#i feel like this is a common occurrence with slash | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

moonpedri · 10 months

Text

always.

summary: kylian takes you on a special date on a helicopter to let you see the eiffel tower for the first time

pairing: kylian mbappe x reader

genre: fluff

warnings: kylian is an absolute dream, beware of suffering from absolute delusions after this

word count: 1.8k+

a/n: this was definitely not inspired by the helicopter scene in figty shades of grey 😃 and i definitely never wanted to recreate this scene with someone😃 and this is definitely not for pure self-indulgment😃 and i definitely did not listen to "love me like you do" on repeat while writing this😃

anyways lol, i hope you enjoy reading as much as i did writing!!🤍

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You are in the middle of organizing the last shelf, when your manager approaches you with an unreadable expression. "__, this looks perfect. You're done for tonight."

You turn to her in confusion, "It's fine, I just have this one last shelf left-"

"I said you're dismissed for tonight, __. Enjoy the rest of your evening."

With a final look she leaves, but not before giving you a little wink. This is not a common occurrence; in fact you usually stay longer than you should. And judging from the underlying look in her eyes, you are far from done tonight.

This must be Kylian's doing again, you think. And the thought of him alone makes you feel giddy.

Your co-worker slash best friend joins you with a mischievous smile on her lips. "Stop looking at me like that.", you say.

"Aw, come on. Are you going to say this to your boyfriend too when he looks at you like that later.", Noémie says and cocks one brow up while pursing her lips. She looks absolutely ridiculous.

You shove her away, "How many times do I have to tell you that he's not my boyfriend."

She walks down the aile to the changing rooms with you, "Yet. He isn't your boyfriend yet. And when he is," she sighs blissfully, "I'll have a rich best friend and date one of his rich little friends so we can have those rich little brunches those snobby women in Paris have all the time."

"Noémie! You know that's not the reason why I like him. I don't care for his money, I never did."

Noémie smiles at you softly, "I know I know, I'm just kidding." She's silent for a second, before she breaks out in laughter, "Well, not really. But the moment he says something mean or treats you bad, god have mercy on his parisian ass."

This time you laugh as well, "I'll make sure to let him know."

She gasps, "Don't you dare. I can't leave a bad impression on my future brother-in-law."

You groan again, yet you can't deny that the thought of him being wedded to you doesn't make your stomach erupt in butterflies. "Noémie, you're so stupid."

She smiles warmly, as she watches you wear your leather jacket, "Have fun baby."

"Thank you.", you hug her tightly and leave the drug store with a shiver feeling. When you go outside a tall man, dressed in black, is already waiting for you, "Hey. Hugo, right?"

He nods curtly, "Good evening, Madam __. Monsieur Mbappé will be joining us there."

You smile gratefully, when Hugo opens the car door for you and you cautiously step in. The SUV is spacious, the windows are darkened. You can barely see anything outside.

You relax against the soft seat a little bit, while Hugo turns on the engine. Tonight is only your third date with Kylian. And you couldn't be any more nervous, because this time he didn't tell you what you were doing. A surprise, he said. Still, you're scared of being too underdressed or unprepared.

But this is Kylian; you shouldn't be too worried.

You met the french football player when he stumbled into your workplace one night. The little drug store that you work in was located in a small suburb in Lille. It isn't a well-known place, so you were surprised that such a huge personality like Kylian visited.

He was there for a match against Lille and was in search for something for his mother you think. You don't quite remember what it was, but what you clearly remember was his stressed face when you almost closed the door on him.

The store was about to close, and you almost started arguing with him but you felt bad seeing his distraught appearance and just let him in.

Safe to say your manager gave you in earful right there and then, but since it was France's superstar Kylian Mbappé, she let it go.

You waited at the door for him with the store's key in your hand. "Thank you again. Let me repay you with coffee or something."

"Sure.", you simply answered. Honestly you didn't even really hear what he said to you, too caught up with the fact that the Kylian Mbappé was in front of you, as well as your own tiredness.

He smiled and left.

You thought that settled it and you would never hear of the man again. So imagine your surprise when your shift ended 10 minutes later and he stood right there in front of you, leaning casually against the hood of his black car.

"Did- Did you forget something?", you ask. Nervously, you fiddled with the straps of your handbag.

"Yeah."

You purse your lips, "Oh. Well, I'm sorry the store is closed now and I can't let you-"

He laughs, "I meant your number. I owe you coffee, no?"

"Ah, no it's fine. You don't have to." To say you were completely flustered would be an understatement, and you really didn't want to know how shy you probably appeared.

"I insist."

So you met for coffee. But suddenly he invited you to one of his matches one day too, and then you even went to a luxurious steak house afterwards.

The night ended with a heated kiss in his car, leaving you sleepless for the coming days. Slowly, you started developing feelings for Kylian.

He's romantic and attentive. Despite the huge gap in your lifestyles, you never felt more comfortable with someone. You two just clicked, even though everything is still so fresh and new to you.

Daily text messages and calls gave you the illusion of knowing him for an eternity already.

The car comes to a halt in front of a huge building. Hugo opens the door for you, and once you step out, you're greeted by the chilly night air. You recognize your surroundings to be in the more wealthier part of the city - somewhere you have been only a handful of times.

After the two of you two step into the elevator, Hugo clicks on the highest button. He stands in front you, his back turned to you as well. While watching him, you genuinely wonder what Kylian could have possibly planned - especially on a rooftop.

The elevator doors open with ding! and the moment they do, you're breathless.

There stands Kylian, dressed in casual slacks, a white tee and black jacket in front of a helicopter. A fucking helicopter. His initials appear big on the side of it.

The sight may have left you breathless, but Kylian's smile, while you walk towards him actually robs you off all the oxygen in your lungs. You feel shy under the gaze of his pretty eyes. "Good evening, mon bijoux.", he says and presses a kiss to your hand.

He began using the nickname only recently via text or calls, but this is the first time he actually calls you "my jewelry" in person. You like it maybe a little too much. It makes you feel special - something never quite experienced in your life before.

"Kylian...what is this?", you say, eyeing the huge vehicle behind him.

He smiles and opens the door for you, like the true gentleman he is, "Our date tonight."

You figured already but it still seems a bit surreal to you, especially when you sit inside. Kylian joins you a few seconds later on the driver's seat.

It only dawns on you then, "Wait. Ky, you're flying this?"

He smirks and puts the headset on in response, "Yes."

"So, you have a license for flying a helicopter...", you begin and subsequently fail to contain your laughter, "but no driver's license?"

He laughs as well, a bit more sheepish though, "Life works in funny ways, doesn't it?"

You squeeze his hand, trying to reassure him in some way. You wanted to say something to him, but a light suddenly blinks up on the screen, distracting him.

Suddenly Kylian leans over to you. He reaches behind you, his face so close you can see your own reflection in his eyes.

He begins clamping down the multiple seatbelts for you. Once he's done, he fastens the belt up really strong and an audible gasp leaves your mouth, when it gets especially tight around your lower area.

"No escaping now.", he says in a low voice.

You never planned on leaving anyways, you're sure you would follow him anywhere.

Kylian fastens his own seatbelts and hands you over a headset, next to his own. "September 1-1-3-7. Michelangelo. Ready to depart."

You look at him, while adjusting your headset. "Roger that, Michelangelo. Your flight plan from Lille to Paris is cleared.", someone says through the comms and you stare at Kylian in shock, unable to hide your excitement.

"Paris? That's where we're going?

His emotions match your own, "Yeah."

The heli takes off and you can barely contain your squeal. Kylian doesn't even need to say anything when you reach the capital city after 20 minutes, the difference is as clear as black and white. The view from above at night is prettier than anything you have seen before. City lights shine bright in the darkness of the night, cars still hustle around even though it's far after midnight.

You see the Champs-Élysées, the Arc de Triomphe as you fly over river Seine. It's a tragedy really, that you haven't seen any of the many sights in person - or even been to Paris. But you wouldn't change anything in the world for seeing them for the first time like this.

The Eiffel Tower was by far its most famous monument. And nothing could have prepared you for seeing it from above, when the entire tower begins to sparkle.

"Kylian.", you gasp, "It's so pretty."

He hums in agreement next to you. You lean forward to get a better look at it.

"Do you like it?"

You turn to him, the sparkles for sure reflecting in your own eyes by now, "I love it. Thank you so much."

You can feel tears collecting in your eyes. It's crazy to think how fast your life changed in a span of maybe two weeks.

He presses a kiss to your knuckles, then to your wrist and finally intertwines your fingers with his. It's as if they were smithen and polished to fit into one another perfectly. Like a puzzle and its missing piece - finally complete.

"You're amazing, Ky. This means a lot. You mean a lot.", you feel yourself shake a bit. There's weight to your words and you feel scared.

His hand squeezes yours, he's got you. "You to me too."

And he knows in that moment that this is just the beginning of your journey together. That you will follow him anywhere and that he will too. He'll stand by your side, always, and care for you, just like you did when he stumbled helplessly into the small drug store in Lille.

────────────

#kylian x reader #mbappe x reader #kylian fanfic #mbappe fanfic #football x reader #kylian imagines #mbappe imagines #football imagine #football fanfic

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telleroftime · 11 months

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Brainwave for you.

Do you think Bowser would pick his partner up by the back of their shirt with his teeth like how some animals pick their kids up to carry them around?

Like, the family is on a walk and Bowser's paws are full with the Koopalings so he just has to snatch his partner up like that. Or his partner is in danger and it's the quickest way to grab them. Or even literally just carrying them like that because he can.

Absolutely! I already picture him doing characteristically feline things, like that annoyed tap of the tail cats do the more you poke them, so picturing him carrying his partner like that makes me really happy.

I feel like he'd have clothes commissioned for them to specifically allow for that. Because when you think about it, most clothes wouldn't. Either they'd be pulled too tightly or they'd rip, especially when you take Bowser's fangs into account. So just imagine suddenly getting a lot of new clothes and they all have excess fabric on them, or the back is made of a thicker material.

It'd be suspicious all until the first time he picks them up.

And then it just becomes a common occurrence.

Bowser picking them up with his teeth to then place them in his hands, or Bowser is already holding his partner but needs to do something so he casually holds them with his teeth.

I feel like he'd be thrilled that they let him do that too. In the end, they're very, very close to his fangs and they have their back turned to him. He'd be honoured that they trust him enough to let him do that. And imagine them tapping his nose to tell him they want to be put down.

Also, with the whole "his partner is in danger" - that is perfect. Because imagine Bowser needs his hands, his partner can't do anything with whatever is going on, so Bowser on impulse grabs them with his teeth. He doesn't even think about it. He just does it. Maybe he needs to climb out of somewhere. Maybe he needs to slash at something. He can't do that and hold them with his hands so he goes for the best alternative.

And just imagine enemies to lovers of that scenario.

And with my friend's little pipe in:

Bowser: "Get over here." Reader: "Or what?" Bowser, grumbling to himself: "Get 'ere." *Proceeds to pick Reader up with his teeth*

#bowser x reader #bowser headcanons #bowser #super mario bowser #redaskeded #toonce responses

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cherr-22 · 6 months

Text

TNGDH 28

“Goblins! Stay away from the cliffs to avoid the falling rocks!”

Before we knew it, we were surrounded by a horde of demonic beasts.

They hid themselves behind boulders, up in the tree branches, and in the crevices of the cliffs, sneering eerily. Even at first glance, they were high in numbers.

The knights muttered in agitated voices.

“There seems to be a lot of them?”

“There are and it’s strange……. They aren’t the type to come this close or threaten us with no reason.”

“Is this not a common occurrence, Knight Commander?”

I nervously inspected my surroundings.

Dozens of goblins were crouching down as if they were about to jump out at any moment.

Goblin.

The small, deep blue skinned demonic beast sniffed into the air with its hooked nose. Its pitch black eyes resembled a devil’s.

‘I’ve only seen them in movies and novels, and never thought I would see one personally…….’

[(⊙﹏⊙);;;!]

