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#nova writings
nova--spark · 4 months
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Starting yet another post of angst today because this was on the backburner a while but
As I'm sure everyone's read my previous post of OP's Perma-Tear tracks on his face.
Well, I wanted to talk about Megatron today.
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In the lore of TFP/Aligned, we see just how much anger and rage he has built up, and with how his frame is cracked, you would see immediately, as if it was battle damage right?
Well, I would like to state it to also be tear tracks.
Tears of rage, betrayal, anger and grief, to contrast the tears of sorrow, of sadness and melancholy that mark OP's face.
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Because when you are wholly unrighteously angry, you do start to cry, I know I have in the past when pissed off to my breaking point.
And we even see, when he was just Megatronus, friend of Orion, he did not have those scars, those tears of rage.
[Got my Artbook out for this image specifically]
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This warrior of Kaon, gladiator , warlord too walks with the scarred remnants of rageful tears on his face, as if they were scars of battle, that he makes no effort to hide.
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The tears of a victim from an unjust system, of someone pushed too far to the point of madness blinded by a near uncurbed wrath.
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And you see them marked a bit further, when noting his transformation by Unicron too, how more lines on his face look like dried tears.
Tears of sacrifice, that gave everything, and lost it all. Gained nothing but pain in the end, too blinded by anger and pride to find the solution before him all along.
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charliemwrites · 4 months
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Part 4!! (No content warnings)
Fuck these men :)
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You roll your neck, trying to loosen muscles tense from keeping your head locked in place. Hard work denying natural instinct to look at whoever is speaking, but the 141 doesn’t deserve any more of your attention than they’ve already stolen. Even if they didn’t know they had it at the time.
You’ll have to ask Nikto if he’ll massage out the knot forming there. He’s handy with anatomy like that.
“Listen, about what happened…” Gaz starts.
“Not relevant,” you snap, crouching behind a barrel.
“I’d say it’s pretty relevant,” he replies. “It’s not right, how we left things.”
You nearly snarl. ‘Not right’ is the understatement of the bloody century.
You twist on him. “You’re being unprofessional. Shut up and take this seriously, Garrick.”
You duck as a sniper shot pings dangerously close to your head. Spot Nikto across the way, hand-signaling to ask if you need back up. You reply with a ‘no’ and turn back to Gaz.
Thankfully, it seems he’s caught the message and keeps his mouth shut for the rest of the stupid drill. You resist a snappish comment when it’s over. Up until Gaz starts up again.
“I just think you deserve—”
“I don’t care what you think I deserve,” you interrupt. “I know what I deserve. And it’s a partner that can keep their feelings in their vest.”
Speaking of, Nikto appears at your side like a shadow in shifting light. There’s a disapproving tilt to his head, aimed at Gaz. You shake your head and tap your knuckles against his.
“Need a water break?” You ask, worried about how long he’s been under the helmet.
He shakes his head, then surprises you by bumping his forehead against yours — his version of a kiss. Even in private those are rare. You hum at him.
“Thank you, Nik.”
You have to run the next drill with Soap. Know from the start he’s going to be a stubborn prick about it. Can see it in the set of his jaw and the flicker in his eye.
“Didnae have to be a knob to Gaz,” he says.
You don’t respond, slipping away as the exercise begins. He calls after you and hurries to catch up, nearly blowing your cover.
“He feels bad enough for what happened, ye know.”
You level him a cool, blank stare. “You speak for him now?”
His eyes narrow. “If you won’t give him the chance to, aye.”
You knock his leg out from under him and fire at the “enemy” combatant, Nova. She sportingly goes down, but mutters that you should have let her take the shot. You should have.
“You compromise this drill again,” you tell a toppled Soap, “I’ll tell Laswell direct that you don’t belong on this mission.”
You spin on your heel and continue the exercise, ignoring any and all attempts by Soap to get you to speak again. At the very least, he picks up the slack, earns his callsign.
Nova finds you again when it’s over, arms around your neck and chest plastered to your back.
“Look’it you go, mamas,” she coos. “Shot me through the heart all over again.”
You laugh bending your legs to let her hop up for a piggy back ride. Yeah, you’re tired. But never too tired to carry your girl around. She giggles in your ear as you carry her off back to your captain for her next drill.
“With Price now,” he says, tucking your hair behind your ear.
“Sure thing, boss,” you answer, doing a good impression of enthusiasm.
You know your place, settle into position just behind Price’s left side. No overtures about the past this time. Whatever iota of lingering respect you have for him grows as you complete the drill flawlessly. When it’s over, the two of you are at the furthest point from the designated “start”. And that’s when he decides to open his stupid mouth.
“It wasn’t personal, you know,” he says.
You smooth out your expression even though you don’t turn to him, already starting back.
“Okay.”
“It was the best call,” he explains, falling into step with you.
You tilt him a sideways look, don’t even bother with your full gaze. Spent far too much time looking up to him, by your estimate.
“Okay.”
“I look out for my soldiers.”
You turn forward again. “I wouldn’t know.”
Your captain happens to intercept, sweeping you up with one arm. You yelp, though can’t help grinning as you hook your fingers in one of his chest straps.
“Shouldn’t sneak up like that, sir,” you scold.
“That’s how I’ll know when I need to retire,” he replies with a crooked grin. “When I can’t sneak up on you anymore.”
You huff, snatching his sunglasses off his face to wear all the way back to the start point. Keegan meets you, looks directly at you as he salutes.
“Captain,” he says.
You laugh, give your CO his glasses back.
“Keeping fuckin’ around, Russ,” the captain rumbles, “I’ll take it out of your ass later.”
You gasp, scandalized, and laugh as the little skin visible through his smearing face paint turns pink.
“Off with you, girl,” your captain says. “We’re done after this, so keep it quick and clean.”
“Yessir,” you reply, jogging off to meet Ghost.
Fucking Ghost.
You don’t spare him a single look as you set up for the exercise. If nothing else, you have every expectation that he won’t say a single goddamn thing to you. No attempted apologies, no reprimands, no justifications. Just radio silence, like always.
What you don’t expect is for him to treat you like nothing’s changed. Like you’re still a fresh transfer that can’t watch their own six. You consider just putting your “gun” away and trailing after him until the exercise is over, but that would be just slightly too immature.
