I was just there to fuck and leave. I don’t even cuddle them or anything; I tell them these things. I always do.”

“It’s not about you telling them what you are and who you are and what you do,” Geto explained, crossing his arms. Seriously, Satoru couldn’t believe that this discussion was going on. He wanted this to wait for another time, but it seemed as if Geto didn’t have the patience—or rather, his mind was eager to know some things right here and there. “I’m curious. What if there is a time that you fall in love?”

Satoru held back a snort. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

“It won’t. I can’t be in a relationship.”

“Why not?”

“Because—” Satoru groaned loudly, where the noise was audible enough to echo in the abandoned hall of the building that they had walked their way into. “Who would want to date a jujutsu sorcerer?”

“Ouch,” Geto chuckled lightly, placing a palm on his heart. “Are you telling me that I can’t get any action then?”

“You know what I mean,” Satoru shook his head before pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. “Unless the girl is a jujutsu sorcerer or can handle her own, then I can’t be in a relationship. Even if she was a sorcerer though, if she can’t be strong, then I don’t want her.”

“There you go, again.”

“What now?”

“Bashing on the weak,” Geto sighed, closing his eyes. “You understand that jujutsu sorcerers are here to help protect those that can’t see the curses or are too weak to exorcise them. But it doesn’t mean that there’s anything wrong with it, man.”

“Look,” Satoru snapped, letting his frustration show in the tone of his attitude. “I don’t have time to protect and babysit my girlfriend—if I ever have one, okay? I’m sorry. I just—fuck, can we talk later?”

Geto had a smug look on his lips. “Nah, let’s talk about this now.”

“We need to exorcise this little shit or else we won’t hear it from Yaga-sensei.”

“I know, but I find this more interesting.”

“Why you—” Satoru shook his head and then placed both of his palms on his cheeks. He felt his face fall into a flushed state; he knew exactly why he wouldn’t be able to be committed, and part of the reason would be that he was someone that really couldn’t protect the weak forever, let alone the person that he may end up with long enough to call his soulmate.

If that ever happened.

Satoru knew who he was as a person; he wasn’t going to let anyone get in the way of who he was, mostly because he believed he wasn’t capable of being in a relationship. The strongest and the idea of continuously protecting someone who was weaker than him seemed exhausting. It was a selfish thought, though he couldn’t blame himself; he mostly worried about himself rather than worrying and caring for another that wasn’t him.

Despite the obvious selfish thought, Satoru couldn’t find himself to let anyone close to him get in any dangerous situations. Even though he knew that—hypothetically if he did love someone—he wouldn’t let that happen, but he didn’t believe anyone should grave themselves in any bit of danger that the jujutsu sorcery life held, let alone an innocent person.

“Fine,” Geto placed his hands on his shoulders and stretched out his back. He let out a tired yawn before he glanced up at the stairs ahead, where the walls were cracked and the paint was chipped. Clearly, the building had been abandoned for quite some time, and Geto looked at Satoru with a pleasing smile. “But tell me about this new girl you’re trying to mess with.”

“Can it wait?” Satoru whined, portraying a playful pout as he bit his bottom lip that quivered.

“I don’t think so.”

“Man, alright,” Satoru sighed, placing one of his palms on the back of his head. “She’s really cute. She doesn’t talk at all, really—actually, she’s deaf.”

“What now?”

“She can’t hear,” Satoru explained, pointing at his ears and mouthing out words.

Geto looked at him with an irritated stare, clearly, a vein was popping out from his forehead and he huffed, “I know what being deaf means. But how are you even talking to her?”

“She talks on her phone and types out the words,” Satoru explained, scratching his head. “She has these implants or something that she wears and she talked to me about it today.”

“I take it that she doesn’t have many friends?”

“Man, I really don’t know.”

“And you’re gonna fool around with her feelings like that?”

Satoru whined, placing his palms on his flushed forehead. “Can we please talk about this later or something? I don’t wanna hold back on this mission.”

Geto had a smirk grow on his lips. “You actually want to get some business done, hmm?”

“Shut it,” Satoru said as he gritted his teeth.

“Fine, but this conversation isn’t over.”

“Fine.”

At least for now the conversation was over.

#gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru imagines #gojo satoru x you #jujutsu kaisen imagines #shrimp: fics #shrimp: silence.fic

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tessiete · 3 years

Text

So, my mum sent me a prompt, and I...I wrote it. Still working on those in my inbox, but mum’s come first, ya know?

She picked Spotify #12 (Love You Back, by Metric), and she wanted Luke and Qui-Gon bonding. I tried, mum, but Korkie just shows up all the time.

Love, your daughter.

LIFT UP, AND FALL AWAY

Luke travels to Dantooine by himself.

It’s been weeks since Bespin, weeks since he’d been released from medical supervision aboard the Dreamless Sleep and weeks since he’d left all its well-meaning but overbearing clinicians behind. He knows he should go back to Yoda, or hunt for the bounty hunter who took Han, or help Leia rally the scattered rebel forces back into order, but instead, he makes his escape.

There is little enough to recommend the planet. It is an outer rim world with no industry or economy to speak of. There are no cities, or monuments, the largest settlements boasting hardly more than a few thousand people and recent rumours suggest a small but growing number of them may be Imperial sympathisers which doesn’t bode well for him: The Miracle of Yavin; The First Hope of the Alliance. He can’t imagine anything like that will be met with particular enthusiasm here.

But even beyond political allegiances, it is a distinctly unappealing place being both unremarkable and largely unremarked. It is off of any useful trade route. It has few interplanetary allies, and only one weak judicial body to govern the entirety of its surface. In fact, the best thing Luke can think to say of it is that it is nearly as far away from Tatooine as it is possible for anything to be.

And far from Dagobah, too.

He brings his X-Wing down in the middle of a grassy plain, and leaves Artoo to run diagnostics on the ship. It’s his second (since he’d abandoned the first in Cloud City), and so lacking in all the alterations he’d so carefully programmed and calibrated into his previous fighter. He’s trying not to think of it as a nuisance, but an opportunity. A second chance. A second ship. A second hand - he smirks at this, and adjusts the blaster at his hip. He needs a second blade.

But there is something else that he must do first.