This isn’t the time to be staying still, shaking. We have to overcome this some way or another.

The knights began to gather in a new formation. They surrounded the non-combatants in order to protect them.

“Cover the researchers! Stick closer to each other!”

“You there! You’ll get hit by the arrows standing there. Go back further!”

“……Yes!”

“Those who are afraid get out of the way!”

The battle began without any signals. The knights drew their swords, and the goblins charged as they roared.

Everywhere was the sound of blades clashing, the cries of the beasts, and the rise of the dust from the battle.

In the midst of the commotion, I looked at Kyle’s back.

[Kyle did the work of ten, no twenty knights alone. A single swing of his sword sprayed the black blood of the goblin like rain all over him, and bodies piled up around him so he had no room to take even a single step forward.]

It was exactly as the novel described. It could not describe the scene any simpler.

Kyle moved as if he was doing a slow dance. His body sometimes flew into the air as if defying gravity, sometimes lightly spun around against a cliff, and in other times stood firmly in place and horizontally slashed with his sword.

The sense of reality disappeared as if it were a painting or a movie.

It was incredible. He had the atmosphere of a completely different person.

A strange feeling also arose. How did such a strong man die at Serena’s hands. Nobody should’ve been able to kill him.

[With only a single sword in hand, he conquered the North with his indomitable fighting spirit and overwhelming strength. He named the barren wasteland ‘Blake’ and created a home for those who lost their homes to the demonic beasts.]

Kyle’s deeds and accomplishments were so many that they were difficult to explain in just a few lines. That strong back that withstood all hardships and struggles seemed unlikely to collapse.

The goblins’ attack was resolved sooner than expected. A few researchers looted from the corpses into a sack, and the knights got back on their horses.

Then, the canyon was quiet once more. The people felt relieved by the silence and began to exchange a few words amongst themselves again.

It was only me who felt anxious about the silence.

‘……This doesn’t seem right.’

Following the contents of <Winter’s Heart>, Kyle’s injury was caused not by an attack by demonic beasts, but a group of unknown soldiers hiding in the region.

‘……Then is the real attack after this? When will it be?’

There are limits to a person vaguely recalling the original plot. Please tell me so that I could know more precisely about what happened.

[(ㅠ×ㅠ )=( ㅠ×ㅠ)]

It seems telling the story also had its limits.

Among the things the system mentioned the other day, there was one particular message regarding this. Mentioning the story in detail could tradeoff with the conditions for receiving compensation, making them more difficult to achieve. Whatever the case, it seemed to be a balance issue.

Alright, alright. I just have to be careful.

“Please be careful.”

I said to Kyle who got back on his horse. He questioned while brushing off the blood and dust from the hem of his clothes.

“If you’re talking about the goblins, they have all been eradicated.”

“Not the goblins. What can be truly scary are people, right?”

Someone who killed you, who could withstand thousands of demonic beasts at once.

He pressed his index finger between my brows.

“Okay.”

“…….”

“I said I will be careful.”

Push. He pressed between my brows again. Only then did I realize I was frowning and relaxed my expression a little.

Right. Since I’m here, it should be fine.

‘It should be fine.’

No, it will be fine.

And then three hours passed.

In that time, I bought and ate three acorn cookies. After the third one, Kyle couldn’t help but ask if I was eating some hidden acorns or something.

……Well, it was something similar. How quick-witted..

[Current Miracle Value 22.0%]

After circling around where we met the goblins and climbed up the canyon, we got off our horses to start walking. The road was steep and could easily lead to an accident if the horse got startled or lost its footing.

“Shall we go back now?”

“Yes, Your Highness. The new knights must’ve learned a lot through this expedition. Let us return before the sun sets.”

Among all that was said today, this was the most welcoming to the ears. Yes, let’s go home now. I checked the time anxiously.

[‘Summon’ will be canceled in 30 minutes.]

Since there was the time required to go back, I assumed I would have to eat one or two more cookies. After arriving at a safe place, I should say that I have some business and head to a place where there are few people. As long as I hide my clothes well, it should be fine.

There was still no attack on Kyle. Although we encountered a few demonic beasts like a separated mutant wyvern or a bear, they were quickly disposed of.

My relationship with the other people improved particularly after I informed them that the thorns on the left wing of the mutant wyvern were poisonous as written in the ‘Encyclopedia of Demonic Beasts’.

‘More importantly, it’s about time for the attack to come.’

……Or will it not happen at all? But it’s not like anything changed greatly from the original plot? Did I change anything in particular…….?

‘The chandelier.’

Belial did not get hit by the chandelier. That is why the relationship between the two are not too bad.

Which is why Belial has no reason to kill Kyle at the moment. As Kyle mentioned before, Belial disliked Kyle but there was no need to get rid of him.

‘So, his life expectancy has increased?’

I looked at Kyle expectantly.

[Kyle Jane Meinhardt. Approximately 15 days left from the expected time of death.]

As always, he had little time left.

‘There is no attack, so why…….’

Thud.

The ground shook with the sound and the horses cried anxiously. The knights drew their swords once again and took their stance.

[o((⊙﹏⊙))o!]

[□ □□ □□ occurred! The crack □□ □□ □□□□□]

[Irregular anomaly]

[Danger]

As if it were natural, Kyle stepped in front of me with his raised sword. The four system windows that popped up sent a chill down by spine.

“That…… what is that?”

“This, what…….”

The faces of the knights turned pale and they retreated back hesitantly.

It was a demonic beast that had never been seen in the North before.

The beast had a massive horn and resembled a goat or a sheep. It had an abnormally long snout and was covered in fur, but firmly gripped the ground with its sharp claws.

It made a thunderous roar and stood on its two legs.

“……I-I’ve never seen something like that before.”

“It’s not something from the North…….”

I was surprised but for a different reason from the knights.

“This is crazy.”

Why is that here?

There was no way I wouldn’t know. It was something that shouldn’t be in the North. It was a beast that lived deep in the forest, drinking from swamps, and was known to bring disaster to its surrounding area due to its warlike nature.

The swamp goat.

People called it that.

Well, my work colleagues in my previous life did…….

‘Hey, system. Mind explaining what’s going on? Why is a monster from the game I developed coming out here!’

[Confusion]

[Temporarily reducing the ability to intervene in the world.]

[If further intervened □ the power of □□]

The system blinked for a moment and disappeared.

Just where exactly did it disappear to?

I was completely dumbfounded. I think that those blanks in the system words referred to ‘swamp goat’. Could this possibly be the price of me using the system to interfere with this world?

I clicked my tongue and put back the Demonic Beast Encyclopedia back into my inventory. This beast wasn’t from this world anyway, so the book wouldn’t be of any use.

However, I had information in my head.

“It doesn’t matter if you don’t know what it is.”

Kyle extended his sword in front of him. I couldn’t see his face, but I knew it was a face of resolve.

No matter if it was an unknown beast or if it was stronger than any monster he encountered so far, Kyle would never hesitate to stand in front of it.

Kyle did not back down. If he did, it meant that he would be giving up on this land.

“All troops, step back!”

The two then clashed. Kyle jumped up and swung his sword with both hands.

He swung at the demonic beast as if he were trying to cut through both the heaven and earth. Bang. A noise louder than a falling boulder hitting the ground was heard and dust flew everywhere.

“……No way.”

Black blood dripped from the cut on the beast, but it disappeared and grew a new arm.

The enraged swamp goat raised its upper body and swung its arms wildly. A strong wind rose as sharp claws cut through the tree as if it were paper.

While the knights clicked their tongue, Kyle did not look surprised. He silently adjusted his sword in his hands and charged again.

The red sword flew diagonally, leaving a scar on the back of the beast’s neck. Kyle flew over the beast and landed on the other side.

The swamp goat stretched its arm back and tried to grab Kyle. While it its round eyes were clearly looking towards this way, it acted as if it could see behind it too.

“……eye!”

I remembered and shouted.

“Your Highness! Its eyes! Please stab its forehead! The bulging area a bit above the eyebrows!”

The swamp goat had three eyes. The magical eye hidden in the forehead could see beyond what was normally seen, so the goat was a difficult opponent that had no blind spots in its vision.

“Shoot the arrows!”

One of the sharpshooters of the Blake’s knights shouted. The knight who aimed with his breath held still, pierced right into the beast’s forehead.

A sharp cry shook the canyon. It swung its arm in this direction as it went berserk.

“Your opponent is me.”

Before I could realize what was happening, Kyle jumped in front of me and cut off its outstretched arm. Black blood flowed onto the ground. If only it didn’t smell so bad would I have felt relieved at Kyle’s appearance.

The arm recovered just like before. However, at that moment, I saw a small sparkle on its shoulder.

“The shoulder!”

“What did you say?”

I ran closer to Kyle and grabbed his chin to turn it slightly to the right.

“Please look over there. A little further to the left on the side where blood is spilling. There is a very small, glowing green dot above it. If you look closely, it will have the shape of a fish scale. ”

“…….”

“Do you see it?”

That scale was actually a special item that could only be broken under certain conditions. It was an expensive item that could be used to make weapons and shields.

The department meetings decided that it would be fun to implement such a feature for the gamers, and the developers suffered to make it into the game.

To think I’d be using this kind of information of my past here…….

“You must use your magic power to destroy it. Are you able to use weapons such as spears?”

Kyle let out a low chuckle. It was a voice mixed with admiration towards me and his competitive spirit.

“As if there are any weapons I cannot wield.”

He borrowed a spear from a nearby knight and inserted his magic into it.

The tip of the spear turned bright red and then turned redder and redder until it turned black.

The spear was thrown and flew through the air like an arrow, grazing the swamp goat’s shoulder. It screamed as if it was effective.

Unfortunately, the spear could not go reach the scale in one shot. Kyle didn’t give up, however. On the contrary, he rushed forward even more fiercely. If he were swept across his feet and sent back flying, he stood back up, and if his back was hit by a boulder, he let out a cough and raised his sword once more.

Kyle Jane Meinhardt swung his sword. He threw his shield. When his cloak became heavy with blood, he tossed it away and continued to stand ground, fly, land again, roll on the floor……

It wasn’t anything spectacular or cool like how I had imagined when I read it in the novel.

All he was doing was throwing himself in struggle to survive. It was a desperate, bloody battle in which he risked everything he had.

Seeing such earnestness and dedication, I could not say anything. He, who spent his entire life living like that, seemed so dazzling and heroic.

“Kyle.”

[Interfering now is dangerous,]

I ignored the system and opened the shop.

It has to be right now. I just knew instinctively.

[Panting Almond Financier ｜Miracle Points 3% consumption｜Increases running speed.]

You can’t change what has already happened, but you can change what hasn’t happened yet. And that is what I was brought here to this world for.

However, fate is like inertia. It may initially seem as if a change has effected the future, but fate will always try to go back to the original flow it had set for itself.

Like right now.

“Ha, seriously…… I’m making a tough decision to use up 3 percent for you.”

The 3 percent Miracle Points obtained from the hidden quest, ‘Collective Destiny’. I have no regrets giving back the points I obtained as a price for walking into your life to share your fate.

I stuffed the financier into my mouth and roughly chewed it before swallowing. The sensation of the lumps of flour scratching my throat was unpleasant.

There was no time to soothe my throat. I ran to him in an instant.

The swamp goat was crouching down with one arm cut off and lunged at Kyle, who was driven to the edge of a cliff. It seemed like it were planning to send him flying off the cliff.

I would never let that happen.

I quickly intercepted the goat. The rushing goat lost its sense of direction and fell down the cliff.

We couldn’t avoid the impact and was sent rolling on the floor. Kyle reflexively tried to cover me, but he missed as I slipped on the ground.

Then, my body fell off the cliff, just barely hanging onto the cliff.

“Shu!”

Kyle quickly stretched out his right hand and grabbed my wrist. His hand was damp from the blood from his injuries.

“Don’t worry. It won’t be long before I pull you up.”

The sound of knights approaching behind Kyle was heard. At the same time, the cliff he and I were on started to shake violently.