So you suck it up, grit your teeth, and do your job. Up until he gets in the fucking way. You’re about to get a sneaky shot on Keegan — a rare thing indeed — but Ghost moves. Goes out of his way to get the shot you already had and loses you both the element of surprise.
“Fucking oaf,” you snarl, scrambling behind a wall. “Is this your first fucking day or something?”
His eyes flash across the corridor. “What the fuck did you just say?”
You don’t reply, getting low and kicking your boot off, carefully sneaking it towards the corner like you’re trying to peek out. Keegan comes around, aiming too high and in the wrong direction, and Ghost shoots him.
Keegan “goes down” — goes out of his way to land on you, actually. You huff and shove at him.
“It’s not nap time,” you groan.
“Can’t hear you, I’m dead.”
You snort and shimmy out from under him. Not so different from most mornings, actually.
“If you two are done…” Ghost growls.
You suck your teeth and stalk off, giving Keegan one last pat to the back. The rest of the drill is barely civil, Ghost’s eyes more on you than on the training grounds.
When it’s finally, finally over, you sigh and pause, trying to work out that knot again.
“Haven’t changed a bit, have you?” Ghost sneers.
It’s meant to hurt. Meant to piss you off. Maybe remind you of the last things he said to you. You don’t look at him, bending to re-lace your boots. Thrilled to realize it’s like poking at an old scar. The skin is deadened, even though a mark remains.
“Fuck you’re so immature,” he growls.
You straighten and just start walking. Keegan finds you almost instantly.
“The hell was that about earlier?” He asks, frown audible.
“Ugh, he got in the way. I would have fuckin’ had you, otherwise.”
His eyes spark with outrage. “He fuckin’ what?” He snarls, turning like he’s about to say something to Ghost. Which… no. Just not worth it.
“Keegs,” you sigh, “c’mon, I told you this would happen. He’s not worth it.”
He scoffs, laces his fingers with yours. “‘Course he’s not. Don’t waste bullets on the dead, right?”
You snort and tug him along. The rest of your team will be waiting.
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novalizinpeace · 2 months
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more random cartoon sketches from my file, this time with kickin
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growup-thatbeautiful · 8 months
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I LOVED your gym crush Dave lizewski fanfic!! If possible could you do a bimbo reader and Dave fic where reader needs help in whatever the case may be and gets horny around Dave and fucks him? Sorry for the sudden request
Of course lovely! 🧡
Warnings: sexual content, cursing, oral (m receiving), mdni
“Thank you so much for doing this,” you tell him when he opens the door. “I don’t know what I would do without you.”
“I think you would manage,” he replies, letting you inside. He looks good now, in his element, away from the jeers and teasing of his classmates and friends. The softness of his sweats and the tightness of his t-shirt makes him look so homey. It’s what you’re used to.
“My grades don’t agree.” It’s no secret to your school that you struggle in most, if not all of your classes. It’s not because you don’t try; you really really do. It’s just never been easy for you to understand what the teachers are talking about.
When you got sat next to Dave in math, you thought he would tease you like the others smart kids do. But he didn’t- he offered to help instead of you didn’t understand, and most of the time you don’t. Hence your arrival at his house, donning a lace tank top and shorts.
Dave’s not like the other guys you know. When he sits you down at his kitchen table, a paint-covered tablecloth on top of it, he offers you tea. Tea. Most guys offer you booze or water.
You try to pay attention, you really do. But you don’t understand what he’s talking about. You didn’t get it the first time, and you haven’t gotten it the second time. You want to let off some steam, and math isn’t helping. You’re frustrated and pent up.
It doesn’t help that you keep getting distracted. You didn’t realize it in class, but Dave’s so pretty. His long lashed and the restless curls on his head just beg for you to ruin him. It should be as sinful as it is when his deft, calloused fingers trace the numbers on the page; you can feel them running patterns over your skin, waiting until you’re begging for him to touch you where you need it most. His lips look so soft, kissable. You want them everywhere.
There’s a tightening in your core that has you digging your heels into the tiled flooring, your thighs pushing down against the wooden chair. God, it’s unfair. He’s trying his best to explain this to you, and you can’t stop thinking about how his hands would feel in between his legs.
“Does that make sense?” he asks, his head tilted to the side. Your mind helpfully supplies puppy dog. Shit. You’re supposed to be paying attention to math.
“Uh,” you say. “Yes?”
“Great,” he smiles, sounding genuinely excited for you to understand. He’s so sweet.
“Dave,” you start, a whine in your tone, “Can we take a break? It’s been forever since we started.”
“It’s been thirty minutes,” he says, a frown appearing between his brows. Instinctively, you reach out and smooth it down with your finger, red nail polish against his skin. Other than the flickering of his eyes, he doesn’t move.
It’s your chance. Slowly, like you’re trying not to scare him, your hand creeps around to cup his cheek. “Is this okay?” you ask him.
“Yes,” he breathes. If that wasn’t enough, he brings his own hand up to slide up your shoulder, holding your neck. “Is this?”
“You fucking kidding?” you say. “Fuck yes, Dave. Please.”
“What’re you asking me for, baby?” he murmurs. “What do you want?” Fucking hell. He can’t know how absolutely profane those words sound coming out of his mouth.
“Your fingers,” you answer immediately. The blush that finds its way to his cheeks is beautiful and so unbelievably hot. You want to see it over and over again.
“Yeah?” he asks, laugh in his voice. “You want me to make you feel good?”
Your enthusiastic nod is all it takes for him to grab your thigh, repositioning you so that you’re on his lap, your legs straddling his. It’s uncomfortable and the kitchen table is digging into the small of your back, but it feels right.
It feels even better when he runs his hands along your waist, his lips scattering marks on your collarbone. You’ll have bruises tomorrow, but you can’t seem to make yourself care. Based on the noises you’re making Dave can tell.
But it’s not enough. It’s so, so good but it’s not what you want. Apparently, you’re transparent because Dave has mercy. His hands, warm from their contact with your skin underneath your shirt, slide underneath the waistband of your shorts, putting pressure onto the bundle of nerves that makes you see goddamn stars. One finger, then two, stretch you open, a delicious burn that has your hips chasing more.
Your head falls forward to catch his lips in a kiss, and when that’s too much you rest it in the crook of his neck and listen to the little encouragements he whispers into you ear.