The sun is high as he sets off, only a small ration pack slung across his chest, and the blaster with him. Artoo’s whistling complaints grow fainter as he goes, until they are drowned completely beneath the whispers of swaying grasses. They are all turned brown. It is late in the year, and so they are filled with the gossip of an entire season. They brush against his legs, eager to touch this visitor and pass on rumours of his presence to their brethren, the trees, whose voices are heard in the rustle of leaves, then carried off on the wind in birdsong.

In the distance, he sees a herd of grazing iriaz, but they move off long before he is close enough to comprehend them as anything more than silent shadows, silhouetted against the sky. They leave prints - wide tracks scratched into dusty earth, and little pools where they have kicked up some water to sustain them. Common havoc kites circle lazily overhead, riding the updrafts on stiff, unyielding wings. They too, take no interest in Luke, and soon disappear in search of prey. The drone of some insect rises and falls and vanishes, its source remaining unseen. It seems to Luke that all of Dantooine is of a beautiful, but uncurious nature, content to live and let live without extending either welcome or censure to those who cross its lands.

It is in this manner, unencumbered by anything but the weight of his thoughts, that Luke finds himself only a few hours later passing beneath the boughs of ancient blba trees to arrive on the doorstep of a tidy stone cottage in the middle of the Khoonda plains. The base is a round structure, supporting another smaller yet equally round structure on top, like buckets of sand packed tight and upturned upon each other. Where they meet, there is a ring of wood slats, angled steeply downward as shingles to protect from run off, the door an old fashioned vertical slide that folds over itself as it springs from the floor to hide away in the crossbeam above. He knocks, and when a man with blue eyes, and gold hair threaded silver answers, Luke knows why Ben’s ghost has asked him to come.

“I’m looking for Kryze,” he says.

“That’s me,” the man replies, his brow furrowed. He keeps one hand on the door, and the other braced against the wall within to lend him strength should he need it, but there is no fear in his voice, despite the blaster he’s clearly noted.

“I’ve been sent to find you,” Luke says, and Kryze sighs.

“Well,” he says, shoulders sagging, and his body shifting to grant Luke admittance. “You’d better come inside.”

The space is warm, the amber light of the afternoon filtering through rippled glass windows to dance over cluttered walls, and overfull shelves. There are plants, bursting from their pots like Tusken black powder on fire. Paintings cover every inch of the wall not taken up with windows or furniture, and canvases lie stacked atop one another in various crevices and corners where space has run out. Books - proper old volumes printed on flimsi, and in some cases actual paper, stand front to back to front in orderly lines high in their cramped cases, regimented troops of education and exploration. Lower down are curiously bent sticks, twisted knots of dry grass, beetle wings, the shed scales of a rosy drayk, leaves of various size and colour, and a small river stone, smooth and black and streaked with red.

“Various treasures,” Kryze explains, as Luke is lost in his perusal. “You can touch them, if you like. Shall I put a kettle on?”

He wipes his hands upon an old rag, leaving streaks of blue and green, tossing it down beside a murky pitcher of water, and several brushes, and it is then that Luke realises he has caught him in the middle of something personal and profound.

“I don’t mean to bother you,” he says. “If you’re busy, I can wait. Or come back. Or -”

“Nonsense,” says Kryze, smiling. The expression is familiar, and Luke smiles back, feeling some common thread strum between them. “I ought to start on lastmeal anyway. We’re having muja dai-ungo for pudding. A favourite, you see, and yet I am the sole chef in this endeavour, since the other beasts which live here are prone to eating the jelly and leaving none for the glaze.”

It is some joke which Luke is not entirely certain of, so he smiles politely but doesn’t laugh as Kryze draws him into the cramped cookroom at the side. Water is set to boil on an ancient hot top, and Kryze sweeps aside a variety of holopads and half-finished string weaves to make space on the countertop. He pulls down two ceramplast cups, chipped and cracked, and smirks ruefully at his guest.

“A hazard of my unfortunate circumstances, you see. They say no plan survives contact with the enemy, and I take it to mean nothing at all survives contact with children. Everything here is somewhat the worse for wear, I’m afraid.” But there is nothing except long-suffering amusement in his voice, as though his pretensions of civility are an easy and happy price to pay for the benefit of such injury.

A shriek, followed by a chorus of laughter tumbles in from outside, and Kryze opens the window for a better view. Luke, overly alert to danger and almost surprised by joy, cannot help but duck his head to look, too.

A woman in long skirts races across the yard, followed by a girl brandishing a stick who looks only a few years younger than Luke, though she feels lightyears away.

“Wait!” calls another voice, high and pleading. As the first two cavort out of sight, a third girl appears, only to stop at the call, and turn back as the fourth, and final member of the party staggers into view. A boy, no older than seven or so, sets himself down upon the ground, crossing his arms in displeasure as the girl walks back to soothe him. “They run too fast,” Luke hears him lament. “And I have lost the poesy you made me.”

Kryze lets out a breath of laughter, assured there is no danger except perhaps to his son’s vanity, and returns to his pot, measuring out leaves and water with equal care. Luke watches the girl give her brother a hug, and coax him off in pursuit of the others.

“My eldest, Jinn,” Kryze explains. “She’s a wild thing, like her mother. And Mav, too, but with a softer heart. Corim is the youngest, and most civilised of the bunch. Thank the stars, or I’m afraid I’d be terribly overrun out here. Do you take anything in your tea?”

“Um, no,” Luke says, thinking of the heavy spices of Tatooine brews.

But the drink placed before him is a thin and watery kind of thing, of a pale pink colour. He can see the ceramplast through the liquid, and raises it to his lips skeptically.

Kryze watches him with that same kind amusement he seems to regard everything.

“It is a local variety of my own invention,” he explains. “Made from dried diabolix berries. Just the dried ones, mind you. The ones off the bush are deadly.”

Luke freezes, the rim of the cup pressed to his lips, the mild sweetness of sun still on his tongue, and Kryze laughs. He’s come here for a purpose, but has instead found himself trapped with a kind of domesticated eccentric.

He sets his tea down as politely as he can, while Kryze doesn’t hesitate to drink deeply from his own cup.

“I don’t want to be rude,” he says. “But I actually came here to deliver a message. From Obi-Wan Kenobi.”