“Don’t come any closer!”

Kyle shouted to the back. It seemed that the ground grew weak due to the effects of the battle.

‘I’m really put on the edge.’

I breathed in and turned to him.

It wasn’t easy to pull up a hanging person. And it went without saying when Kyle was injured. Still, the injury must not be too bad considering how long he had been holding me this long.

What a relief. He won’t be dying a helpless death at the very least.

“I’ll be alright so please let go.”

“Don’t say ridiculous things like that.”

“Be stubborn and both of us will die here.”

I could survive. All I had to do was cancel ‘Summon’ mid-fall.

However, that was not the same for Kyle. There was no way to save Kyle once he fell. I thought about using items, but using them in front of him with no prior explanation was not a good idea. It would take up a lot of Miracle Points too.

While I was busy calculating what would be the best choice, Kyle’s arm started to shake. It seemed he had no intention of letting me go first.

I spoke in a friendly tone of voice, as if I were greeting him on a typical day.

“I’ll return, so don’t worry about it.”

“……How?”

“With the power of miracles.”

I smiled confidently and counted to three in my head. The moment Kyle began to open his mouth to speak, I let go of his hand.

My body fell down. As I watched him grow smaller and smaller, I eventually stopped smiling.

Kyle watched me fall without even retracting his outstretched hand. His pale face made my heart sink down to my stomach.

Snow began to fall from the sky one by one.

A fog obscured my vision and a pure, white light enveloped my body.

[‘Summon’ will be canceled!]

Don’t make that kind of face, Kyle.

I will return.

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#tngdh

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koogl001 · 1 year

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Hi, can you do Alastor with a small s/o, that's like, an expert at martial arts, please? It's okay if not, I hope 2023 is good for you!

One-Shots and Headcanons Masterlist

Due to your size and the fact Hell was a dangerous place, with no special powers you had to turn to martial arts

And thanks to your smallness, Judo was the ideal fighting style, as you use your opponent’s size against them

You soon found you were a natural and honed your skills to perfection within a few years, becoming somewhat of a Judo champion

As Alastor was strolling through Pentagram city, he spotted a commotion on the sidewalk

Paying it no mind as fights were a daily occurrence, he walked by

Upon hearing your voice, his focus shifted to you, mid-fight

Your opponent was more than three times your size and you seemed to not have much power, yet you had the upper hand

Now that was something intriguing

Summoning his shadows and slaying the barbarous beast that tried to rob and kill you he approached your panting form

“Hey, I had that covered!”

You fumed at the deer demon, not really being familiar with who he was as you weren’t big on politics and such

“Oh, but as someone who likes to think of themselves as a gentleman, it was only fitting for me to save the damsel in distress!”

He offered you his hand for a handshake, enthusiastically introducing himself

Since the two of you had the same destination in mind, you walked alongside each other with idle chit chat going back and forth

Since Alastor was unfamiliar with your fighting style, you explained the basics to him in exchange for information about his mysterious power to manipulate shadows

You both became occupants of the formerly Happy (now Hazbin) Hotel and found you quite enjoyed each other’s company and soon, started developing feelings for each other

Alastor quickly became overprotective over you, and he stuck to your side 24/7

He forbid you from not only fighting, but also practicing your Judo skills

After all, during his time alive it was common sense to protect your woman and provide for her

Not to mention with his tremendous power, all he had to do was flick his fingers for any opponent to die on the spot, so it wasn’t like it was much trouble to him

But to you, Judo was something that reassured you, that made you feel like you had power over your own faith here in Hell

So you practiced in secret, when Alastor went to sleep of when he was discussing business matters with Charlie, with Angel Dust as your opponent

He was a mafia member in his life after all, so he knew how to kick ass

During one of your fights, you accidentally acquired a slash on your cheek and boy oh boy was Alastor furious when he saw you injured

Furious and disappointed

But not in you, in himself

He saw your injury as proof that he wasn’t able to protect you, and it ate him alive on the inside

He restricted you to your room only as punishment, secretly loving the fact he could now have you only to himself and have you completely dependent on him

And with all of his rage reflected in his eyes, you could only guess what happened to Alger wasn’t pretty and hopefully not fatal

“Can’t have you getting injured after all, my little fighter~”

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everydayyoulovemeless · 10 months

Text

World On Fire ↠ MacCready x Reader

➼ Word Count » 0.7k ➼ Warnings » None ➼ Summary » Sole takes MacCready to the roof of a building to watch the sunrise.

“Hey uh, why’er we all the way up here again?” Mac asked as the two of you neared the top of the faded city building.

You shrugged, glancing back at the sniper, “Just wanted to see the Commonwealth from higher up, I guess.”

The dark Boston sky swallowed most things into its deep ink-colored void, although nowadays you could spot a few more stars starting to peek out from behind the dreaded curtains from the years of declining light pollution. Most of the scavers here would disagree with the idea that the Commonwealth was just as beautiful as it was before the war, but there was something so sorrowfully charming about the collapsed city that still somehow managed to stand before you.

"Are you sure it's safe being this high? I think I feel the floors swaying."

"Stop moaning, we're not even that high up yet." You retorted playfully, slowing to walk beside your companion.

"I'm just saying, maybe there's a reason we haven't found anything hostile yet." He spoke, gripping his rifle in his hands in case anything decided to jump out at the two of you as you went.

You were desperate to keep him in step behind you, however, he was right, the stairs threatened to cave inward at every step either of you took and the walls almost didn't exist. There was hardly anything holding this building up, but you didn't want that to stop you. Glancing up through the holes in the floors above you, you could spot a glimpse of the moon. Its pale features shone down through the cracks of the crumbling tower, beckoning both of you upward, and who were you to deny it?

You took in a deep breath once the two of you finally made it to the top, the harsh wind slashing at your lungs as you did so. Staring out at the murky ocean water and the heavily damaged roads made you feel reborn. You were staring out into a world you've seen so many times before and yet none of it was familiar. Sometimes you forgot that this place used to be your home. Every aspect of the city seemed to have shifted in some way after the bombs dropped.

"It's beautiful, isn't it? The Commonwealth."

MacCready moved to stand next to you, taking a moment to gaze out at the sight before replying, "Gonna be honest with you, boss, I don't see it." He pulled out a broken cigarette, lighting it before continuing, "I just see a bunch of suffering people."

"I guess so." You muttered out, crouching down to sit on the ground, dangling your feet off the edge as you looked out. "But people suffer in every timeline."

"Careful on the edge there," MacCready warned, coming up to sit cross-legged next to you. "We didn't really come all the way up here to look at this place, did we? We could've done this on the ground."

You nudged him with your shoulder when you saw the glowing orange start to drain into the black sky, "But look!"

The sun rose slowly, illuminating more and more as it moved. That was another familiarity that bleed in from the pre-war world. A thing that anyone, anywhere, at any time could recognize. It glared down at the buildings, casting their long shadows across the ruined town, positioned in such a way where it felt like everything here belonged—that it wasn't all a huge mistake from the past.

"Watching that wouldn't be the same on the ground." MacCready rolled his eyes at your statement, a faint smile making its way onto his face.

The world might’ve been on fire, but as long as Mac was a part of it, you wouldn't have had it any other way. You felt his body stiffen as you placed your head on his shoulder. Exhaling lightly, you stared out at the chaotic scenes that played out below you. The regular occurrences of the Boston Commons were frightening but familiar, and you almost found yourself appreciating the consistencies of the area every day. It was getting harder and harder to find, and this world was slowly becoming more like a home.

#fallout 4 #fo4 fanfic #fallout 4 fanfic #fo4 fanfiction #fallout 4 fanfiction #maccready #robert maccready #fo4 maccready #maccready fallout 4 #maccready fo4 #robert joseph maccready #maccready x sole survivor #maccready x reader #sole survivor #fo4 oneshot #fallout 4 oneshot

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junior-high-rui-official · 6 months

Text

[ooc post]

wahoooo intro post time

edit: I DO NOT GET NOTIFS FOR ASKS OR MENTIONS!! if you send or answer an ask to/from this blog, please LIKE one of the posts so I get a notif and am prompted to check this blog because I have too many.

i saw people making rp blogs + didn't want to be a total clone + like angst. so this happened.

im @2-kakimiko-1 i run @junior-high-ena-official @riho-hasegawa-official and @jail-x-break-official too

the mod is autistic and a minor and uses he/it and a handful of neopronouns listed here :3 you don't need to overuse tone tags or anything but I struggle to tell tone sometimes so I'd appreciate it if you used them !! my timezone is est if it matters

i'd prefer if you used he/it/they for the character! Ngl I used to say no shippy interaction but I genuinely do not remember why I felt that way so. its allowed now yippee

for all intents and purposes this blog is set around the end of Rui's 3rd year of junior high/the summer of his 3rd year of junior high. :3

ummm headcanon time because I'll be playing by those. he's pan, aceflux, transmasc and he just figured that out, and autistic and bpd. he knows the former not the latter. bad at taking care of himself but that's a given. yeah 👍

this blog has and will continue to cover heavy topics, mostly bullying and occasionally sh and sui related things. they will all be tagged and if I forget please tell me! you are also always welcome to ask me to tag anything, I'll tag common triggers if I remember but if theres something I miss or something you need tagged again T E L L M E P L E A S E

ummm dni. basic dni criteria racist MAP or w/e homophobic transphobic ableist etc um I think that's it tbh uhh dni if youre weird (/neg) about rui and think hes a violent cannibal yandere whatever the hell. since I did mention he has bpd I think this needs to be picked out even though it falls under ableism get the actual fuck off my blog if you can't be normal about cluster b disorders.

uhhh be nice to rui hes sensitive be nice to the mod i am also sensitive/hj

edit: my rp style!! I feel like I should clarify it!!

ooc is the double slash! → // like this

unformatted text indicates speech! → like this

italics indicate actions! → like this

italics with brackets indicate internal thoughts! → [like this]

tags:

#ooc post - ooc post

#rooftop whispers - everything in-character

#rooftop mewls - funny other in-character tag for when he gets turned into a cat by anons. this will likely become a regular occurrence.

#tw ____ - trigger tags

picrew used for cat icon

arc tags and respective warnings:

#kamishiro family angst - series of events catalysed by several rui clones experiencing negative things at once, mrs kamishiro collapsing under the stress of taking care of that all, and as one thing leads to another, other kamishiro family members end up injured and hospitalized. warnings for: hospital related things, overworking, fainting, car accidents, mentions of brainwashing and torture (on exthief rui), descriptions of injury ranging from minor to more graphic to gory.

#project sekai #rp blog #rui kamishiro #kamishiro rui

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moonfurthetemmie · 3 months

Note

As soon as I saw Stitches and her little gremlin friends, I got the idea that she could just carry them. Just pick ‘em up. Maybe she wouldn’t (haphephobia) or I’m overestimating her strength, but I just thought it’d be funny if those two are starting shit and she just walks over, picks up one with each hand, and leaves with no context given. Also I kinda thought it’d be funny if Slash just carried Pluto in like a backpack type thing, like when he’s tired or whatever. Might not be the sort of thing they’d go for, but silly mental images keep me entertained.

JSJSJSDH

Stitches just grabs Moon by the back of his shirt and levitates Ichigo and leaves

just bc how are you gonna pick her up by her clothes when she’s wearing plate armor

I think that would only happen in a few circumstances but it’d be so funny

Slash probably WOULD carry Pluto if he was too tired or not feeling well. He’s not happy about it, but she’ll do it.

Still not very common occurrence, but Slash would probably enjoy carrying her small friends around.

#Fantasy AU #horror!ds #horror!dreamswap #dreamswap #h!ds slash #h!ds pluto #h!ds byte #ds nightmare #DS Cross #ds error

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sunstone-smiles · 2 years

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Hi, tgaa anon here! Was thinking if you could write something with ryuunosuke and kazuma. I feel like those two definitely would have had a tickle fight at some point in their friendship. Love your fics <3

Kazuma, yesss! I haven’t written for him yet, so this was a perfect prompt for him! Thank you for the wait! I hope you enjoy!