Doing so good for me, baby.
Just like that, honey.
If you were with anyone else, they wouldn’t be doing this. He’s taking his time, making you feel good. You’re shaking and sharing his breaths and it’s all too much-
And the dam inside you bursts with enough force to stop your breathing. Your eyes screw shut and his name is the only thing you can remember. You don’t know if you’re chanting it out loud, but you don’t care. Dave, Dave, Dave.
“My turn,” you breathe when you finally get your breath back, your knees hitting the floor before he can say another word. His legs are spread wide, opening inviting you. His hands rest uncertainly above your hair, which you quickly fix by bringing them to tangle in your locks.
Slipping his sweats down just enough, you leave kisses on the underside of his cock through his briefs, paying special attention to lick at the growing wet spot.
You know he’s impatient, but too still too sweet to do anything about it, so you push his underwear down enough for his cock to spring out, flushed a pretty, angry red.
Humming, you take his head in your mouth, bobbing your head before taking more of him, the salty taste of him on your tongue.
“Fuck,” he groans above you, his arm across his face. He’s breathing heavy already, his shirt plastered to his chest with sweat.
It doesn’t take long for him to come from your mouth; you know what you’re doing and he doesn’t seem to have any problem letting you know that. With your heel digging into your clothed cunt, you slide a finger along your folds, heat blooming underneath your touch as you listen to his noises. When you moan, your mouth full of him, his head tips back against the chair and his thighs flex.
“Shit, baby, I’m-” is all je manages to get out before he comes, filling your throat and dripping down your chin. His eyes flutter back in his head, and that’s all it takes for you to fall over the edge a second time with him, soaking your hand and the remaining integrity of your underwear.
“I’m sorry,” he says immediately when he gets his voice back, pulling you up on his lap. “I shouldn’t have-”
“It’s okay,” you assure him. “I wouldn’t have let you.”
“Yeah?” he asks, double checking your face for any signs of upset. When he doesn’t find any, an easy, bashful grin finds its way to his face. “Do you want a change of clothes?”
“Sure.” Suddenly, a thought occurs to you, horror flooding your mind. “Your dad isn’t home, right?”
“No,” he laughs. “He’s working. We have the house to ourselves.”
Your mind is slow with the aftermath of two orgasams, and your movements are slow and uncoordinated. You feel fuzzy and good; better than you’ve felt in a long time.
Maybe math tutoring isn’t so bad.
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pocketgalaxies · 14 days
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thinking about how losing fcg will be so so so devastating to the party but at the same time there is absolutely a part of imogen that is quietly, secretly, shamefully, undeniably so relieved that it wasn't laudna. because it could've been laudna, and it was almost laudna, and it was laudna, and thank god it wasn't laudna.
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novasintheroom · 15 days
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Vash has a secret: he’s always wanted to feed his future significant other.
Nothing weird, just – whenever he sees couples out and about, some of them will offer the other food, and he’ll watch, longingly, as they take a bite out of the person’s offered treat. No Man’s Land is tough, and people are tougher about sharing resources. He sees this act of sharing a bite to eat from one’s own plate as a way to look past selfish need and into true love.
He’s hesitant to try it with you, though, when you first start dating. You’ve made it clear you’re incredibly independent. Would you take an offering of eating off his fork as insulting? Gross? He swears he brushes his teeth…
Finally, he gets the gump to try it. One day while you’re walking through town and chatting, he just…shoves his donut in your face. Your nose boops into it, and you look up at him incredulously. “What?”
“Do you want a bite?”
You blink, a small, “Uh, sure,” coming out as you hold his hand steady and take a bite of the pastry. You let out a pleased hum, letting go and nodding up at him. “It’s good! I’ll have to get that next time.”
What you don’t know is a blush is creeping up his neck and into his hairline. That was…so cute. So…intimate? It went so much better than he thought it would. You continue your walk, Vash with a little skip in his step.
Now, he offers food whenever he can. Sometimes you turn him down, saying you’re too full or aren’t hungry, but most of the time you humor him into taking a bite. You aren’t fully aware of what this does to him, how it makes him feel, but he’s always so much happier after you do it that it’s hard to say no.
And when you finally offer something to him? He takes it as a sign that you’re both finally and fully in love. He takes your fork steady, making sure to savor the bite of burrito you had offered. Does it taste better coming off your plate? Absolutely. It tastes like love to him.
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keulixeutin · 2 years
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Lovelorn & Laughable
a/n: tried something more casual and shorter.
summary: it’s laughable that your friends think that bakugou, of all people, is dangerous to you. bakugou x gn!reader.
cw: fluff. established relationship. mentions of drunkenness and alcohol. mentions of friends being afraid that reader is in an abusive relationship (they're not).  gender neutral pronouns used.
wc: 986.
You’ve been dating Bakugou for eight months, and your relationship with the infamous explosive hero is a confusing case among your friends.
However, you don’t know how confused they are until Uraraka pulls you aside one day to ask if you’re okay—read: to ask if you’re safe.
You almost laugh in her face, but you’re able to keep it together in front of her honest expression.  It’s surprising how little they know, and it’s hilarious how wrong they are (which is wild to you, because aren’t they close with Midoriya who considers him one of his closest friends?).
It’s laughable that they think Bakugou, of all people, is dangerous to you.
Bakugou, who gives you his credit card three months into the relationship.
Bakugou, who changes his phone background weekly because he can’t decide on one favorite picture of you.
Bakugou, who searches for your hand to hold even in his sleep, who jerks awake whenever he feels you shift too far away in bed, whose frantic fingers search the sheets for you in his half-sleep.
That Bakugou.  Right.
Though you have enough self control to not laugh, you do let out a wicked snort.  You tell her to watch carefully next time you’re all together, and even when she tries to tell you that she has been, you shake your head and repeat it—watch carefully.
At the next group outing at a pop-up carnival, you arrive arm-in-arm with Ashido, Bakugou following close behind.  Midoriya’s the only one who eagerly greets your boyfriend, though you wouldn’t say the others give an unkind welcome.  You grin at the ones you know are worried—Asui, Iida, and Uraraka—though they don’t find this as funny as you do.
Watch close, you mouth to them.
And they do.