At this, Kryze finally stills, his eyes meeting Luke’s with an apprehensive solemnity. “Of course,” he says. “What news?”

“He’s dead.”

The cup settles upon its saucer with only a faint chime of protest.

“Ah,” says Kryze.

In the following silence, guilt sweeps in, and soon Luke finds himself scrambling for the frayed edges of comfort and sympathy.

“It was fast,” he says. “And he knew what he was doing. He saved my life, and my friends. Vader - do you know anything that’s going on in the galaxy right now?”

That quiet, aching smirk curls upwards once more.

“Of course,” says Kryze. “Why else would I be way out here?”

“I’m sorry,” Luke says.

Kryze stands to clear the table of their tea.

“You say you’ve left your ship a few hours west? It is much too late for you to return to it now. Stay. Eat with us. Have a good night’s rest. Tomorrow, I should like to show you something.”

It is impossible for Luke to refuse this hospitality, not after he’s made such a mess of his own reason for coming here. He owes Kryze this much, at least.

“Of course,” he says. “If it isn’t any problem.”

“No problem at all,” Kryze insists. “There is an orchard down the path. If you follow the screams and laughter you should find it all right. The girls will collect you in time for latemeal.”

Thus dismissed, Luke removes his pack, but keeps his blaster close, heading for the door. At the threshold, he is overcome by a need to know for certain, and he turns back for one last look at the mysterious Kryze.

“Can I just ask,” he begins. “How did you know him? Obi-Wan, I mean. Why did he send me here to talk to you?”

His back to the door, Luke almost misses the reply carried back on the ghost of laughter.

“Oh, that,” says Kryze. “Well, after all, I am his son.”

The sun of Dantooine is much too reserved to intrude, and so it is to the clatter of dishware, and eager voices that Luke wakes the next morning. He stretches, and moves from his room to the sonics across the hall he thinks without attracting notice, but he is met, upon his exit, with the startled aspect of the youngest Kryze listening at the door.

Corim’s jaw snaps shut, and he frowns before declaring quite firmly that, “I wasn’t spying. I was only checking to see if you hadn’t died in the night you slept in so late.”

Luke grins. “Not dead yet, I don’t think.”

“Well, if you don’t hurry, there shan’t be any flatcakes left, no matter what Bebu says.”

“I’ll be there in a sec,” Luke assures him, and he stalks away entirely unconvinced.

Despite this threat, the table in the main room is still heaped with food when Luke emerges, fresher and more relaxed than he’s been in ages. The Kryzes are already packed tight around the table, but Mav and Jinn happily bunch over to make room for Luke between them. Mav, especially, goes out of her way to fill his glass, and pile his plate with the last of the muja preserves left over from the night before.

“Hey, that was my share,” complains Jinn, her mouth full. “You’ve already had seconds today.”

Mav blushes, and ducks her head, but her retort is vehement for all that her embarrassment is public. “We have a guest,” she says. “And your face is so full of cake you wouldn’t even taste the jelly anyway!”

“I didn’t get seconds!” Corim chimes in.

“Mother!” Jinn demands, taking her appeal to a higher court.

“Jinn, relax,” says Wyla, supremely unbothered, sipping her kaf and reading off her holopad. “Mav, be nice. Corim, I have a treat for you later.”

“S’not fair,” Jinn grumbles into her plate, but Wyla reaches over to pat her hand sympathetically.

“If you’re looking for the worst villain to blame, then examine your father’s plate. He’s more than enough jelly on that cake to last us to next harvest.”

At this, Kryze looks up to shoot his daughter a smug grin, before shoveling a heavily laden portion of flatcake into his mouth. Jelly, piled too high to survive the journey, tumbles from his fork to splatter against the flat of his plate as emphasis of his unjust indulgence.

“Delicious,” he declares. Jinn rolls her eyes, while Luke smuggles in a bite of his own portion.

It is tasty, both sweet and tart and satisfyingly thick. The meal continues through several more hotly negotiated contracts, and concludes with Wyla and Mav packing up the old speeder with the spoils of their orchard, and Jinn agreeing to mind Corim, much to her delight and his wary dismay. Kryze, it is announced, has business to attend to with Luke, and he does not expect their return before nightfall.

“Bring your rucksack,” he says, as they prepare to leave. “It is a long walk, and I shall want for snacks on the way.”

They set off with the sun on their faces, passing once more beneath the blba trees, the little cottage growing more and more distant as they make their way forth on the plains. Luke trusts that Kryze has some set destination in mind, but after the first hour he privately wonders if his guide has been distracted, and has brought them to wander in admiration of the land.

“That there is an extremely rare simbyloona butterfly,” he says, gesturing with a long wooden staff at the erratic path of the insect. “You ever been to Konkiv? Or Sriluur?”

“No,” says Luke.

“They have butterflies there,” explains Kryze. “What about Endor’s forest moon?”

“Never heard of it.”

“Well, if you ever go, keep an eye out,” he says, pushing on.

The world seems much more alive with Kryze today. Longhoppers leap from the grass as he wades through, warbling tiktiks swoop over head to catch them. One of unique boldness lands upon the top of Kryze’s staff when he stops to show Luke the little dirt mounds of puppi mice beneath their feet. He smiles, and extends a finger to the bird which cocks its head from side to side before giving in to temptation and hopping upon Kryze’s outstretched hand.

“Hello, there,” he sings, soft and low. “Aren’t you a brave thing?”

He holds the bird forth so that Luke may have a closer look at the colourful plumage before lifting it higher to the sky to release it.

“Off you go, then,” he says. “Beautiful animal, isn’t it? Usually quite shy though. You must bring good luck.”

Luke watches the course of the bird, and hardly knows he’s replied until he’s already said, “Your father said there was no such thing.”

“Did he?” Kryze beams. “Well, he always had such odd notions.”

“Unlike you?” Luke asks. It’s not that he’s insulted by the man’s amusement at a dead man, but it does seem somewhat hypocritical in light of the bird, and the paintings, and the tea.

But Kryze takes no offense, only quirking an eyebrow to say, “Where do you think I got it from?”

For all his evident curiosity this challenge seems to be exactly the sort of query Kryze was waiting for, and he begins to tell Luke all manner of things about himself as they move ever on towards the horizon.