An Entertaining Lesson in Sword Techniques

Series: The Great Ace Attorney

Characters: Kazuma Asogi and Ryunosuke Naruhodo

Words: 2,041

Summary: Kazuma tries to teach Ryunosuke about sword techniques, but the lesson takes a playful turn when Ryunosuke lets out an unexpected reaction to one of his moves. Enjoy!

—

An image of a samurai from an ancient war stretches across the page of an open book. With armor that seems impenetrable, the swordsman holds a sharp katana near the side of his head, almost perfectly in the same horizontal plane of his eyes. He’s positioned to strike and tear through the fold of the binding keeping him captive, but he’s unable to move due to the limitations of the paper. Informational words that fill up the rest of the page are quietly read by Ryunosuke as he sits at his desk, struggling to grasp the intricacies of the skilled motions that this great warrior could do just from a picture.

“Hey Kazuma?” Ryunosuke glances over his shoulder to gain his best friend’s attention, who’s currently sitting on the couch reading a book of his own, “Mind if I ask you something?”

Kazuma removes the pages away from his eyes. “Of course not. What would you like to know?”

Ryunosuke twists around to dangle his legs over the side of his chair. “Well, I’ve been reading about sword techniques recently for a paper I have to do for class, and I was wondering if you could show me some since I know you’re skilled with your katana. It would help if I could actually see the movements in action rather than an image on a page.”

Kazuma’s face lights up. “I would be happy to!” He places his book down on the cushions beside him and walks over to an open area in the room. “Here, come stand by me,” he enthusiastically gestures. Ryunosuke blinks at him for a moment, surprised that he jumped up and is ready to do this now. Kazuma gestures at him again to come to his side, and Ryunoskuke snaps out of his short daze. He hurriedly scoots out of his chair and makes his way to the middle of the room with Kazuma, staying by his side until his friend moves across from him as if they are going to spar.

“So to start, I’ll show you the movements for some of the more common techniques.” Kazuma stances himself like he is holding his sword, elbows bent to one side of his body and his feet separated from one another. “This is what I call a cross slash.” The skilled blade wielder slowly moves his arms in the specific directions he mentions, “It’s one slash from the left shoulder to the right side, one slash from the right shoulder to the left side, then one slash directly across the middle.”

Ryunosuke watches his friend’s movements intently, absorbing all the information being given to him. “Ah, I see.”

“Now, I’m going to do it faster and to you.” Kazuma holds up his hands and puts his fingers together like he is wearing mittens. “Pretend that the tip of my fingers make up the edge of the katana.”

Ryunosuke nods. “Got it.”

“Alright, ready?” Kazuma waits for Ryunosuke to signal yes with a nod again. Once he gains confirmation from his friend, he springs into action, “Hya!” With swift movements, Kazuma slices his hand across Ryunosuke’s chest in a X shape, then finishes the attack with a slice horizontally across his stomach.

“Ah!” Ryunosuke jolts back with a few giggles and clutches his tummy.

“Ryunosuke, are you okay?” Kazuma asks, worried that he may have accidentally hurt his friend.

Ryunosuke takes a deep breath to stop his stream of giggles. “Yeah, I’m fine. That last slash just tickled,” he says with a lingering smile.

“Oh, sorry about that.” Kazuma then straightens himself out to move on to another technique, but he pauses when he processes what had just occurred. Kazuma would not be the first one to fool around when trying to teach something important like this, but it also wouldn’t hurt just to have a little bit of fun this one time.

“We’ll move on from that one,” Kazuma hides his mischievous smile. “Next, I want to show you a more challenging technique. One that uses dual wielding katanas.”

“That sounds pretty advanced…” Ryunosuke trails off, unsure about the sudden jump in difficulty.

“Not to worry. It’s quite simple once you get the hang of it.” Kazuma straightens his fingers out and puts them together again like he did the first time. He then moves closer to Ryunosuke. “Now, what you want to do here is come to the side of your opponent and strike—like this,” Kazuma ends his sentence with a jab directly into Ryunosuke’s side, making the shorter of the two flinch back with a giggly yelp.

“Kazuma!” Ryunosuke wraps his arms around his own torso.

“Hold on, you want to be careful that your opponent can’t get away,” Kazuma smiles and jabs his friend's other side.

“Kazuma! That tickles!” Ryunosuke squirms from left to right. The katana wielder then maneuvers himself behind his friend—now that his plan is in action—and unstiffens his fingers to wiggle into Ryunosuke’s sides.

“Oh really? I hadn’t noticed,” Kazuma teases over Ryunosuke’s increased giggles.

“Nohohow you’re doing ihihit on puhuhurpose!” Ryunosuke exclaims, figuring out that the jab attack he was supposedly being taught was all just part of Kazuma’s scheme to get him giggling. Ryunosuke attempts to squeeze his arms around himself in defense, but he ends up losing his balance and crumbling to the ground onto his back. Kazuma follows him down and swiftly scribbles into his torso, causing Ryunosuke to jolt and curl himself up in a giggling ball. He tries to escape, but once he realizes that rolling around to dodge out of the way isn’t working, he knows that he has to go on the offensive.

In order to fight back, Ryunosuke shoves Kazuma over onto the floor, then hurriedly sits up to lunge at him. When Kazuma sees his friend on the attack, he hastily tries to roll away, but Ryunosuke is able to pin him on his stomach and grab his right arm behind his back to prevent an easy escape. Kazuma attempts to shake Ryunosuke off of him, but his efforts to free himself are thwarted when Ryunosuke starts scribbling into his exposed ribs.

“GAH! Ryunohohosuke!” Kazuma jumps and breaks out into giggles.

Ryunosuke grins from ear to ear while he enacts his revenge, showing no mercy as he playfully claws into his friend’s upper half. “This is what you get for tricking me with your lesson!” Ryunosuke says and moves his hand down his friend's side.

Kazuma yelps and attempts to free his arm to protect his ticklish side, but Ryunosuke has a tight hold on him. However, Kazuma isn’t going down without a fight.

“Well, I’m nohohot done yehet!” Kazuma exclaims and reaches behind him with his free arm to squeeze Ryunosuke’s side. The shorter man reels back and reflexively shoots his arms down to protect his middle, which allows Kazuma to push himself back up and launch towards his friend. Ryunosuke’s eyes go wide once he realizes his mistake, and he holds his hands up in defense while he’s knocked to the ground.

The skilled katana wielder follows up by darting his hand towards Ryunosuke’s ribs, but the student catches Kazuma’s wrists right before they can make contact. Using his position to his advantage, Ryunosuke forcibly rolls his entire body to the side, rapidly turning the tables on Kazuma; however, Kazuma counters by using the exact same strategy to flip Ryunosuke back over. The two then playfully wrestle on the ground, rolling around and knocking each other over for a chance to gain the upper hand.

Eventually though, Kazuma wins the tussle by pushing Ryunosuke onto his stomach and scribbling into his underarms before he can strike back. Ryunosuke yelps and quickly clamps his arms down, his flood of giggles starting up again while his friend has the advantage.

“If it’s a fight you want, then a fight you’re going to get!” Kazuma grins.

“Fihihihine then!” Ryunosuke responds, still invested into this battle, and finds an opening to nudge Kazuma backwards. Once again, Ryunosuke picks himself up and lunges at Kazuma with full speed, toppling his friend over onto the floor. He catches Kazuma completely off guard and immediately scribbles into both of his sides, sending the usually composed katana wielder into a flailing giggling mess.

“No! Nohoho! Nohohot there!” Kazuma leans his head back with laughter pouring out of him while he tries to shove Ryunosuke away from one of his most ticklish spots.

“Ha ha! I got your weak point!” Ryunosuke exclaims victoriously as he digs into Kazuma’s sides.

“Ryunohohosuke wahahait!” Kazuma curls up into a giggling ball and rolls over onto his side. He unintentionally attempts to hide his silly smile behind his shoulder, but Ryunosuke makes it his new goal to uncover it.

“So going back to the lesson, I have to jab like this, right?” the shorter student smirks and uses his hands to now jab into Kazuma’s exposed side, just like the katana wielder did to him earlier. Kazuma jolts with a giggly yelp every time his friend ticklishly stabs at him, resulting in his smile being revealed again. He twists onto his back to pull his friend’s wrists away, which only allows Ryunosuke the opportunity to claw into both of his sides again.

“I shohould have never shown you that tahahactic!“ Kazuma jokingly regrets his decision.

“But you did, and now we’re here,” Rynosuke smirks.

“Ohoho that’s it!” Detecting the perfect opportunity to counter, Kazuma reaches up and scribbles into his friend's ribs. Ryunosuke temporarily recoils, then grabs Kazuma’s wrists to push him down, but the katana wielder overpowers him and thrusts Ryunosuke backwards onto the floor. Right after, Kazuma recovers and darts his hands towards him. With fast reflexes, Ryunosuke catches his friend’s arms in an attempt to wrestle away the mischievous digits getting dangerously close to his torso, but Kazuma captures both of Ryunosuke’s wrists in one hand—leading to them being quickly pinned above his head. Ryunosuke tries to wriggle away and pull his hands free, but he gasps once he sees Kazuma with a smirk and wiggling fingers in the air.

“Kazuma! Wait!” he calls out, but the katana wielder above him promptly plunges his hand into his vulnerable ribs and underarms.

“AH! Kahahazumahaha!” Ryunosuke bursts into hysterics with a big giggly smile on his face.

“Gotcha now, partner,” Kazuma grins and keeps up his attack on his friend's ticklish upper half, wiggling his fingers across each of his ribs as he alternates between the left and right set. Ryunosuke wriggles under his friend’s hold as he’s reduced into a giggly puddle, trying to roll away and free his arms to counter attack, but being unable to budge out of the tickly hold.

“And now for the final strike!” Kazuma exclaims playfully. Soon after, he releases Ryunosuke’s wrists and shoots both of his hands under his friend's arms, clawing into the ticklish spot through his uniform. Ryunosuke’s laughter increases in volume and he wildly flails around, weakly trying to sit himself up and wriggle away as Kazuma digs into one of his most ticklish spots.

“Ohokay! Okahahay! I surrehehender” Ryunosuke exclaims through his laughter while still trying to shove Kazuma off of him.

Kazuma grins and immediately moves his hands away. Ryunosuke goes limp on the ground, staring at the ceiling while he takes in deep breaths of air to regain the oxygen had lost in the tide of the battle. After a few moments, Kazuma kneels down next to his friend with a smile.

“So, how did you like my lesson?

Ryunosuke tiredly turns his head in Kazuma’s direction. “Oh yeah…it was great…really informative,” Ryunosuke sarcastically answers in his winded state. Kazuma chuckles, then lends his friend a hand to help him sit up.

He pats Ryunosuke on the back. “Alright, let’s get back to the actual lesson. And I promise no distractions this time.”

Ryunosuke can’t help but chuckle as well. “Thanks Kazuma.”

The katana wielder assists his friend back onto his feet and they return to their original positions so Kazuma can continue his teachings for real this time. Ryunosuke definitely didn’t expect their lesson about sword techniques to take the silly turn when it did, but it made learning about it much more entertaining.

#A request from Sunstone!#ace attorney #the great ace attorney #tgaa #ryunosuke naruhodo #kazuma asogi #ace attorney fanfiction #ace attorney fanfic #sfw fanfiction #sfw fanfic #sfw tickle fic #tickle fic

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oddygaul · 5 months

Text

Oneechanbara Origin

Look, I knew what this game was going in. I wasn’t expecting a fuckin masterpiece. I just wanted a fun, trashy game with big anime titties and a satisfying combat system. And still I was let down.

Credit where it’s due, the animation is actually quite good for all three characters - you can for sure tell that’s where all the effort went here. There’s a lot of really sick keyframing on all the combos, and the incredibly generous hitstop will nearly freezeframe you if you hit enough enemies, which is deeply satisfying if you trigger it on one of the cooler combo poses. Saki’s easily my favorite for this reason; all of her huge arcing launch attacks feel great to land after the huge windup.