At first, they think you’ve got some mild form of Stockholm Syndrome; they think that you must be used to trauma and that you can’t tell your relationship is a bomb ready to go off.  All they can see are his scowls and shouts.  All they can see is the angry child who grew bigger, stronger, and more powerful than he was a decade ago, a man who must be utilizing all of his strength and anger to keep you trapped.
Watch, you tell them again when they try to pull at you for a quick intervention.
They’re still doubtful, but for you, they try again. 
This time, they see things—they see Bakugou, maybe not the way you do, but different than how they used to.
They see how his shoulders always touch yours when he’s seated, how he accompanies you to the food stall so he can pull his wallet out, how he always glances back to see where you’re at as you linger at each stand.  They see him scowl with cheeks colored pink as you fix his hair in the whipping wind.  They see him lean into your ear and whisper something that makes you laugh as he points to an ugly pig plush prize.  They seem him pull you away from the group and sneak off into the crowd when he thinks no one’s watching.
Still not fully convinced, they finally approach Ashido about your relationship, about whether or not you’re truly safe and loved.  She’s first taken aback because she thinks they’re making a dumb joke.  Then, when she sees that they’re genuinely concerned, she doubles over in laughter, cackling so hard and so loud that there are hot tears in her eyes and painful cramps in her stomach.  She gasps out in between giggling and snorting about how incredible it is that they could believe something so obviously impossible, ignoring their expressions of irritation and shame.
Well, Bakugou doesn’t drink around you guys, so that’d probably help, huh, she says when she’s finally calmed down, wiping at her eyes.  At their confusion, she explains that he’s needy when he’s drunk.  I’ll give you a sneak peek, she smiles conspiratorially.
Pulling out her phone, she opens up the folder created specifically for sentimental Bakugou photos.  Ashido shows them a picture of him passed out on the couch, face resting against your lap with a firm grip on your calf (This was last week when he was plastered after four drinks!), another of him with you up on his shoulders in the pool, fiery smirks on both your faces (They beat me and Denki in Chicken, ugh!), and finally, a picture of him kissing you around a corner, which was immediately followed by a blurry photo of Bakugou swinging at the camera  (I don’t remember this one, actually, but this happens pretty frequently!).
Perhaps they hadn’t been watching closely after all, they think.
Ashido shows them several more photos, each with Bakugou sappier than the last, and she ends it by cooing about how cute the both of you are.  She says she’s surprised that neither you nor Midoriya have shown them anything, and Midoriya stammers out something about privacy, and they mention that they hadn’t expressed their horror in full until recently.
Horror, Ashido repeats, and then it turns into another full-blown cackle in public.
When you and Bakugou make it back to the group, you take one look at your friends and grin, seemingly aware of their newfound understanding.  They look back at you, abashed, but you’re too preoccupied with your bag of souvenirs and the ugly pig plush in your arms to be mad about their misconceptions.  Anyways, the pig was bought, not won, and you’re excited to share the story with the others.  Bakugou is on his phone again, subtly leaning against you; when Uraraka passes by behind him, she sees that he’s not scrolling through his apps but deciding a new background photo, stuck between one of you throwing the camera a kiss or laughing in the sunlight.  She watches him pick one and then favorite the other one.
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thoughtkick · 4 days
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Sometimes a perfect memory can be ruined if put to words.
Nova Ren Suma, Imaginary Girls
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fortheharbingers · 8 months
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— devouring moon
minors do Not interact; imbibitor Lunae x gn!reader
contents & notes: handjob/fingering, hickeys and biting, established relationship & there was gonna b a sentence abt him usually calling u ‘his moon’ and you rmring of his title ‘moon devourer’ but eh guess it’ll only be in the title. For @snowbits >:3
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There are many things the Vidyadhara usually do not do that you and your boyfriend enjoy partaking in.
Going on picnics like mortals, or humans, for example; basking in the sun of Luofu, spreading all your weight on the grass— and on your boyfriend’s lap, letting your legs rest on his lap as his hands caress your skin.
Or enjoying every small moment, every bite of food like the humans do, as if this is your last life; a silly thought you are aware, but one that helps to live in the moment longer— just like now.
Or acts of intimacy, a proximity closer than whats accepted as appropriate, like now, as the fingers that caressed your legs a minute ago are now between them, rubbing in circles with added pressure— for Dan Feng knows your body, as he knows you, and how to draw out certain reactions from you.
Pressing at the right points, the serene moments under the sun have now turned giddy, as his fingers draw shapes and beginning to go up, up and deeper inside, trailing off lighter with each centimeter, you can feel his face draw in closer, his warm breath tickling your neck.
You suppose thats what you get for teasing him all day long then wearing a shorter garment with no underwear as cherry on top— the hunter becomes the prey; as it always goes with Dan Feng.
His touches getting more feather light as he trails higher, his fingers finally find the one place you’ve been dying for him to touch all day long.
You haven’t noticed how close he his face drew in your fervor until you hear him tsk at your sigh of relief.
“Always some sort of mischief with this one.” He whispers the words into your neck as his fingers set in motion again.
Not seeming to care whether anyone can see you or not, with his supporting hand he presses your body into his, making sure you wont escape and trailing slow kisses to your neck.
Moving down to your collarbone and leaving wet kisses here, making you shudder with each one, he only draws his hand away from your waist— and earning a grumble from you, tilt your chin up with his fingers and prompt your head the other way, preparing to dive in to the opposite side of your neck.
Kisses turn into sucking in your skin slowly and he can feel a wetness pool around his fingers. Drawing his hand to the surface, he rests them against your lips; and following his cue perfectly, you open your lips, sucking his fingers off, wetting every inch.
Pulling his fingers off with a ‘well done, darling’, he wasted no time going down again, now his motions faster and with more pressure, going up and down, stroking and massaging where you like it, drawing out your whimpers of his name, mewls of begging him for more, begging him to let you come— you can feel yourself grow hotter by the second, eyes hazy and barely open, only seeing his eyes fixated on your expression.
Each second he is not kissing you, he drinks in your expressions, then returns to your neck like a starving man, biting, nibbling your skin, even humming few times when you’re positive he has made a few capillaries break out and bleed.