“My mother was the Duchess of Mandalore,” he says. “A pacifist, though you’d never know it by the way the galaxy remembers us. And for a year she was under the protection of my father. They fell in love, as tragically and impossibly as any young person could wish, and when they parted my father left confident in his ignorance, and my mother was left with me. It’s difficult to say who came out ahead in that.”

“I thought the Jedi couldn’t love,” says Luke.

“And whoever told you that nonsense?” asks Kryze. “You told me my father died saving you, and he cannot have done that for anything less than the purest love.”

Luke says nothing to this, only twists a knot of grass off in his hand and releases it to the wind. They walk in strained silence until it becomes comfortable again, and Luke exhales in resignation.

“I only just met my father,” he says. “He tried to kill me.”

Kryze looks at him, then stops to look at him harder.

“Oh, I see it now,” he says. “You’re a Skywalker. I might have guessed it, but I’m afraid I’m rather out of practice these days.”

“Are you a Jedi, too?”

“No, no,” he scoffs. “Nothing so serious as all that. But I know enough to be able to tell the blaze of a Skywalker from the general inferno of starfire. I know enough to be recognised in turn.”

“Is that why you’re out here? Hiding from the Empire?”

Kryze grimaces at this, and turns back to the path ahead. A shadow looms, rising out of the ground, and he turns their course to that.

“What makes you think I’m hiding?” he asks. Then, before Luke can parse the riddle in this, he continues. “I used to be in the Alliance,” he says. “Wyla, too. We ran intelligence rings, and sabotage missions. We fought. Even had more than a few close calls with the Empire. But at some point, around the time that Wyla found out about Jinn, we decided that was it. We’d done our part. And when the Rebellion left their base here, we stayed behind.”

“The Empire still exists,” says Luke.

“And it will not be my hand which stops it,” counters Kryze. Then, as the shadow takes the form of a ruined temple sprung from the earth itself, he speaks again. “My parents both died for peace. I think that I owe it to them to live for it. Here we go.”

Vines cling to ancient stone, while tangles of brush climb up and over crumbled walls and gaping cracks in the side of the old building. The trees grow thickly here, still green and lush despite the lateness of the year.

“A wellspring,” explains Kryze, without Luke’s having to ask.

He guides him past hollowed out chambers pierced only by shafts of dazzling sunlight breaking through fractured ceilings, and bouncing off shallow, invisible puddles within. Animals chirrup in the brush, and birds nest in all the little nooks and crannies of decaying architecture. Though it is long abandoned, there is still something light and sacred about the space. The air is fresher here.

“This is a Jedi place,” breathes Luke.

“It was,” agrees Kryze. “Long before the Empire. Come along. There’s something else.”

Beneath a fall of greenery and fallen rocks lies an opening.

“What is it?” asks Luke.

“Caves,” says Kryze. Luke looks at him, still uncertain. “I have noticed that you carry no lightsaber,” he explains.

Luke flexes the fingers of his false hand, feeling the pistons and levers firing in time with his desire, but different from the muscles and sinew of his flesh. It cannot be observed by casual inspection, but somehow Kryze seems to know.

“I lost it,” says Luke.

“Then you shall have to build another.” He gestures again to the cave mouth, and Luke braces himself to go in. He shifts the blaster on his hip, checking the settings. “You won’t need that in there,” says Kyze. “There’s nothing inside but old ghosts.”

He is halfway to moving when he hesitates, and leans back. With his eyes fixed on Kryze’s, Luke unstraps the holster from his side, and hands it and his blaster into the hands of Ben Kenobi’s son. He goes into the caves alone.

It is dark inside, and there is a chill and the sound of water dripping into water somewhere far away. Luke steps carefully. Though the ground is rocky and uneven, his steps are certain and he does not falter. After several minutes of silent exploration, with no strange whispers or startling movement, the fear he entered with begins to fall away, leaving Luke’s mind open to the growing threat of boredom. There is nothing here. He sighs, and turns to leave only to discover the way out has grown just as dark as the path going farther in. He has no torch, no light, and no sabre to guide his path, but his irritation blazes bright enough to guide him and he sets off the way he came.

When he has walked more than twice the distance he came, and then gone back to walk the distance again, he decides there is little he can do but sit and hope that Kryze will come for him. Surely, he hasn’t brought him here to starve after feeding him so thoroughly only hours ago. And for all that Luke feels helpless in the inky pits of the caves, Kryze had not lied when he said his blaster would be of no use. There is no one here but Luke.

He sets himself down against a stone, the seat of his pants made uncomfortably damp by the floor, and quite to his own surprise, drifts off.

When he wakes, there is light.

All around him are outcroppings of crystals in various shapes and colours. Some shine more brightly than the others, and some glow so fervently it is as though they sing. He reaches out to touch one, and the rest all clamour in harmony to meet him.

Every thought of escape is eclipsed by the beauty in the caves, and Luke trails his fingers over each crystal that calls out, following their voices deeper and deeper into the caves. Until, in the deepest chamber, on the shores of a vast underground lake, he is met by something which glows brighter than all the crystals combined.

For a moment, he is compelled to shield his eyes, as the flare bursts forth in effulgent magnificence before dying down to live within the confines of an unrecognisable form.

It is a man with long hair, a kind smile, and wearing the robes of a Jedi.

“Hello, little one,” it calls out, and Luke raises his hand in reply. “I was wondering when I might have the chance to meet you.”

“Do I know you?” asks Luke, stepping closer.

The ghost chuckles. “Not as such,” he replies. “But I know you. You are the student of my student, after all. I am Qui-Gon Jinn.”

“You were Master Obi-Wan’s master!”

“And Master Yoda’s, too,” brags the ghost, enjoying the awe of Luke’s epiphany, but this is a boast too far, and Luke’s face falls into lines of skepticism.

“That can’t be true,” he says. “Master Yoda is much too old to have been taught by you.”

“Ah, and must education end with the cessation of breath? Cannot knowledge outlast us? Cannot learning outlive us?”

“Can it?” asks Luke.

“We are more than what we do in life, my boy,” says Qui-Gon. He sits upon one of the larger stones which border the edge of the lake, leaving space beside him for Luke. “And there is much to be learned by death, for those brave enough to seek it.”