Shame, then, that every character basically has three entire combos. Three. I know it’s unreasonable to expect full DMC levels of moveset variety, but this is bottom-of-the-barrel, Dynasty Warriors-ass, one square combo, one triangle combo, and one square into triangle combo stuff. Rough, man. The game tries to add a few systems on top of this to add depth to the gameplay, but they’re so incidental they don’t feel like they add any player expression.

The Cool Combinations are supposed to be this game’s signature system, I think; if you time the next hit in a combo just right, your character flashes a bit with Glowing Anime Power and the move will come out faster and charge your energy up a bit. It’s kind of reminiscent of the Exceed system on Nero’s Red Queen, except… way less impactful and not as cool lol. Your game has to be really damn good for me to even consider engaging with any system that requires me to memorize the timing of every single one of a character’s attacks - hell, DMC5 fucking rules and I still haven't taken the time to practice getting consistent exceeds - and if the system is even more finicky than usual due to the timing constantly changing due to the massive hitstun when fighting groups… I’m good, man.

The two tiered berserk system is kinda fun; aesthetically, I’m here for the big dumb Kill la Kill-lookin Baneful Blood forms. But between the fact that it triggers automatically and not on-command, and the fact that it’ll often run out almost immediately because it triggered right before you need to sprint down a sewer pipe for 30 seconds (a common occurrence in this game), it feels pretty half baked.

I will say, I was surprised and impressed by how good some of the boss fights are, though. The game’s enemies are largely either hapless potatoes or frustrating little bastards with poorly-telegraphed attack windups, and the larger zombie bosses follow those trends. But man, basically every fight against a sword-wielder turns into a mini-Sekiro fight. Suddenly you remember there’s a parry and a perfect dodge, and you really have to nail them and get the attack patterns down pat to make it through. While it doesn’t have anything like the posture bar, nailing the perfect dodge / parry builds your special meter real quick, so if you’re nailing every evade, the play pattern of most bosses essentially becomes a 100% uptime of your character either doing a flip or an iaido slash, which is fun as hell.

Oh, and my other big criticism of this game is that all the outfits are paid DLC. IMO if you’re making a game with this much Big PS2 Energy, it’s just way more thematically appropriate to have a bunch of stupid costumes to unlock in-game, to give the players a carrot to chase. Miss me with that paid shit.

Eh, I know this is how it goes with B games, I shouldn’t be expecting the world. I feel like lately I’m just used to finding gems in that space, so it’s a bummer to play something that’s about what you'd expect it to be. The search continues! Capcom give new Sengoku Basara pls 🥺

#will's media thoughts / virtual brain repository #games #oneechanbara origin

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rallis-fatalis · 10 months

Text

The Price of Freedom - Chapter 4

Waa-hey, we're writing actual RS3 characters now and idk wtf I'm doing!

Apparently, troll attacks were rather common occurrences in Taverley.

The children, elderly, and otherwise unable to defend the town scrambled indoors with an efficiency one would only have with much practice, as if violent attacks were routine. Astrath hadn’t a clue what was happening until a rock the size of a human head came hurtling through the sky to demolish a yak-cart and the ugly monstrous grunting of a pack of trolls broke the calm of Taverley.

Astrath grabbed their dual swords and threw open the door of their host’s home, ready to provide aid. Silenthe grabbed their arm before the dragon could step outside.

“Don’t be foolish!” the druid hissed. “Let the summoners handle this. We need to take cover.” He pulled the dragon to the kitchen table to hide under. Astrath wrenched their arm free.

“I used to be a guard,” the dragon asserted. “These swords aren’t just for show. I can help so I’m going to.” And with that, the dragon swept outside, tail knocking the door closed behind them.

By the mountains to the northwest, a group of druids stood their ground against the invading trolls. Each druid had a beast summoned for battle, from great minotaurs plated in metal, to titans of the natural elements, to a rather odd standout of a gigantic winged rabbit with deer antlers. Before the line of magical beasts were nearly twenty trolls. Some perched farther atop the mountainside to pelt Taverley with throwing rocks, but most opted for a more hands-on approach. They smashed their clubs and pounded their great fists at the creatures and the druids, locked in a battle of magic versus might.

Astrath readied their swords and leapt into the air, bouncing off the shoulder of a moss titan and flying through the air. As they descended, they crossed their swords and slashed them across the neck of an oblivious troll. With a sickening squelch, the monster’s head slid right from its neck and its body fell back with a heavy thud. The trolls nearby grunted in slightly scared confusion before piling onto the dragon.

Three trolls cornered Astrath, but the dragon did not feel threatened. The first troll to strike held its club overhead, and in the brute’s slow speed, Astrath slammed a sword into its exposed gut and yanked sideways, spewing its reeking guts. Before it could fall dead, the second troll reared back to punch the dragon with its crude glove of granite. Astrath deflected the blow with their free blade, making their shoulder twinge from the force, and pulled their first sword free with a deadly flourish. The dragon stuck their blade through the troll’s throat and sliced its spinal cord.

The third troll took its chance and grabbed the dragon with both its hands. Astrath growled as they lost one sword to the corpse as it fell away, and the second now inaccessible. The troll’s huge hands wrapped around Astrath like a child with a toy doll. The beast smiled and squeezed. Astrath hissed and dropped their second sword as they clawed and wriggled in the brute’s grasp. The troll only squeezed harder.

Astrath couldn’t hide the whine of pain. They felt like their bones were going to break! Well if clawing and wriggling wouldn’t work…

The dragon roared and clamped down on one of the troll’s hands with their teeth. The rows of deadly blades dug deep into its flesh, and the force of a dragon’s bite, no matter how small, is no small power. With a crunch more devastating than even a crocodile’s, Astrath bit so fiercely into the troll’s hand, they pierced into a knuckle bone, the crack resounding through the dragon’s ears.

The troll let go and stepped back with a scream of pain. Before Astrath could dislodge themself, an axe of mithril cracked open the monster’s skull. A summoned minotaur snorted triumphantly over the body and readied their axe once more.

Astrath scooped up both swords and readied a stance, and after tearing down two more timid and weak trolls, the battle was over. A pack of wounded or scared trolls ran for their lives back into the mountains, leaving the dead or dying bodies of their friends behind. Astrath breathed a sigh of relief and glanced to see if anyone on their side was killed. Thankfully, that was not the case, though some summoners would definitely need to see a medic. The dragon wiped their blades clean of the foul-smelling troll blood and noticed with some disdain that they would now need yet another bath and their clothes laundered.

“Astrath! Are you injured?”

The summoning master, Pikkupstix, dashed the dragon’s way. The man seemed unharmed, and by his side was the weird rabbit beast Astrath noted earlier.

“I don’t seem to be,” the dragon said. Although the troll’s grasp hurt, it didn’t seem like it had broken any bones. Perhaps if Astrath had remained pinned longer…

“That’s good,” the druid said, relieved. “I’m glad to say we made it out of that mostly unscathed. And you! You were quite the surprise! I must say I feel safer knowing our resident dragon is a combatant!”

“Many years of training,” they said, somewhat somberly. “Are attacks like this common? You all seemed ready and trained for the event.”

“Sadly, yes. The mountains to the northwest belong to the mountain trolls. Burthorpe to the north is meant to protect us from encounters such as this, but sometimes a pack of trolls will get through. In the beginning, we lost quite a few summoning apprentices to those monsters.”

“Sounds like this Burthorpe needs better guards,” Astrath scoffed.

“I wouldn’t put it like that,” Pikkupstix said. “But this was definitely more trolls than usual. I’ve never seen more than ten, and even then the average is three to five. I fear something may be wrong in Burthorpe.”

“Would you like me to investigate the situation?” Astrath offered. It would only be fair given their hospitality to the dragon.

“Only if you’re sure you’re not wounded!”

“The blood isn’t mine,” Astrath assured. “I need only a few moments of reprieve first. Then I’ll get to the bottom of this.”

_____________________________________________________________________________

To say Burthorpe was in a state of disarray would be an understatement. Granted, Astrath had never seen the town before, but they assumed it was not meant to be littered with bloodstains and ravaged by battle.

A great battlement akin to both a castle and a fort loomed against the northern mountains. Soldiers in black and gray garb practiced drills Astrath was all too familiar with, ran about in a panicked state with armfuls of battle supplies, carried wounded or deceased back to the fort castle, toiled away at fortifying defenses, or otherwise busied themselves. The dragon was taken aback by the scene before them. They had never seen something like this before.

They grabbed the attention of the next soldier that ran by. “Excuse me! May you point me in the direction of the person in charge?”

The soldier nearly leapt out of her skin at the sight of the talking dragon. They had enough close encounters with monsters for one lifetime! “Um, the uh captain is that way!” she pointed to an opening in the fortifications by the fort castle. “Bald, kinda old, can’t miss him. Now excuse me.”

She rushed away, heading towards the mountains to the west, the mountains Pikkupstix said trolls came from. Astrath grumbled in thought and headed over to the fort.

There was indeed an older-looking man by the entrance, overseeing some kind of large operation and shouting commands. By listening in, Astrath could tell these people were having troll issues as well, only on a far larger scale.

When the man had a break in his commands, the dragon interrupted his work. “Excuse me, sir. Are you the person in charge?”

Astrath didn’t miss the slight reflex the man had at the sight of the dragon, a flinch in the direction of the weapons at his side. But he composed himself.

“Yes, I am. I am Commander Denulth, head of the Burthorpe Guard. What brings you to me?”

“I am Astrath, a guest of Taverley. Not long ago, we were attacked by a large pack of trolls. I am here to investigate how so many of them could reach the town. Care to explain?”

Denulth called someone over and swiftly provided them with instructions before turning his attention back to the dragon. “Come with me. What you will be shown should be told to Taverley.”

Astrath nodded and followed the man westward toward the mountains. As they grew closer, more blood and broken battlements marred the earth. Corpses, both human and troll, lay at the foot of the mountain range, with far more of the latter than had attacked Taverley. Astrath could faintly pick up the sounds of combat deeper within the mountains, a terrifying whisper of carnage the dragon could only try to imagine.

“If you are from Taverley, even though new, you should know of our struggles with the mountain trolls,” Denulth said. “In the last few days, this threat has evolved into something more serious than we have ever faced. Trolls from deep within the mountains, from their own strongholds, have finally come forth to lay siege, and we have no idea why. It’s as if something is commanding them, something we have never faced before. We have recruited the aid of some expert groups outside of the Burthorpe Guard, including the Warriors’ Guild, and we hope to finally turn the tide of this battle. We have already pushed back the trolls’ advance into the mountains again and fortified the defenses. Taverley should not see another attack like it faced today.”

Astrath nodded. That was good. Hopefully this situation would be wrapped up soon then; it certainly seemed like it would be. The commander’s explanation would be good enough for Taverley; it was time to return.

“Thank you. I will return to inform Taverley immed–.”

“Hey hey! You the boss man?”

An eclectic group of adventurers greeted Denulth and Astrath, led by a brightly clad charismatic archer and a much more serious-looking woman in green with a wizard’s staff. A decent assembly of fighting-fit warriors gathered behind them.

The green wizard woman rolled her eyes and pushed the archer aside. “This fool means to ask if you are Commander Denulth.”

“Indeed I am. Can I assume you’re the volunteering adventurers?”

“Assume and more, dear commander,” the archer said with a rather dramatic intonation. “We’re here to save the day!”

“Right… Please come this way.”

Denulth led the group toward the mountains. The crowd chattered excitedly, hands reaching for their weapons, just itching for a fight. Astrath hissed under their breath. It was people like this that hunted monsterkind for the pleasure of the rich to behold. These people disgusted them. The act of a single good deed here today would not absolve them of their foul and unashamed superiority complex like worldviews. The dragon figured they had better leave before their ire got the best of them.

But as the dragon turned away from the crowd, the scales on the back of their neck flared. Something primal and fearful flared inside them, an instinct that went far beyond fight or flight. It only took Astrath a single glance to find the cause.