As your body begins to shake with slight jolts , your legs do their best to close up, but no avail, your lover’s skillful hand remains there, going up and down, pushing all the right buttons, his other hand gripping your waist tight and occasionally rubbing circles.
Your eyes suddenly shutting close, you can feel yourself seeing his eyes and the stars; and watching you as you come, Dan Feng slows down his movements, guiding you through you orgasm.
Lying limp in his arms for few minutes, you refuse to meet his eyes, pretending to have dozed off; that is, until he makes an offer better than this little scheme you pulled off. “How about we call this picnic to a close and return home? I feel myself craving something other than strawberry cake and cream.”
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gotogull · 1 year
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*smokes a pencil* guh. done.
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[ Chapter 2:    Story Book ] —>
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nova--spark · 5 months
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TFP: TIMESKIP | RID15 AU
Set 3 Years Post Predacons Rising & 1 Month post RID15 Finale [A Personal Rewrite/AU Of the TFP Kids Post TFP/RID]
Jasper, Nevada has become a quiet place for Jack, Miko and Rafael after their final goodbye with team Prime, and with Ratchet, when word that the Medic was needed reached their comms.
For the next 3 years, it was relative radio silence. No news from Cybertron, though they tried to reach out. They sent so many transmissions to their friends, yet not a single one returned to them.
Almost as if something blocked them from them, like something didn't want them in contact.
So, in the absence of their friends, their robotic family they had loved so much, the trio of kids put their all into making them proud.
They spent every day they could at Hangar E, and every year, on the anniversary of their departure, they would visit the old Outpost Omega-1.
They would hold hope for their friends to reach out, someday.
They had to...right?
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Miko dove head first into combat training, thanks to some strings pulled by Agent Fowler. When she wasn't sparring on a mat with her teachers, she was in the hangar, cheered on by Raf and Jack as she learned to translate those moves into the Apex Armor.
After some convincing too, of her parents when she turned 18, and some more strings pulled by Fowler, Miko made the base her home, and lived in Jasper full time. She'd even had her cats brought over from Japan, a fact that made her stay in the hangar less lonely, though she'd spent many dinners at Raf and Jack's homes regardless.
She'd trained her abilities in battle to a fine tuned machine, hoping for the chance to make Bulkhead proud when he walked through the groundbridge someday. Even took to a video diary, to catch him up on everything that had happened since they'd left Earth.
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Rafael excelled in his studies to little surprise of many of the others in his presence. The young boy seemed to have matured overnight, and after a letter from Fowler to some colleagues in some colleges, Raf was skipped up a few grades, and was even taking some college courses online, to further his computing knowhow.
Taking up robotics as a hobby mostly, Rafael upkept the remaining Cybertronian tech left by their robotic team members. He remembered every lesson from Ratchet, and from the many times he also tried to help with Bee's voice box, so it was of little surprise to the team when Raf not only upkept but upgraded their base's tech. No better wifi could be found in Jasper, and access to every show they wanted was at their fingertips.
Still, Raf missed Bee, especially after seeing every transmission they sent go unanswered. His best friend had promised to visit, to write them back, call...had...he forgotten them?
He hoped not. Raf could never forget the scout, the one who'd help Raf find his own voice, among the chaos of his own home and family life.
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Jack changed the most and the least at the same time. He was still a gentle and quiet soul, but he was fiercely protective now, of Miko and Raf. He dove into his studies, and even skipped a grade, to the surprise of his mother. Studying under her even, Jack learned medical care for his loved ones behalf, especially with all the bruises Miko returned with after her sparring lessons. He joined, once in a while, when he had the energy to, but his energy had shifted to making sure both of his teammates were ok. For his 18th birthday, his mother surprised him with a real motorcycle of his own, after seeing how much he missed Arcee and their rides around Jasper. And Agent Fowler, who had begun dating June at this point, helped hook up Jack with a job alongside him, mainly harmless paperwork, but it would pay better than slinging burgers at KO Drive Inn did, which he appreciated.
His free time was often spent fixing up his bike, and riding out far, along the routes him and Arcee would take. He really hoped their messages would reach them someday.
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Added Notes
Takes place 1yr after the ending of RID15/it's finale
June and Fowler got married by the time Jack is 19, which Jack actually was happy about, even if it shocked him a good bit at the start that they did begin to date.
Rafael has been checking every cryptid sighting website he used to, searching for any hint that Team Prime has come back.
Knockout has been, unbeknownst to Cybertronians and humans alike, been sneaking to Earth via rogue groundbridge of his own. It was where he lost Breakdown, and he continues to race still there [Yes this is bc of RID's use of his car model]
The kids came into contact with the Rescue Bots at some point, and they too have had issues contacting Cybertron, something that they tried to work on together but it did little in the end.
The 'Autobot' High Council had put a ban on travel to Earth, and had erased the coordinates from most databanks, as well as disrupting transmission from the kids to team Prime.
Crown City is located California for this AU
Outpost Omega-1 has been abandoned yes,the kids mainly use Hangar E, but regularly visit the old base since it's destruction.
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charliemwrites · 2 months
Text
Part 10! of SpecGru reader. This is a little short, but I was so excited to post because NOVA.
Content: safe/sane/consensual sex - oral, female receiving
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Nova is your partner for the day – running drills as guest instructors for recruits, working them so hard they don’t have enough air to make any stupid, sexist remarks. The two of you spend all day flirting like a new lovesick couple, your hand drifting low on her back while she teases you with double entendres. Press her up against the wall outside the dining hall after lunch, licking the taste of apple off her lips while she tangles clever fingers in your hair.
Don’t care about who might be watching, or who cares. Not like your captain does. The opposite really, as he sidles up behind you while you’re spotting Nova in the gym. He slaps your ass so hard it damn near echoes, smirking at your scandalized face while she quickly reracks so that she can laugh.
“How are my girls doin’ today?” he chuckles.
“Right as rain, cap,” Nova answers, beaming when he cups her cheek.
“Can’t be anything but good with our star girl around,” you reply, winking at her. Bark a laugh when she smacks you in the thigh.
“Yeah?” he asks, a note of sincerity in his voice now. “Those shitheads leavin’ you alone?”
You blink, realize that there has been a distinct lack of 141 overtures today. No wonder you’re in such a good mood. An orgasm in the morning, your pretty, hyper-competent girlfriend all day, and no shitty former teammates? That’s practically a vacation lately.