Luke frowns, and moves to join him, trying to puzzle out the ghost’s philosophy.

“Are you suggesting -” he looks to the Jedi for confirmation, not convinced of his conclusion. “You’re not saying that we should just give in, are you? That we should just accept death when we could stop it?”

“Not at all,” says Qui-Gon, and Luke relaxes upon the stone. “It’s good that you fight. It’s important you fight. Don’t rush to death in the vain hope that it will bring you easy satisfaction. Life and death - they are balanced. They are equal. And there is much value to be found in both.”

“Is that why Ben let go?” Luke asks.

“Obi-Wan was wise to concede his life,” says Qui-Gon. “But that does not make his loss any more bearable for you. Or for me. And though I am glad to be with him once again, I will always wish he’d had more time with you.”

There is a smear of clay grown dry upon his knee, and he brushes it off with one hand.

“Me, too,” he says to the ghost.

“But that is Obi-Wan’s lesson for you,” says Qui-Gon, his voice ringing clear across the lake. “He knows what it means to let go, but I -” he says. “I am here to show you how to hold on.”

And in the crystalline light of the caves, and the glittering warmth of the ghost, Luke learns of his lineage, and his family, and all the ways in which he is never alone. Qui-Gon speaks of the past. He tells him of a little boy who struggled and overcame, and a little boy who struggled and fell, and how neither of them loved the other any less. He tells the story of an ancient Order, and a girl queen; of a duchess, and a knight; of children lost to their parents, and parents lost to themselves. He tells of blood, and consequences, and desire, and regret, and joy, and sorrow, and how it all lives on in memory, and in stories, and in relics, and in paintings, and in river stones, and in muja dai-ungo, and in him.

“There is nothing lost,” says Qui-Gon. “So long as you choose to remember it. Neither life, nor love, nor people. Hold on. And don’t let go.”

And as he fades away into darkness, the song of a single crystal cries out, drawing Luke up, and up, and out of the black of the caves into the evening sun.

At the mouth of the hollow, standing with the light in his hair, and Ben Kenobi in his eyes, stands Kiorkicek Kryze. In his hands, a sabre, the kyber inside calling out.

And when Luke touches the hilt, he knows that this one is his.

“I thought it might be you,” says Kryze, smiling. He shifts Luke’s bag high against his shoulder and turns to the setting sun. “Come on,” he says. “They’ll be waiting for us.”

And when he finally returns to his ship, and Artoo, and programmes a course for home, Luke leaves Dantooine by himself, but he is not alone.

#my fic #prompt fill #spotify prompt fill #korkie kryze #korkie kenobi #qui-gon jinn #luke skywalker

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whoknowsbud · 3 years

Text

Stand Mutation AU

Warning, this is FILLED with body horror! And somewhat loose but present connections to the recent epidemic! Mainly in part 4...

These are mostly just lists of the designs, and this post will only contain parts 3 & 5. There’s a lot more bulk to what was written to part 4, and there’s a lot more angst written, so that’s going to be a separate post.

(Which is now here!)

The idea here is essentially taking the ‘stand sickness’ Holy and Josuke had and twisting it into overdrive. Rather than gaining stands, the infected mutate (often horrifically, but there are some who look almost unaffected) based on their in-canon stands. The uninfected don’t see the full image; the shapes and colors come through, but not completely. The common headlight-style eyes are a big giveaway (until they’re not).

The mutations here will also commonly hinder most functions, especially rational thought. It’s most often temporary as the infected adjusts to the changes of their body. This can take a number of forms, but what happened to the Nijimura brothers is the worst it gets. The term for this for now is going to be ‘fried’.

The infection is only transferred by the arrow, and genetic relation.

Part 3

Holy has flowers growing on her body. Has a way better handle on it than Jotaro; fully present and coherent, the flowers just need to sap a little of her energy to grow big and bright. So, yeah, she's completely fine.

Jotaro ends up this ethereal star man with so much luscious hair, but also partly fried at the start; ends up being essentially like a big dog for a while (acts on base instinct and can’t articulate).

Joseph’s arms become vines. That’s it, that’s all. Vines for arms.

Avdol is pretty much just fused with Magician’s Red. I say ‘just’, but he’s pretty damn rad.

Kakyoin is basically a bunch of wires, wrapped to make a more human shape. Rather than shooting solid energy bursts, he can send energy through the wires.

Polnareff, like Avdol, is also just fused with his Silver Chariot. The armor and sword are still removable.

Iggy is made of sand. Can shapeshift, often takes the form of a wolf, because he can and he wants to.

Hol Horse has a gun for a hand. Yes, that's all.

Gray Fly... tiny man. Beetle sized old man with beetle wings and dagger tongue. Nasty nasty.

Imposter Captain Tenille is a fish-man, simple as that. Basically take Dark Blue Moon and put it in the mans clothes. This makes it obvious that he’s the enemy the moment he comes out, but Anne is still under some suspicion at first.

Forever is just Strength. Green ship with orangutang face.

Devo basically is Ebony Devil. Imagine making a (somewhat crappy) almost life size doll of Devo, and there you go. Rather than needing a grudge to act, he forms his grudge as he fights, making him stronger.

Rubber Soul is just Yellow Temperance; when he went through stand puberty he just pretty much melted.

J. Geil is just Hanged Man; only seen through reflections. Tied a knife to his hand.

Nena is almost the same as canon; she assimilates a beautiful woman to host her real body (which has no skin covering, so here she needs a host, the looks are just preference), and still leaves parasites on victims through her blood.

ZZ's stand mutation is actually his arm. His arm is the car.

Enya… ghost? Still uses fog for the illusions, still does puppet stuff? But then Jotaro would still have to suck her down so NO, THANKS

Steely Dan, the crab man. Can duplicate himself but at NOWHERE near the same rate. Not as effective either. He's about the size of your average 14 year old.

Arabia Fats is just. On fire. Fire man. Human torch. But more fire. Just fire.

Mannish boy appears with a flat, jester-like face, so the group knows to refuse.

Cameo... genie?

Midler is basically herself with High Priestess's power to become any mineral. Still can shapeshift, but its limited.

N’Doul… could be a water man. Sends his hand out so he can stay safely out of most people’s range.