Standing out far more than the other adventurers, even more than the chatty archer and the serious mage, was a man in name only. Heavy plated armor vaguely in the shape of a person clanked with every step. A shield the size of a two-handed bulwark was strapped to one arm as if it weighed nothing, and the other heaved a weapon unlike anything Astrath had ever seen, something akin to a mace with a spiked segmented tail. Various other smaller weapons rested on the man’s belts, from swords to daggers to an axe and more. Not a single glimpse of the person underneath the armor showed through, making the mobile tank of a warrior far more intimidating than he was (and he indeed already was).

In unison, the two had a silent death grip on a weapon, no words needed to sense the animosity radiating off the other. Astrath could practically see the maliciousness of the armored man radiate from him, the most bloodthirsty aura the dragon had ever seen, even more than Franz. And the man could feel a hatred run so hot from the beast before him it made his blood boil. It held a fighting aura so stubborn and intense he could feel it in his bones. He wanted to fight this beast, to bring out its worst, and he would have had the dragon not stormed away, tail swishing in anger. Perhaps he might bring it upon himself to track the beast down again soon. Perhaps…

________________________________________________________________________

Good to his word, no more trolls attacked Taverley in the week since Astrath paid Commander Denulth a visit. In that time, Astrath graduated from summoning sassy serpents to far more temperamental honey badgers. Pikkupstix commented on their quick learning and hinted that perhaps the more advanced beasts could be practiced next. The dragon tried not to let their eagerness show. Every day was a step closer to vengeance; they just had to keep practicing.

One night over dinner, Silenthe had made a divine brisket, the druid broached a new subject.

“I’ve been wondering, Astrath. What is it you did before coming to Taverley? You’re certainly a strong fighter, and you mentioned being a guard. But I can’t imagine a dragon guarding a market stall or somesuch.”

The man could see the dragon immediately stiffen and toss him a wary look.

“I apologize if that was too prying of a question to ask!” Silenthe hurried. “I suppose I’m curious, is all.”

Astrath put down their fork, no longer as hungry as before. “I didn’t guard a shop or anything so small. I guarded people, monsters, against my will,” they growled menacingly. “You can consider my previous work to be defending or otherwise bending to the will of my kidnappers.”

That made Silenthe nearly choke on his food. “K-Kidnappers?! You were abducted?!”

Astrath grit their teeth. “I will not speak of it more and I will thank you to not ask of my past again.”

“Of course, my apologies,” the druid stammered. “Were you at least able to go to the authorities? People like that deserve to die behind bars.”

The dragon fell silent for a long moment. “I don’t think that would be possible,” they finally said, quiet and strained. Silenthe didn’t pry any more, but there was no denying the man was far more curious about his guest than before.

“Have you heard of the dragons that live in the caves beneath our town?” the druid changed the subject. That immediately got Astrath’s interest, eyes more bright and shoulders less slumped. “I assumed you might want to meet them, but I had not brought them up before because the cavern systems are full of dangers that I feared could even kill an adventurer such as yourself. But with your skill with the sword, I suppose I don’t have much to worry about!”

“I would very much like to pay these dragons a visit. Where can I find them?”

“I’ll be glad to show you tomorrow. It’s far too late today. And you will have to be rather wary. Many other creatures call those caverns home, as do some rather unsavory extremists. The occasional adventurer looking for glory also wanders down every once in a while.”

Once the dishes were done and the night came to a close, Astrath could hardly sleep a wink, far too excited over the prospect of meeting other dragons. Wild dragons! Actual free roaming wild dragons! Not sad malnourished husks trapped behind bars for the wealthy to gawk at. They would be sure to bring Rojaw, to show the drakeling what a real dragon was meant to look like.

Dawn could not arrive sooner.

___________________________________________________________________________

To the south of Taverley, just a skip across the river, lay a hole in the ground. Carved stone steps descended into the earth, leading into warm darkness. A pair of signs stood post by the hole, warning of the dangers inside and to not enter without proper preparations.

“Here we are,” Silenthe presented. “What is colloquially known as Taverley Dungeon. Immediately to your right will be a large hole in the wall. If you squeeze through, you’ll find nests of blue dragons. Farther in, you’ll find black dragons. Just follow the path south of the blue dragon nests and head as far north as possible. I do caution you, however. Keep your guard up; the demons are especially vicious.”

“I’ll be fine,” Astrath assured. “Thank you for bringing me here. See you later tonight!”

The black dragon bounded down the steps, more excited than they had ever been in their life, with a cheerful fiery red drake bouncing right behind them.

The caves were dark, with only the faint glow of lit torches farther in illuminating the rocky walls. Yet somehow Astrath could see perfectly as though it were day. This was far different than seeing better than most under a moonlit night. Even Rojaw could, making the two dragons blink around in the wonder of learning something new about themselves.

As Silenthe said, soon to the right was a large hole in the cavern walls. Astrath slipped through, followed much less gracefully by their companion, and held a gasp at the sight before them. Huge dragons filled the giant cavern before them. They stalked the room, curled up for a nap in nests, cleaned their hatchlings, scratched away loose scales on the stalagmites, shredded into a dead giant for lunch; for the first time in their life, Astrath was seeing a natural habitat for their own kind, and oh was it a marvelous feeling.

The black dragon took a few timid steps into the cave. Even from a distance, they could see just how much bigger a wild dragon was to a poor captive one. Astrath themself was only the size of a baby blue! And poor Rojaw was closer to a large bird than a proper drake in the presence of an actual dragon.

A couple of adult dragons close to the hole raised their heads in alarm at their visitors, growling a warning to the other dragons. Suddenly every eye in the room was on Astrath and Rojaw. The orange drakeling bristled and cowered behind Astrath’s legs.

“You’re fine, friend,” Astrath soothed. “Greetings,” they addressed the blue dragons. “My name is Astrath. I am a dragon from a place far from here. This is my companion Rojaw. We mean you no alarm and only wish to meet fellows of our kind.”

One of the largest dragons stepped forward. She looked old and stronger than the others. She gave the two a sniff and decided for the group they were safe. The others relaxed, though the hatchlings would not take their eyes off their strange visitors.

“It’s wonderful to meet you,” Astrath told the old dragon. “Where I am from, there are so few of our kind. I never imagined I would be graced with the opportunity to meet a dragon like you.”

The old dragon was obviously not used to any kind of flattery and shied away a bit. She stood aside for them to have access to the other dragons in the cave. Realizing the situation was safe, Rojaw bounded over to the hatchlings, struck up a conversation, and began to play-wrestle.

Astrath chatted with every dragon they could, just enjoying being in their company, learning everything they could about the dragons, from the smallest things like what they enjoyed to eat to the more complex matters like hierarchy and other social structures. It was absolutely fascinating, though deep down a small part of them flared in rage that the Krawleys had taken such basic knowledge from them as their captive.

After a fine hour or so of discussion, Astrath bid the blue dragons good day, eager to meet the black dragons farther in. Their heart pounded in excitement; this would be the first time they saw a fellow black dragon that wasn’t a direct blood relation. Would they be like Astrath and their family, two-legged and small? Or were they like the blues, more primal and monstrous in appearance?

Astrath and Rojaw followed Silenthe’s instructions and followed blue dragon territory to its edge. Small pools and flows of lava poured out of the walls they were now so deep into the earth. The warmth was so nice, they almost wanted to take a quick nap in the comfort.

As they crossed the bend farther into the dungeon, a sharp foul smell hit the dragons’ noses. Rojaw gagged and Astrath covered their nose with a grimace. It smelled like blood and rot. They drew a sword and motioned for Rojaw to stay behind them.

Around another corner, the caverns were far more shadowed. There were no torches here, nor flows of lava to light the way. Yet the dragons could see perfectly fine. In the darkness were the slowly disintegrating corpses of monsters Astrath had never seen before. They were huge, far taller than the dragons they previously saw, and were as black as the shadows around them. They had webbed wings and horns just like a dragon, but they had no scales and walked on two hoofed feet. Five of the beasts’ corpses littered the cavern, with body parts sheared clean off or heads crushed by some ungodly force. Whatever did this was brutal in strength and means.

Astrath herded Rojaw away quickly, following the route to what would hopefully be the safety of the black dragons.

As they traversed the dungeon, a disturbing sound echoed throughout the caverns, a sound of fleshy crunching. Rojaw winced at the obvious sound of a series of bones snapping. Farther in, the two dragons could see the black dragons’ territory, and apparently it was lunch time. Three black dragons lounged in a circle around a pile of fresh kills, a pack of hellhounds and disturbingly a few humans. One of the dragons grabbed a human with its mouth, tossed it in the air, and snapped it down in a single horrific bite. Now it wasn’t just Rojaw who felt intimidated; Astrath was only the size of these dragons’ heads and perfectly snack-sized. They were starting to think perhaps paying the dragons a visit during lunch time wouldn’t be the best idea.

One of the three black dragons sniffed the air and growled, looking directly at the corner Astrath and Rojaw were ducked behind. The black dragon rose and stomped closer, absolutely towering over everything else. Astrath motioned for Rojaw to stay hidden behind the rocks and stepped into view. The other two dragons bristled and growled, greedily inching between the visitor and their food. Astrath bowed low before them.

“Greetings, my fellow dragons. I do not mean to disturb or distress you. Please forgive me. I only come seeking the knowledge of other dragons.”

One dragon ignored them and continued to eat. One sniffed at Astrath and snorted derisively. This creature called itself a dragon? The one that had risen seated itself but remained between Astrath and their food pile. It demanded to know what their visitor wanted to know, obviously eager to have the creature leave their meal time in peace.

First Astrath started with simple questions: what were wild black dragons like, what did they hunt, what was their social structure like, and so on. Learning they abandoned their young so the hatchlings would learn how to fend for themselves at a young age made Astrath glad their parents ignored that tradition, though they supposed they were still left to fend for themselves as a child anyway.

“Have you ever seen fellow black dragons that look like me?” Astrath asked. “I am looking for two others like myself.”

That made the two eating dragons laugh. If their hatchlings had turned out so stunted and pathetic-looking, they would have killed them to save the child the misery of life. Astrath bristled and bit back a foul remark.

The dragon before Astrath, however, gave an inquisitive sniff. They eyed Astrath much more closely, as if trying to remember every detail. As they locked eyes, a calculating yellow peering into a rare and beautiful lilac, the dragon’s head shot up in surprise.

You are a royal, it stated incredulously.

The two eating dragons’ heads shot up as well at the comment. This scrawny hatchling was a royal black dragon?!

“Indeed I am,” Astrath confirmed. “The two dragons I am looking for are also royal dragons. Have you seen them?”

The three black dragons’ attitudes completely changed, now polite and attentive. But sadly they had not seen horn nor tail of any royal dragons passing by recently. Astrath deflated a bit, but one of the dragons spoke up. If anyone would know the whereabouts of a royal dragon or two, it would be the king or queen.

“We have a king and queen?” Astrath whispered in awe.

The dragon nodded and informed Astrath the king was somewhere in a place called Forinthry. The queen’s location, however, was a mystery. She had been sealed away long ago.

“I shall have to look into this then. Thank you for the information. I’ll leave you to your meal now.”

Surprisingly, the three dragons bowed as Astrath bid them goodbye. Was being a royal black dragon really so special? Their parents hadn’t explained much to them as a child other than that royal dragons were more intelligent and longer lived than a normal dragon. Their mother also told a fanciful story about ancient royal dragons being able to travel across every world in the universe, but as Astrath grew older they thought perhaps that was naught but a hopeful tale of fiction meant to keep them going in their prison.

Content with the day’s adventure, Astrath and Rojaw began the walk back the way they came. Not far from the black dragons’ den, the two dragons froze at the sound of strangled fearful howls and barks being sickeningly silenced very close by. Something was hunting nearby. Astrath herded Rojaw the other way; better to find another way out than enter a hunting ground. But in a split second, a mutilated figure flew through the air, landing near Astrath’s feet. It was a hellhound, its face caved in from a gruesome blow. Rojaw whined in fear and pawed at his companion. Astrath picked the little fire drake up into their arms, ready to run if the hunter came close.