“Do I have you to thank for that, sir?” you ask. Remember him saying something about talking to Price yesterday.
“You can thank me later,” he answers with a little smirk.
“Gladly, sir.” He’s getting more than that at this rate.
“Just wanted to check in on you two,” he continues, tweaking your nose, “and there’s an intel brief at 1600.”
“Yessir,” you and Nova reply together.
He chuckles again, gives you both one last fond look, then takes his leave.
“Finish up in here, shower, and get there a bit early?” Nova suggests.
You turn back to her, wipe a bit of sweat off her forehead with your forearm. She huffs in (only half fake) disgust and lays back on the bench again. She’s still got half a set to finish.
“Yeah, I want to steal Price’s usual seat,” you answer.
“You petty little tart,” she chuckles.
You lean your elbows on the bar and lean over her, arching your eyebrows playfully. “I’m your petty little tart.”
“Have always had a sweet tooth,” she muses.
You laugh and get off the bar so that she can continue. Of course, you’re keeping a close eye on her – but lord, she’s distracting. Thick thighs and solid abdomen, her tank-top is even sticking to the flexing muscles. And her arms. You’re not even being subtle, drinking in each deliberate rise and fall of the metal bar. Following droplets of sweat down her biceps…
“You mind?” she huffs, though not without amusement.
You jolt a bit, flushing as you help her rerack again. She sits up, a mischievous curl to her full lips.
“What’s got into you, huh?” she asks, tilting her head.
You shrug as you switch places, trip up a bit when you realize just how nice the view is. Even thoroughly sweaty, she smells a bit like coconut. Damn.
“Not you, unfortunately,” you reply absently.
She chuckles, tapping a finger against your forehead. “Tell ya what, love – you do five extra reps and we can make that happen.”
You’ve never flown through a workout so fast.
--
You damn near stumble into the shower stall, lips and tongue tangled with Nova’s. The flimsy curtain flutters haphazardly behind her as you reach blindly for the knob. Ice cold water drenches your back, but it does nothing to cool the desire blazing in your gut. Not when she’s peeling herself out of her compression pants, shimmying out of her damp shirt, and wriggling out of her sports bra.
Don’t even care about your own clothes, dropping to your knees in awe. She’s absolutely gorgeous, your girl. Pretty brown skin interrupted by pale patches like scattered clouds, meeting of earth and sky right there in front of you. Something divine about that, you think vaguely. She certainly looks the part, all strength and confidence, dark eyes smoldering like coals. Interrupted only by slashes of scar tissue and the SpecGru tattoo on her forearm.
You’ll never get tired of looking at her.
“C’mere, love,” you murmur, hooking your fingers behind her thigh and gently urging her closer.
She laughs a bit, though there’s a breathless edge to it that makes you perk up like a dog.
“You’re still dressed, daft thing.”
You shake your head. “That can wait.”
Despite your deal in the gym, there’s nothing you want more right now than to take care of her. Just leave her a shaky, whimpering mess, until your shirt is wet with her rather than water or sweat.
“Let me take care of you, baby?” you breathe, hands skimming up her soft thighs. You caress your thumb over her labia, licking your lips at the stickiness already gathered there. “Please, Nila.”
She shudders hard. You groan softly, trailing kisses over the bundle of tissue protecting her lower tummy. Can feel her twitching a bit from the ticklish sensation of your hair brushing her ribs.
“Y-your sure?” she asks. “I haven’t washed off yet…”
“Don’ care,” you mumble, scraping your teeth over the sharp cut of her hip. Tease eager fingertips over her leaking slit, playing in the trim curls. “I gotta taste you. Stay hydrated ‘n all that.”
She tries to scoff, but it’s overtaken by a wobbly moan when you suck a modest mark into her inner thigh. Keegan’s going to pout when he sees it; that’s his favorite spot to claim on all of you.
“Yeah, babes,” she gasps, “g-go ahead.”
It’s probably pathetic, how quickly you faceplant into her pussy. Can’t bring yourself to care when the taste of her bursts across your desperate tongue. A bit of salt, but all her, earthy. You lap at her with the flat of your tongue, starting at her dripping entrance and working slowly up until you curl the tip over her slippery, swollen clit. Again and again. Until all your thoughts whittle down to this, to her. To the helpless clench of her empty cunt and the involuntary buck of her hips. Nothing to calm your thoughts like taking care of your angel.
“Fuck, baby,” she moans, blunt nails scraping over your scalp.
Your eyes roll back as shivers chase down your spine, moaning into her cunt just to return the effect. Love how her head tips back, knees quaking. You scoot in a bit closer, hook her knee over your shoulder to offer some stability. Then focus your attention on that button of nerves, sucking it gently into your hot mouth.
“F-fingers,” she whimpers, “fingers too, love. Please.”
As if you could deny her anything ever. Circle worshipful fingers around her entrance, groaning lustfully when slick begins dripping down your wrist. God, she always gets to fucking wet. When she tilts her hips with a needy whine, you test one finger inside her, rubbing gently against her walls. But she keens, clearly wants more, so you stuff a second finger inside her, curling them as you flick your tongue over her clit.
“Fuck!” she cries. “Yeah, just like that. J-Just there, babe.”
And you’re useless to do anything but acquiesce, setting a steady rhythm that leaves her squirming on your mouth and hands. Feel like you could get off on the noises she’s making alone, your own pussy drenched and aching. But you can’t be bothered to spare a single thought or movement for yourself, hands and mind too full of Nila.
Your dedication is quickly rewarded by the telltale squeezing of her pussy, the increasing pitch and volume to her voice. Don’t dare change a single thing, as desperate for her to cum as she is. Could live forever between her thighs, just like this, listening to that voice break for you.
“Fuck, fuck, I’m… c-cum – fuck!”
You moan as she drenches your chin and neck, quick to support her weak legs so that she can ride out each and every wave of her ecstasy. Suckle at her sensitive clit and circle your fingers around her spongy g-spot until she’s shuddering, gently tugging at your hair. You pull away reluctantly; don’t want to overstimulate her (when she doesn’t want it) but pussy-drunk all the same.
Give her a second to catch her breath, dotting kisses like stars around your pretty Nova.