Anubis... is just the same Anubis as canon. It's a sword, what were you expecting?

Mariah is the magnetizer. It happens through contact, and feels like a small static shock. It does not work on normal people, although they do feel the shock.

Alessi has just become a shadow, his own silhouette, that de-ages those it touches like in canon, with the same eyes and manifesting ability, too. Cannot talk.

The D’arby brothers are a terrible amalgamation of the souls they’ve taken.

Pet Shop is... just its stand I think.

Vanilla Ice is another stand/user mix. As uncomfortable as the v o r e is, it seems like the only sensible thing...

Dio is similar to Jotaro. But green & yellow, with more disturbing growths (those... bullet chain suspenders looking things, and the apparent oxygen tanks on the back). He's a bit distorted, rippling in time with the seconds.

Part 5

Haruno becomes a plant creature (Oh you want limbs? Limbs to hold things? Too bad, you get tendrils!), changes his name to Giorno. The human body is still inside, controlling everything. When he’s truly happy, he blooms.

Bruno's body is just zippers. They can all be opened or closed (although if they're all opened he's kind of a mess, and its an awful noise), and what's under them is just a void. He seems to have glowing orbs as eyes, revealed by a single open zipper over where his eyes would be. To resemble a more human form, he has zippers on his head to look like hair. There are a few zippers that hang off his arms and legs almost like fins, and he will whip you with them.

Abbachio is a glitchy creature that looks like someone constantly flipping channels, with a sort of goo coating his body in almost the exact way it does Moody Blues.

Narancia is a ‘cyborg’, fighting logic output to stay ‘human’

Mista basically goes through mitosis, becoming 7 of himself; but it takes time for them to truly separate.

Fugo appears to be normal, but he has this ‘oxygen’ tank & connected mask. The Purple Haze virus is more of a gas here, produced in his lungs, so he has to have a way to contain it when he's around others. Once he starts getting emotional, he sort of melts into a zombie-like form; starts looking like a typical victim of Purple Haze.

(Giorno's able to take in an absurd amount of toxins and pollution and spit out a shit ton of oxygen, so there's much less concern.)

WE RETAIN THE DINOSAUR SPICE GIRL HERE, TRISH IS A STRETCHY & SQUISHY LIZARDWOMAN.

Mr President is a cube, still with the room. He's like a box. A box turtle, you might say.

Polpo is still in prison. His shadow does pretty much everything Black Sabbath does. Permanent poggers face.

Zucchero is a slug. Has spikes on his body that perform Soft Machine’s ability, and they’re barbed to grab the deflated forms.

Sale... maybe he's already dead. Infection stopped his own heart or something. Or hes like.. a landmark. Like Angelo in canon; fully immobile, but sort of immortal. /till you destroy the body I guess...

Formaggio’s size is constantly fluctuating, not always proportionately consistent.

Illuso... doesn't exist outside of mirrors. He can still communicate to those on the other side, and pull them in, but can't leave, himself. He works similarly to Yoshihiro Kira; ig seal the mirror, you seal him.

Prosciutto has so many eyes. Just all over, so so many. Somewhat shriveled up from the waist down.

Pesci has a fishing pole arm I guess...

Melone is some sort of... digital-ish cyborg thing. The Babyface kids are the same though

Ghiaccio is essentially fused with his suit, with the weak spot in the back of his neck frozen over. It’s actually like the mane of a lion, but ice; he can’t turn his head at all, speaking is near impossible, and eating is a struggle as well. The white album fight reveals a lot:

Due to literally being plants, Giorno has to revert back to Haruno or risk serious danger. This is the first time he’s come out; they knew he existed (he was mentioned in passing) but they weren't sure if he was alive or dead. When he can take his plants form again, it’s... kind of horrifying. Roots and vines coming out of his body, wrapping around him...

Risotto is basically a living Metallica colony. Take risotto, make every 5x5 pixels a metallica bean, there you go that’s him.

Squalo... Sharkboy

Tiziano looks fine, but his mouth is all wrong. Tongues like a starfish.

Secco... mud? Mudman?

Cioccolata looks like a zombie, moldy and decomposed an shit.

Diavolo and Doppio are... basically, literally, just King Crimson and Epitaph. They can apparently switch places? Maybe

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beautifulchaostrash · 3 years

Text

Restless Beetles

_____________________________

Martin x Male Reader

Tws/Cws: brief mentions of bugs, implied NSFW, brief homophobia ment

Image credit

_____________________________

You stood nervously at the entrance of Cuda’s butcher shop. You really, really, should not have let your friends talk you into doing this. Bullied, you mentally decreed. They had actually bullied you, and you made a mental note to never again reveal your crushes to anyone.

You frowned to no one in particular and recited in your head the words you were going to say. Worrying at your lip, hesitant to take the final steps across the threshold. You were a stranger to him, you two had never spoken before and quite honestly you had no right to ask him out like this. But just as you had finally convinced yourself to turn back and go home, the universe decided it would be really funny to shove its entire fist up your ass.

Bells jingled as the door opened suddenly, nearly knocking into you. You jumped back, and the figure that stood before you stiffened for a moment. Doey-brown eyes regarded you with a worried expression, accentuated by a pout on his lower lip. You gawked, stunned by his handsomeness. He quickly averted his gaze from yours, and turned down the steps, walking away from you with little fanfare. Seeing him leave filled you with a kind of panic, as if you were rudely ignoring the presence of a unicorn.

“Hey, wait!”

He snapped his head in your direction, almost frightened, and lulled to a stop. You jogged towards him.

“You’re Martin right? The new kid?”

He nodded, a few strands of hair falling in his face as he stared down at his shoes.

“M-my name’s Y/N, and uh, well i was wondering if-” you swallowed, and let out an involuntary bout of nervous laughter.

He tilted his head, side-eyeing you slightly, eyebrow twitching upwards. Oh boy, he definitely thought you were a weirdo now. You cleared your throat and tried to regain at least some kind of composure.

“I was wondering if you wanted to like, go out sometime? I mean, I-uh, figured that I could show you around the town, ya know, since you're new and all,” You rubbed the back of your neck and glanced away. “A tour, if you’d like. If you’re too busy though, I totally understand I-”

“Sure,” he mumbled.