A heavy metal clunk echoed off the cavern walls, armored footsteps. Before Astrath could run, a figure came into view. A large brute, vaguely in the shape of a human, covered head to toe in heavy armor, leaving everything to the imagination. A huge whip-tailed mace leaned on his shoulder, blood dripping a trail in his wake. The unnerving adventurer from Burthorpe.

Astrath growled on reflex and backed away. They wanted nothing to do with this fiend and his aura of bloodlust. Despite his face being covered completely, Astrath could feel the warrior eyeing them up, mentally weighing their worth. But as his gaze drifted to the fire drake in their arms, he relaxed his stance a bit, almost as if in disappointment.

“Just a babysitter then?” the man said, voice echoing inside his helmet. “By those swords I thought you might be a decent warrior.”

‘I’ll show you how much of a warrior I am if you don’t leave us alone,’ the dragon thought with a growl. They took a few more steps back.

“And you cower like a weakling,” the man scoffed. “I hoped for more.”

“What do you want, human?” Astrath demanded. “For I want nothing to do with you.”

The warrior shrugged his mace into a more comfortable position. “I want to hunt. I want to fight. You intrigued me, but already I can tell you are nothing more than any other human adventurer. A shame, given you’re kin to dragons and brazen enough to tout elven weaponry.”

“Glad to disappoint you,” Astrath snarled. “I want nothing to do with foul-blooded humans looking for a fight. You reek of a malevolent aura I’m too familiar with.”

He barked a short nasty laugh. “Then you’re as pathetic as the druids you mingle with. A beast like you is meant to fight, yet you leave monsters as weak as trolls for others to deal with and bow your head to the beasts here. You’re a disrespect to your kind.”

“And what would you know?!” Astrath roared. “Who do you think you are?!”

The man turned away and began to walk, looking for more things to hunt, and for a moment Astrath thought perhaps he would ignore them. But echoing slightly off the dark walls, the dragon had their answer.

“You may call me Raptor. Do not forget my name.”

Oh, Astrath wouldn’t forget it alright. For that name would be yet another penned onto their mental list of monster abusers that would one day earn them a taste of their own medicine.

#rs3 #runescape #oc tag #my writes

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godslush · 3 years

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First - Back - Next

#art #fanart #mega man #megaman #dai's mega man dump #slash man #dr. wily #doctor wily #there doesn't have to be this many pipes and wires i just rly like drawign them ok #but seriously #my favorite part about 'mix-verse wily #is his dedication to rebuilding all of his numbers #he might be a bit mean to them when they fail #but he still cares in his own robot-dad way #i feel like this is a common occurrence with slash #since his whole design philosophy is 'bring knives and a carton of eggs to a gun fight'#he's your idiot son wily you made him this way

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msmischief101 · 3 years

Text

♜Pairing: Briles ♜Characters: Stiles Stilinski, Brett Talbot ♜Warnings: Explicit Content ♜Words: 4489 ♜ Stiles Rarepair Week Day 2: Slash Ship(s) ♜ AO3

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for @amatchinwater because this fic is kind of your fault. So, I hope you like it! 💖

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Stiles wanders down the stairs, rubbing his eyes with a yawn. The sun is peeking around the horizon. It’s certainly not an unusual time for him to wake up, hearing the soft strumming of a guitar, however, that’s certainly a rare occurrence. Usually, Brett doesn’t leave the bed before ten am, and that’s considered early. Judging by their sleeping habits, they really shouldn’t be together. Brett loves to sleep in. Stiles firmly believes he doesn’t have enough hours in a day. They’re an odd couple, but they work — well enough that Stiles followed Brett to Australia three months ago. Stiles didn’t think they would last, not when Brett left with his sister five weeks after they’d officially started dating.

But here they are, happier than ever.

Stiles skips the creaky stair like he always does in the early morning and follows the scent of coffee. Their addiction to caffeine is certainly something they have in common. It’s a good thing. That way they never have to worry about the lack of coffee or energy drinks in their little bungalow. Stiles couldn’t survive without either.

Armed with a cup of coffee, he walks towards their back patio. Even after three months, he’s still overwhelmed. Every morning he watches the sunrise, changing the ocean's color and calling him to the little stretch of beach right behind their home. It’s their private place in paradise. The snakes and spiders are still a bit off-putting, but after surviving Beacon Hills, this feels like a petting zoo. So far.

Stiles steps out onto the patio, the wood is warm despite the early hours of the day. He cocks his head, studying Brett’s profile for a little while. The surfer boy hair, the sharp jaw, the tattoos on his arms and shoulders and chest. His gaze snaps back up, zeroing in on that stupid tattoo of his lips on Brett’s neck. A smile tugs at the corner of his mouth, and he steps closer, brushing his fingers along the bright red mark. Brett was high when he asked him, and Stiles really thought it was nothing more than a joke. Two weeks later, he came home with this tattoo. His reasoning? Stiles’ marks were gone too soon, and he needed something permanent. Fucking werewolves.

The sound of the guitar quiets down. Brett turns his head and reaches for Stiles' hand, intertwining their fingers lazily. “Morning, Gorgeous.” He smiles up at him, kissing his knuckles one by one. No matter what he does, Brett makes it feels as if nothing could be any more intimate.

Stiles squints a little. They’ve been dating for a little over a year now, and he’s still not used to Brett calling him Gorgeous. Did the guy look in the mirror lately? Tanned skin, bright blue eyes, a body to kill for. “What dragged you out of bed so early?”

“Inspiration.” Brett smiles, placing the guitar on the table next to him, and pulls Stiles on his lap. They're going to have to enjoy this as long as they can because in two months classes start, and Stiles will have to leave at ass o'clock in the morning.

But he'd rather not think about that right now.

Grinning, Stiles plays with Brett's hair. “Can I see it?”

Brett smirks and leans forward, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to Stiles’ neck. His tongue brushes against his pulse point. “It’s not finished,” he whispers, pretending as if he has no fucking clue what he is doing to Stiles right now. That Brett knows how to push his every button is a serious problem. Stiles has almost been late for his shifts on more than one occasion, and it’s going to become seriously troubling when Stiles starts the next semester. He probably should consider locking himself into their bedroom every time he actually has to put in work.

“You always let me read your songs.” Stiles closes his eyes, sighing when Brett slips his hand under his shirt. His skin is warm, his touch soft.

“This one’s personal.” Brett paints the words against his neck and jaw, moving ever so slowly closer to his mouth.

Stiles wishes he had the composure to keep his attention on his coffee and the conversation at hand. But no matter how much he loves coffee, he loves Brett so much more. “Too personal for your boyfriend?” Stiles flicks his nose then leans down to kiss him, cupping Brett’s neck and cheek. He brushes his thumb along the tattoo, enjoying the way his boyfriend shudders underneath him ever so slightly. Although they’re still getting to know each other, their bodies are in tune. They fit together as if they were made for each other. They are. Fuck, they are. Stiles curls his fingers around Brett’s throat, just for a second. He grins when Brett shudders again and softly bites his bottom lip. There’s something about knowing that he can make Brett fall apart that gets to Stiles every single time. He’s always so awfully composed, so calm and grounded. But Stiles knows how to break him apart, and he knows how to put him back together again.

“Yes.” Brett runs his fingers up and down Stiles’ spine. “You can wait a little longer.”

Stiles pouts, tracing the lines of the inked feather on Brett’s chest. They both know Stiles has a severe lack of patience. He's just not good at waiting for anything.

“Oh, don’t give me that look.”

“Why?” Stiles asks, innocently dragging his nails over Brett’s chest and down to his abs.

Brett’s lids flutter shut for all but a second. Clearing his throat, he shifts a little underneath him, muscles tightening and relaxing. “Babe…” It's probably supposed to be a warning, but it comes out as a breathy whisper.

Stiles hums, slipping a finger behind the waistband of Brett’s sweatpants. “I’m not doing anything.”

Brett tightens his grip on Stiles’ hips, fingertips digging in hard. He’s long accepted that Brett being rough turns him on more than it probably should. Maybe it’s because he’s all too breakable in comparison to his boyfriend. Maybe it’s because Brett could break him, but Stiles isn’t worried. He trusts Brett, so much more than he trusts himself — and Stiles is proud to run around with marks on his skin, with the proof that he’s the only person who can bring ever-so-zen Brett to the brink of losing control. “You’re impossible.”

Grinning, Stiles brushes their noses together. “I think you mean irresistible.” He slips his hand in Brett’s pants, wrapping his fingers around his dick without any further hesitation. He still remembers how awkward he was in the beginning, how unsure as he figured out what Brett liked and what, perhaps, was a little too much for him. It quickly turned out that they’re enjoying the same things. Stiles tightens his grip, and Brett’s blunt nails dig into his skin. They enjoy it just a little too rough. They know exactly what to do to make each other feel very good very fast.

Brett’s mouth falls open with a moan, and Stiles kisses him. How could he resist? The fingers dig harder into his skin. Brett opens his legs further, making sitting on his lap just a little bit awkward. At the same time, however, it offers Stiles a bit more room to move — and he’s going to use it. He’s so going to use it.

Stiles works his hand up and down Brett’s length slowly, knowing exactly how much his dear boyfriend loves and hates it. It’s his own fault. Stiles learned the teasing from the master himself. Payback’s a bitch. He grins and pulls back just enough to be able to look at Brett’s face. The parted swollen lips, the soft pink on his cheeks, the sheen of sweat at his hairline. His eyes are half-open, locking with Stiles’.

“Fuck,” Brett breathes, fingers twitching. The sun dances on his skin. He’s so fucking pretty it takes Stiles’ breath away. Just looking at him— fuck, it makes him feel all kinds of ways.

Stiles licks his lips, dragging his thumb over the tip of Brett’s dick.

Brett’s head lolls back. A moan cuts through the silence of the morning, but there are no neighbors to be disturbed. They can be as loud as they want, as naked as they want, do whatever they want. This time Brett’s grip tightens enough to hurt, and Stiles swallows, closing his eyes for a second. Fucking hell, it’s so hard to keep his wits about himself when Brett looks and sounds wrecked. He is so hard, thinking has become almost impossible.

Licking his lips, Stiles leans forward. It’s not too often that Brett exposes his neck like that, but when he does? Who is Stiles to pass up an invitation like that? He scoots a bit closer, cursing under his breath when his pants rub against his dick just so. For a second, it’s more distracting than Brett’s bared neck within kissing distance. But only for a second. Stiles leans over, pressing his mouth against the flushed skin.

Brett moans again, and the sound all but kills him.

Stiles kisses Brett’s throat, working his hand up and down Brett’s length a bit faster now. He brushes his thumb over the tip, spreading more precum. His shirt is sticking to his skin, and Stiles would love to get rid of it, but there’s no way in hell he’s going to stop. Not when Brett’s so close. He can feel it in the way his leg muscles tighten, the way his breathing quickens. Brett’s hips stutter, and Stiles curls his fingers into the long strands, pulling his head back and to the right. The tattoo of his lips is right there. He kisses it, feeling Brett’s pulse jump, and sucks the skin between his teeth. Not for the first time, he wishes a hickey would stay for longer than a few seconds, wishes he could mark Brett just like he marks him.

A heartbeat later, Brett comes with his name on his lips, a broken sound that goes straight to Stiles’ dick. There’s nothing hotter than witnessing Brett falling apart under his touch. Almost nothing. Stiles makes a needy sound in the back of his throat, hips bucking on their own accord when a claw breaks his skin. Stiles can’t help but shudder, whining against Brett’s throat.

“Fuck.”

Stiles can’t tell why he’s cursing, but before he can dwell on it too much, Brett grabs his thighs and gets to his feet, lifting Stiles up as if it’s nothing. He has half the mind to come up with a stupid werewolf stamina comment; one that’s kissed off his lips the second he opens his mouth — and that’s fine because Stiles knows exactly that Brett is going to put that stamina to very good use in just a minute.