“That was perfect,” she coos, “come up here for a kiss? I miss you.”
You make sure she’s steady before standing, smiling, stupidly charmed. “I’m right here, sweetheart, nothing to miss.”
“Miss you anytime I’m not kissin’ you,” she replies dreamily, looping her arms around your neck.
You pepper kisses along her jaw until you reach her puffy, bitten lips. Tuts softly at their swollen state before she thoroughly distracts you by licking the taste of herself from your mouth.
“Spoil me,” she sighs against your lips.
“Not spoiling if you deserve it,” you reply, hugging her close.
She giggles brightly, tucking her face against your flushed neck. Stay like that for a moment, gently swaying. Then she nips gently at your collarbone.
“C’mon, let’s get you out of those clothes.”
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novalizinpeace · 3 months
Note
What do you think of Catnap and dogday ship?? (Sorry I'm curious) and what happened after dogday got trapped by catnap? Is like the game where he lose his legs?
you can see the answer to the last question in the last post of the christmas event, where is show that Nell is still alive, just without a leg and a arm
now, about the ship
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isn't the first time 'm in a fandom were the sun/moon parallel exist, and sometimes i hc them like siblings (like with the daycare attendant) and sometimes like lovers (like with Wukong and Mac). Now, I see them like sibling 'cause i relate them a lot with Celestia and Luna from MLP, but if you want to think about them as a couple, go for it! I'm nobody to tell you work to work a Hc.
But yeah, is you're hoping to see some of this ship in my draws/au, go look elsewhere, 'cause it not my cup of tea.
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novasdarling · 8 months
Note
Hii🌹can i ask "It’s so dangerous out there. Can’t you see that?"
with yandere Chrollo please? Thanks🌹
HEHEHEHE this motherfucker would. He's delusional in the scheme of him being like "Yeah my darling is better than me than anywhere else." but also he knows it's just a lie he makes so he doesn't feel too ad when you cry about being with him
Dangerous Out There
TW: Kidnapping, Yandere Behaviour, Mentions of death, Mentions of punishment
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The walls were plain and cold. Made of old cement bricks, leaving little room for any warmth or comfort. Any feelings sparking joy or tenderness were missing. Cold, bland, cruel. This jail cell represented the jailkeeper well. A void of happiness and delight was exactly what Chrollo was. Just this blackhole that took and took, destroying everything it touched and devoured.
However, no amount of sadness or begging changed his mind. Nothing let him declaw himself from you. No matter how much you begged these last few weeks, he refused to let go. Rather it seemed like your tears and pleas just made him dig deeper. Made him pull you closer to him, made him add more locks to the doors and windows. Like the more you begged and craved for freedom, the more he held onto you. The more he denied it. The more he felt like he needed to keep you locked away, keep you hidden. But you couldn't help the hope that pooled inside you. Hoping your begging would chip away at him. Make any sort of difference, cause him to feel any kind of remorse and let you go. A hope you would always hold onto.
Chrollo had made his way into the living room. Standing in the doorway, observing from behind as you watched one of the few movies he had provided when he first took you. You could recite it line by line.
"I know you're there."
"Your senses are getting better. Before you wouldn't have noticed me until you could see me."
Chrollo made his way forward, kneeling in front of you. Placing himself between your legs. It made your skin itch. You didn't give him an answer, even as he waited there. Starring up at you. You ignored him. Starring at the dumb movie in front of you. His hands squeezed your thighs.
"Most people say thank you after a compliment."
"Most people don't kidnap."
Chrollo laughed. Finding your response humorous. He always found your rebuttal funny and pleasant. Making it clear he enjoyed the bit of resistance you had. The wit that came with it. Your snappy remarks. It was fun for him, as long as you never went too far.
"Touché." Chrollo rubbed his knuckles over your cheek.
"Don't touch me."
Flinching away, you pushed him. Trying to create some distance from him. Trying to get the man you hated as far away as possible. He tried again, lifting his knuckles up to caress you, but you moved again. Denying him what he wanted twice.
"Enough."
He grabbed your arms. Trying to keep you still. Keeping himself between your legs and you caged.
"Let me go."
Chrollo held on. Dismissing your words as he wrestled you still.
"I want to go home."
Tears were forming in your eyes. You hated this, hated this man. Despised everything about all of this. How the hell did a charming stranger you bumped into one day turn into the man who was holding you captive? A man that killed and hurt people to get you. A man who had no boundaries.
"Let me go. I just want to go back. P-please. I won't tell anyone. I-I promise. I want to-"
"Stop it. Stop it now."
"Go to hell."
You lashed and kicked at him. Trying to get him away. Trying to make him let go. To understand just how much you hated him. How much you wanted him dead. That this wasn't home. That he wasn't what you wanted.
"I said stop it. Listen to me." Chrollo was raising his voice at you. Not yelling, but still enough to try to demand you listen to him. "Listen to me, just listen sweetheart." One hand now held both of your arms as the other made its way to hold your face still. Forcing you to look at him. "I'm trying to help you, my dear. Trying to keep you safe. It’s so dangerous out there. Can’t you see that? Can't you see understand?"
He sounded angry yet, worried. It was a lesson he was trying to push into your mind. Trying to teach you with him was better than elsewhere. Yet, even as his words sounded sincere. You couldn't help, but laugh at him. Laugh at his words. Dangerous? The danger out there? He was fucking deranged. Worse than you thought.
"Whatever is out there, sure as hell can't be worse than being here with you."
Leaning in, close to his face so he could hear your words. Understand what you were saying. Understanding you meant it. That you would rather be out there with whatever he was worried about than with the monster that was pretending to be your saviour.
The look on Chrollo's face had changed. Like he was hurt and angry. Disappointed by your words. You knew that look, you had hurt his little fantasy. Ruined the image of him being your little hero. The look that meant your behaviour needed to be "corrected". That your wit and back talk had crossed the line.
"Seems like you need some reminding why you're here."
"What, another couple of days locked in the closet? I'll take that if it means being away from you." You spat in his face with the last sentence. Showing him you were genuine.
"See, I was thinking something different." Chrollo grabbed your upper arm. Pulling you up and making you follow him. "If you think I'm such a monster, perhaps I should leave you alone with a colleague of mine. Someone who doesn't care about your safety. Someone who doesn't love you like I do. Remember Feitan?"