You flushed again at the sound of his voice, so soft, quiet, with a small hint of mystery behind it. It sounded like a fine champagne that had been opened only for a special occasion. It was there and then that you knew this man would become your addiction, your desire, something you wanted to gobble down and slowly savor all at the same time. You grinned, rocking back on your heels slightly.

“Alright then, does Saturday evening work for you?”

He nodded, and you were saddened that he did not use his voice to respond, but elated that he had accepted your proposal.

“I’ll pick you up from your house at seven then, I gotta run f-for now, but i’ll see you later, ok?”

You waved goodbye and brusquely started down the road in the opposite direction. You hated parting so abruptly, but if you had stayed any longer you would have been executed by the volley of cupid’s arrows that were waiting in the wings to pierce your tender heart. You shook your head at the stupid notion. For pete’s sake, you didn’t even know for sure if he was into guys. For all you knew, he was only saying yes so he would have the opportunity to send you home with a black eye and a broken rib, like so many before had done.

No! You shook your head again, confident that Martin wouldn’t do anything like that. I mean, he does look kind of gay, or at least bi-curious, but chalking things up to appearance alone was childish and stereotypical. God, why on earth did you have to make it sound like such a date? You could've asked to “hang out”, or “get to know him”, but nooooo you had to jump head first into romantic shenaniganery. You mentally kicked yourself the entire walk home.

....

Martin shuffled through the front door, having taken a longer route home so he could have time to think. Despite all the effort he had gone through to reach a conclusion about the earlier events, he had none. He was used to people being uncomfortable around him. Forcing smiles and how do you do’s when his eerily blank expression met theirs. Eyes darting around the room, finding any excuse not to be near this mute idiot. He was used to people being angry at him, terror and rage filling their eyes and minds as they ran after him with torches and weapons. The same anger and disgust that Cuda held in his own, not just for him, but for Christina, Arthur, and essentially anyone that was not himself. He was even used to people being attracted to him. Sexually attracted, mind you. He highly doubted whether Mrs. Santini was wondering about his day or how he was doing as she hungrily undressed him with her eyes.

He pocketed his sunglasses and trudged up the stairs, the shoddy bell alarm signaling his arrival. He hung his jacket and sat down near the window, drawing his knees to his chest and gazing out at the rapidly dwindling sunset.

“Y/N,”

He softly whispered the name like a prayer. You had acted so nervous, but not out of fear or discomfort. You beamed wildly when he replied positively to you. Smiling again as you waved him goodbye. You glanced back at him as you left, seemingly sad to leave. But what did it mean?

Boys never asked out other boys, at least none that he knew of, so it couldn’t possibly be a date. You were just trying to be friendly that’s all. But, then, why did you look at him like that? And why was your face so red despite the cool summer breeze? Maybe that’s why he said yes. He wanted to know why, what motive did you have, what could you possibly gain from befriending him. It scared him slightly, at least he knew Mrs. Santini got sexy stuff in return for being nice to him, but he didn’t know what you would want from him.

Maybe it was just some elaborate trick intended to make him look like a fool. He hoped it wasn’t. He hated making a fool of himself, it only made it harder for people to take his sickness seriously.

He always heard people talking about butterflies in their stomachs, they were referenced frequently in the romantic novels he read, but now, they didn’t feel like butterflies. He had beetles in his stomach, not fluttering all around, but crawling and squirming nervously at the bottom, condensing into a writhing mass of uncertainty.

Auchums Razor came to shed the light, as his stomach growled and he realized that he was only hungry. He stood up and stretched, gangly arms reaching first for the ceiling, then behind his back. Maybe he could chase away the beetles with whatever Christina was cooking for dinner.

As if on cue, he heard her voice calling from downstairs, asking him to set the table. He stuffed his hands in his pockets, and lumbered down the stairs, marching ever closer to what felt like his doom, or possibly, his salvation.

#mod elith #martin #martin matthias #martin 1977 #martin x reader #martin x male reader #slasher #fanfic

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spiralingsights · 3 years

Note

11 and 28? I would give an f/o but idk who these would fit

[ ohoho fake dating + enemies to lovers i can’t resist ]

[ “Please just pretend to be my date.” (11) and “Please tell me this is a joke.” (28) ]

[ Characters: William Afton, Keegs Arrowood ]

[ warnings: pining and repressed feelings lol ]

“Please just pretend to be my date.”

Keegs stared at his boss, processing what the man just said to him. Did he seriously just ask for Keegs, arguably his worst enemy, to be his date? For a fucking office party that Fazbear Entertainment was holding for restaurant owners? Why couldn’t he just ask Henry???

“Please tell me this is a joke,” the mechanic finally replied, his answer gaining a groan from William. Apparently, it was not.

“We both know I don’t joke with you,” William responded, confirming Keegs’s fears. What kind of stupid, fruity hell had he descended into? What did he do to deserve this? Well, he probably knew.

Keegs let out a long sigh, about to tell him to fuck off before William spoke again. “If it makes you feel any better, you’re my last hope. Henry said no, Scrap would have killed me if I asked, not even your idiot friend Wrath wanted to go.”

Of course he didn’t want to go, Wrath was in love with Splice and would have considered it cheating even if he still hadn’t told the animatronic his feelings.

“I hate you...” Keegs muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Why don’t you just go alone? No one will judge you for it, if you even care about that. And the rumour that you’re dating your employee would be worse!”

That seemed to make William think for a moment, opening his mouth for a rebuttal but closing it soon after. His gaze even drifted away- he clearly hadn’t thought about those consequences. After a moment, he shook his head.

“Being alone is more embarrassing.” Keegs let out a loud groan at this, running his hands over his hand and clasping them behind his neck as he turned away from that british fuck.

What made it worse is that he actually kinda wanted to go. Not because he wanted to go with William, but because he hadn’t had an excuse to dress up the entire time he’d been active. A big office party like this? It would be perfect. And it would give him the chance to scope out the other restaurant owners, and test their animatronic knowledge.

He finally turned to face William again, surprised to find the brunette still standing there. He had to admit, it was amusing to see him so desperate. He let out a huff a breath, giving in to the desire to wear a suit.

“Fine,” he said, not missing how his boss immediately lit up (while also somehow seeming disappointed- probably because he officially had to take his most hated employee to a function with him). “One condition.”

Of course he had a fucking condition. William just nodded, not wanting to push his luck. “Do not send anybody my way so they can talk to your “partner”. Tell them I’m socially anxious if you have to, but I will straight up tell them the horrors of this place.”

William’s face scrunched up in discomfort, but relaxed when he realized this was the best he was gonna get. “Deal.”

And so, it was set in stone.

---

Keegs straightened his jacket for what seemed like the hundredth time as he looked in the mirror in his bedroom. He’d have to leave soon; he didn’t want William to know where he lived, so they’d agreed that they’d meet at the Afton house instead.

The suit he wore fit perfectly, and was the same pink shade as his hair. Well, the jacket and slack were. His shoes were black, his shirt a light shade of lavender (to match William’s inevitably purple suit), and the little bowtie he wore was a rainbow eyesore.

With a quick glance at the clock, he ran a hand over his hair, said goodbye to Vanny, and headed out.

William’s house actually wasn’t too far from the apartment Keegs shared with Vanny, but he only came over at midnight and 2am, so it wasn’t like he could be tracked back there, so he never worried. This was the first time he’d ever driven there though, usually just walking.

He paused upon reaching the doorway. Did he really want to do this? And, more importantly, why was he excited to do it? He knew it was more than just a chance to dress up or interrogate some assholes. He didn’t like the metaphorical butterflies in his... well, he doesn’t really have a stomach. His intake?

....

He didn’t like the flutter in his chest when knocked on the door, and heard a familiar voice call out, “coming!” from inside. He especially didn’t like the extra flutter in his chest when the door opened and revealed William, dressed in a purple suit like he thought he’d be, but still surprising him nonetheless.

Apparently, Afton had the same idea Keegs did and was wearing a light pink dress shirt under his dark purple suit jacket, a shade that went perfect with the shade of Keegs’s own jacket.

Neither of them said anything about it, but Keegs couldn’t help but notice the pleased, and surprised, smile on his boss’s face.

“Let’s go,” he quickly said, turning on his heel and heading right back to his car.

---

William looked hilarious with his long limbs folded into Keegs’s volkswagen beetle, the car clearly not built for men as tall as him. It was a sight Keegs would treasure for the rest of his robotic life.

“Comfortable?” Keegs teased, snickering at the glare William shot at him. Thank god they were back to bullying each other, he wasn’t going to acknowledge whatever the fuck happened earlier without dying first.

“Laugh it up Arrowood, I doubt you’ll feel the same way when you’re out of your element,” William replied, narrowing his eyes at Keegs.

Unfortunately, and he’d never admit this, the bastard was right. Social functions weren’t Keegs’s thing. He’d never been good at feigning interest, and that was pretty important at shit like this.

But he just rolled his eyes. At least they’d be out of the car soon.

---

It wasn’t better out of the car.

The building the party was being held in was... crowded. Uncomfortable. Keegs ended up having to stick far closer to William that he’d planned, and whatever fucked up reaction his false human heart was having never let him forget it.

The only up side was that William seemed just as uncomfortable as he was. Not with the people around them, he spoke to them just fine and even seemed to forget about his fake date. That is, until Keegs bumped into him.

Of course he noticed that Afton’s face turned red whenever they touched, but he had no idea why. At first he thought he was angry, but William didn’t look like that when he got angry. Unfortunately, Keegs hadn’t reached the “human bodily reactions” part of his research yet, so it merely served to confuse him.

Finally, after three or four hours, he grabbed William’s arm to get his attention, ignoring the red on the man’s face. “I need a break. I’ll be out back. I probably won’t run.”

There was a short pause, before William took Keegs’s car keys and pocketed them. “You won’t escape me that easily,” the man joked, only because there were people watching. He even threw in a wink for effect.

Keegs just rolled his eyes, and escaped to through the backdoor. He was quick to pull his jacket off, relishing the cool breeze. Once realizing he wouldn’t be going back in for a while, he also untied his tie and unbuttoned the top buttons of his shirt.

Once satisfied, he sat down on the bottom step of the little stairs, holding his palm against his forehead to cool it down to help with his headache. It wasn’t long before he heard the backdoor open and close.

There was a pause, before the man (undoubtedly William, based on the footsteps) made his way down the stairs and sat down next to Keegs. The android looked over at him, not at all surprised to find he’d also taken off his own jacket, and loosened his tie.

“Getting too much for even you? I’m glad I left when I did,” Keegs said, returning to his goal of soothing his brain. He heard William chuckle. It was a soft sound, clearly from his chest. But it was also... not rude? It was actually kind of sweet.

And then he sighed, and the sound brought that flutter back. “I would seem so, yes. I forgot how draining it is to talk to idiots.” He meant people who weren’t handy with animatronics, something Keegs had learned from observation (eavesdropping).

Keegs just nodded. He understood. Animatronics were his whole life, it was hard to talk about anything but them.

“Thank you for coming with me,” William spoke up after a while, making Keegs look up at him again. “I know we don’t always get along, but I’ve... enjoyed it. Getting along, I mean.”

The mechanic just stared at him, surprised. He opened his mouth to presumably reply, but William leaned forward quickly and caught him in a gentle, cautious kiss.

Keegs shocked himself by returning it.

William’s lips were soft, and easy to lean into. Keegs suddenly understood how this man had ended up with a wife. He felt a hand in his hair, and leaned into it without breaking the kiss, unwilling to break the moment.

He’d noticed the tinge of alcohol on Afton’s lips the second they’d connected with his own, but he didn’t care all that much.

Finally, William broke it by leaning back, looking down at Keegs with slightly pink lips. “Between us?” he asked, his voice low and quiet, a small smile on his face. ‘Between us’ was a fun little thing they’d started the first time Keegs found the man covered in blood.

But this one was different. This one meant a lot more, and couldn’t be used at evidence against the man Keegs was supposed to eventually kill.

“Between us,” Keegs replied just as softly, and this time... he meant it.

#holy SHIT how did this get so long #scrap.writing #asky doo #anon #drabble request #this isn't a drabble anymore it's a fucking one shot wjhbfwebfjwe

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