You had made the worse mistake since he had taken you. Not only had you been resistant to him, but you had made him the enemy. Not just in the scheme of kidnapping, but in the idea of being with him. You told him how you saw him. Now he was going to correct it. Make you see what is worse than him when there is no love to give.
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pocketgalaxies · 5 months
Text
fcg: i enjoy eating silver more than copper
imogen: i am genuinely scared to meet my mom again
chet: it is well known that wood is better than metal
laudna: deep down inside, both delilah and i kind of want the shard
laudna: i don't want [the shard], fearne should have it, but i don't know anymore what's my opinion or desires or feelings or [delilah's]
imogen: i love laudna deeply, but i'm disgusted at the thought of delilah looking at us all the time
orym: i'm super lonely all the time, especially at night. doesn't matter if i'm bunking with one of you guys
fcg: sometimes i pity some of you because you have beating hearts and opportunities and you don't do enough with them
fcg: chetney you have so much love to give and it doesn't seem like you're interested in anything, in ANYTHING, other than wood. there's people out there who you could love and experiences you could share with someone else, but all you care about is wood
orym: i've always laughed it off but i guess i do kinda wonder if chetney is my dad
ashton: i am the reason that the jiana hexum robbery went fucking wrong and the reason why i got thrown out of a fucking window
ashton: (laudna: is that why you feel like you deserved to have the nobodies leave you?) yeah.
fearne: i feel like we are very ill-equipped for this job and we're gonna fail at saving the world
chet: while wood may be the superior material to metal, i do fear that with the dwindling interest in it that children will find my toys and thereby myself obsolete every year that i grow older
fcg: i think it's something buried deep down in my circuitry, but every time i hurt or kill something, it feels really good. it makes me sorta relax a little bit and some of my stress goes away
imogen: i know we're supposed to save the gods but i've tried talking to them my whole life and none of them will ever respond. i think i'm tainted. i don't know if i want to save gods that don't love me
laudna: you know we could all ripcord out of this at any moment, and i don't mean this scavenger hunt, i mean saving the world, right? andsometimesifantasizeaboutitallthetime
fearne: sometimes i do stuff to you guys while you're sleeping. not weird stuff, i just like to look at you closely and...you know, just look at you. you look so content and comfortable and i can get up and look at you really well. and maybe twiddle your hair and like braid it. nothing bad! nothing bad!!
ashton: any time it's too quiet, i start worrying that one of us, most of us, are gonna end up killing another one of us accidentally. all of us. orym...very gently, but probably–orym may be the only one i worry about the least, but genuinely everybody else. i have panicked thinking about what happens when one of you kills another one of us
orym: (laudna: do you have any strong feelings one way or another kind of being the normal guy in a group of freaks who are all ticking time bombs? are you okay with that, do you have any strong feelings?) i have all the faith in the world in you guys, all of you. and i have also spent time thinking how to neutralize each of you
fcg: i kinda worry that i put all my eggs in the changebringer basket and she might betray us all, i had a really weird conversation with her and i think she's just out for herself and she might not really care about me
imogen: fearne, i was really disappointed in you for running away from your power, you should take the shard (laudna: you should take the shard)
orym: i really miss dorian, and sometimes i think that's okay and sometimes i think it isn't
pate: [laudna] is my creator, i don't have feelings, i'm a construction
ashton: i feel fucking worse that i just fucked up fearne's life way more than mine, and i should've died instead of that happening
chet: i grew up in the bramblewood outside of westruun, and when i was a kid, i came back from learning how to make toys and found that my whole family had left. all they left behind were toys. and they ran when errevon the rimelord was running across the plains so i'm kinda afraid of dragons. and i had five siblings, alabaster, pepper, sugarplum, hermey, and chad, and i was so mad that they left, i never looked for any of them. and now i'm pretty sure they're dead, so i think that any family i have is just gonna look for a reason to leave me, that's why i don't get attached to anybody
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novasintheroom · 4 months
Text
Can you imagine Knives finding out about you? You, who travels with his brother, and dare taint him with your presence? How dare you even consider yourself worthy to walk with Vash.
He watches you from a distance. Through Zazie. Through Legato. Through word of mouth as his fumbling little brother chases ghosts across the wastes. You trail him, feed Vash your lies, your pity. And what a pity his brother is, truly. But the white hot rage that blooms in him like a crackling flower takes place when he finds out you're an item. A pair. Lovers. He could tolerate your comradery with Vash, but only Knives can love his brother - humanity is too dirty with greed and pride to make room for love.
So Knives takes you.
He isn't sure why he doesn't kill you when his minions drag you kicking and screaming to JuLai. For all the racket you cause, he should have. More than a few henchmen come back with blackened eyes and missing teeth from trying to feed you. But something in him - the dark, twisted part that is so consuming - enjoys the idea of toying with you.
He wants you to see what you're messing with. Who he is, why Vash is so afraid of you being in his clutches. But there's also a part of him, small and never acknowledged, that wonders what draws his brother to you, out of all the millions of humans that have been and are on the planet - why you?
You become something of a pet to him. A metaphorical chain and leash to your neck, as he strings you along with promises of more freedom if you behave. You follow him around, rather than his brother. Watch as he brings in more and more dying Plants and revive them through his own DNA. And you ask questions. Lots of them. Knives finds he enjoys answering them, unintelligent and mindnumbing as they are.
He would never admit to enjoying your company. But he plays the piano for you. Watches you watch him. The intelligence in your eyes he will never acknowledge. Slowly, he comes to understand why Vash keeps you around. The way you walk. The lilt in your voice as you ponder his grand plan. How your lips move. And the first time you smile at him - genuinely? - he makes a hasty exit as his heart beats faster and his face flushes. He tries to get you to smile more often, but it is hard - you are still only a pet, after all.
Eventually, you make an escape. The perfect timing, the perfect moves, everything. And Knives finds himself going near mental at your disappearance. You cannot go back to his brother - you just can't. You are his now, his pet, his human. But despite his best efforts, you are gone like the wind. Not even tracking his brother brings up anything. You learned your lesson, and are not putting Vash in any danger...for now.
But Knives knows humans. And you will return to Vash in time. And when you do, he'll be ready to take you again.
You belong to him, after all.
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