————

Wearing Brett’s t-shirt and sipping on a fresh cup of coffee, Stiles steps out on the patio almost two hours later. Payback’s a bitch, but fuck, Stiles has done it before and will do it again. He considers himself the luckiest person alive. Not only because Brett plays his body like a fiddle. Stiles cracks his neck, smiling a little, and walks back to the chair. He collapses into it, scrunching up his face, and shifts into a more comfortable position.

He smiles, watching the sun glittering on the ocean in their backyard. Sometimes, Stiles cannot believe it. Dating Brett. Living here. Escaping Beacon Hills. Being alive. It still seems like a fucking dream, but he’s pinched himself multiple times ever since moving here. All of this is very real. This is his reality. Only a little over a year ago, Stiles thought he’d never be happy again. Even after he started dating Brett… watching him leave for Australia almost broke him. But they made it. They made it. And now Stiles is here. With Brett. The love of his life.

Who’s keeping his newest work from him.

Stiles eyes the notebook, sipping on his coffee. Technically, Brett told him to wait until he’s done. He leans back in the chair, returning his attention to the ocean. Well, at least he tries to. Stiles glances to his left again. The notebook is open. Brett can hardly blame him if he accidentally read a few lyrics, right? Stiles sighs. Why is he even pretending? He’s not going to have a second of peace unless he checks out what Brett is working on.

Sipping on his coffee, Stiles reaches for the notebook and places it on his legs. Brett’s handwriting is a complete mess. There are scribbles everywhere. On the top right, Brett drew a square. Stiles squints at the words, tilting his head a little to the left as if that would help him decipher this mess. Two lines are crossed out too, and Stiles doesn’t even try to figure out what Brett’s written there. The two following lines, however, are mostly readable.

‘And I’m joining up the dots with the—’ the next word is crossed out again, but Stiles is pretty sure it’s supposed to be ‘moles’. Over it, Brett wrote ‘freckles?’. The line continues with ‘on your chest?/back?/cheeks’. The words after that are crossed out again until a ‘Doesn’t work. Drop it’ in capital letters. Brett usually has an easier time writing a song. However, Stiles can’t shake the feeling that this isn’t one of his usual songs. Not when he’s thinking about all those times Brett was lying next to him in bed, dragging his index finger from one mole to the next, creating intricate patterns on his skin Stiles would love to see.

Licking his lips, Stiles continues reading. There’s a lot of scribbles that don’t make a lot of sense, so Stiles flips the page, sipping on his coffee. The second page looks a lot cleaner. A few arrows are here and there, indicating that lines need to be switched. When Stiles spots the line ‘your lipstick stain is a work of art’, his heart jumps into his throat. Oh god. That’s why Brett didn’t want him to read what he’s currently writing. It’s a song… about them?

“Oh, come on.” Brett laughed, tossing the dark red lipstick he bought at Stiles. “Just do it.”

Stiles twisted the lipstick up and down, studying his boyfriend with a quirked brow then glanced at the piece of paper on his lap. Although Brett had told him more than enough how much he loved his mouth, this was a little over the top, wasn’t it? But Brett kissed him and asked him again, so Stiles put the lipstick on and pressed his mouth to the white paper. It’s not like Brett would actually go through with getting this as a tattoo. Right?

Stiles bites his bottom lip. He would’ve bet every penny he owned that Brett was too high to think straight. Smiling, he brushes a finger over the line. Fuck. This is— it feels so personal, Stiles has the strange feeling as if he’s intruding on something. He glances over his shoulder. Although he’s pretty sure Brett is going to sleep for a little while longer, he can’t help but feel like a kid reading after bedtime with a flashlight under the covers.

‘While I was out, I found myself alone just thinking. If I showed up with a plane ticket.’ Stiles closes his eyes and chuckles. Yeah. Right. If.

“You want me to do what?”

Brett grinned at him, fidgeting with the envelope in his hands. It’s quite a rare occurrence to see Brett this nervous. He had been the calm one before leaving for Australia. He’d held him in his arms, had kissed his forehead, promising him they’d last. And they did. They did last. And now Brett stood in front of him, a plane ticket in his hand, asking Stiles to come to Australia with him.

“I love you,” Brett said, sitting down next to him. “Every passing day, I woke up alone, and I realized…” He trailed off, twisting the envelope between his fingers. “I don’t want to be without you.” So, the obvious thing to do was asking him to move to another continent.

Stiles ran his fingers through his hair. “I— I’m…”

“You can study criminology or psychology in Sydney… or you don’t have to do anything. Money isn’t a—”

“It’s not about that.” Brett’s face fell at his words, and Stiles’ heart hurt. “I love you, Brett. I do, but my dad…”

“Wants you out of this town.” Brett rubbed a hand against his thigh, still holding onto the envelope with the plane ticket as if it’s the only thing keeping him afloat.

Stiles quirked a brow. “You talked to him?”

“I wouldn’t just kidnap you, Gorgeous.” Gorgeous. It was Brett’s favorite word for him, and Stiles couldn’t understand why. It didn’t make any sense.

Stiles eyed the envelope in Brett’s hands. “You… you want me to live with you?”

“I want us to live together.”

Live together. With Brett. On a completely different continent. Stiles swallowed, pressing his lips together. His gaze locked onto the envelope. Living with Brett in Australia. Away from his dad. His friends. The horrors of Beacon Hills. He wants you out of this town. “Yes.” Stiles looked up again, watching Brett’s eyes brighten as if he’d stolen the stars straight out of the sky. Smiling, heart hammering against his chest, he reached for the envelope.

Brett pulled it away, grinning. “I’m keeping that.”

“You scared I’m changing my mind?”

“I’m worried you’ll misplace it.” Brett grinned, curling his hand around the nape of Stiles’ neck. He pulled him close, kissed him hard, and smothered every single doubt before it could even manifest.

Stiles taps the notebook, remembering how he never saw the ticket until Brett gave it to him shortly before take-off a week later. That whole night, Brett guarded this stupid envelope like a mad person. Stiles has been too excited to think about it at the moment, but now… it seems a little odd. Furrowing his brows, he sips his coffee and wonders if he’s maybe thinking a little too much about that night. Maybe Brett really was terrified that Stiles would change his mind, but he didn’t want to admit it. It was a big step, after all.

Shaking his head, Stiles flips the page.

I know you’re reading this, Stiles.

Stiles almost chokes on his coffee. Unsure whether to laugh or hide his face in Brett's too large shirt. Fucking hell, he feels as if he's been caught stealing cookies before dinner.

Show some patience and put the notebook down.

Stiles has never been good with rules. He enjoys bending them too much. Also, Brett doesn't mind his input on his songs, so it's not like his boyfriend would really be mad about him snooping. He flips the page, ignoring the request like the good boyfriend that he is. The next page looks a lot more structured. The song seems to be complete as well. There’s just an empty space for a title. Compared to the other pages, there’s not a lot of scribbles or words blacked out. The song he reads, however, cannot be about them even though Stiles remembers everything about that night — how Stiles was walking into the club with his friends, how three people actually asked for his name. He remembers saying “trouble” for some stupid reason, laughing as Danny mocked him for it. He remembers Jackson rolling his eyes. He remembers Brett leaning against the wall.

‘You’re way too cool’. Bullshit, Stiles was almost shitting his pants when he walked up to Brett. Also, way too cool? He? In what world? Because Brett must have written this song while on something. He cannot live in a completely different reality than Stiles, right? Right?

Stiles pulls his legs to his chest, balancing the notebook on his knees, and continues to skim the lines. ‘How did we end up talking in the first place?’ He can’t help but chuckle at that. Lydia. That’s how they ended up talking. Stiles would’ve never walked over to Brett on his own.

“Then talk to him!” Lydia rapped her nails against the table, gesturing in Brett’s general direction with her other hand. “What’s the worst that can happen?”

Stiles almost laughed. “He could not talk to me… like the first time we met.”

“Didn’t you save his life twice between then and now?” Jackson pointed out, leaning forward on the barstool.

Lydia rolled her eyes. “Trust me.” She grabbed his shoulders and spun him around, not so gently shoving him in Brett’s direction. “He’s not going to turn you down.”

And he didn’t. He fucking didn’t. Stiles still has no clue how he managed to lock someone like Brett down, but reading this song… Brett thinks the same thing. How? How could someone like Brett say that ‘I’m a six and he’s a ten’. In what world does that make any sense? Now, it’s not like Stiles considers himself bad-looking in any way. He’s grown into himself. Surviving all the shit he did gave him more than a little confidence boost. That doesn’t make him a ten, though, especially not in comparison with Brett fucking Talbot.

‘How did we end up here?’ is a very good question. Even after living with Brett for three months and dating him for over a year, Stiles still wakes up, wondering which one of the Gods he sacrificed something to deserve this. Or maybe this is just some deity taking pity on him, trying to make up for the horror that was the nogitsune possession. But does it really matter? He’s with Brett, and he loves Brett so much it actually hurts. In a good way.

Stiles flicks to the next page and curls both hands around his mug. He raises a brow. It’s the song he’s read first. But it’s the complete version, no arrows, no blick lines, no scribbles. Stiles sips his coffee, smiling a little. He loves Brett’s songs. They’re all so personal as if he somehow manages to put his heart on the page. ‘While I was out, I found myself alone just thinking / If I showed up with a plane ticket / And a shiny diamond ring with your name on it’ — Stiles blinks. Wait, what? His chest tightens, and he swallows, lowering his mug. Confused, he grabs the notebook as if that would somehow change the lyrics he’s just read.

A shiny diamond ring.

“Ever heard of the saying curiosity killed the cat?”

Stiles jumps in his chair, almost spilling the coffee all over Brett’s notebook. He saves it last second, spilling the warm liquid over his legs and the chair instead. Clearing his throat, Stiles puts the mug down and turns around to look at Brett. Although he’s trying his best to look innocent, he’s been caught in the fucking act and there’s no way out but through. “Morning, Babe.”

Huffing out a breath, Brett snatches the notebook from him. “It was supposed to be a surp—” Brett cuts off, staring at the page Stiles has read last. “Oh.”

Oh? Oh? That doesn’t feel like a sufficient reaction for a line like that. “Tell me you didn’t.”

Brett flips the notebook shut and clears his throat. “Well…” Swallowing visibly, Brett runs his fingers through his hair. “Lori told me not to do it.”

“Oh my god.” Stiles presses a hand to his chest, mostly because he’s sure his heart stopped beating for a hot second. “Brett…”

“I didn’t do it!”

“But you wanted to.”

“Yeah, well…” It’s not often to see Brett lost for words, but he trails off all over again and looks over his shoulder at the ocean. He takes a deep breath. “I told you... staying away just—” Brett shakes his head, knuckles turning white around the notebook. “Being separated from you isn’t in the cards for me. Not anymore.”

Stiles licks his lips, brushing the coffee off his leg absentmindedly. No. A life without Brett isn’t right. Not for him. Not anymore. The ocean. Their own little beach. This house. It doesn’t matter to him. He would live in a rundown apartment somewhere in the middle of nowhere as long as he’s living there with Brett. Stiles takes a deep breath and gets to his feet. “Do you still have it?”

Brett blinks. “Yes.” He tilts his head to the side, scrutinizing him carefully. “Why?”

“If it has my name on it…” Stiles makes a short dismissive gesture, shifting on his feet a little. Sure, Brett seemed to have changed his mind about asking him back then, but he still has the ring, and he’s still sure about them. He clears his throat. “I would… love to wear it.”

For a very long moment, Brett doesn’t say a word. He’s just staring at him, looking suddenly a lot taller than his 6.2, or maybe Stiles simply feels terribly small. It’s hard to tell. All he wants is for Brett to say something. Anything, really. Brett swallows again then slips his hand in the pocket of his sweatpants. “Okay.” Nodding very slowly, Brett pulls out a ring. It’s a dark grey, almost anthracite, with a small stone in the middle of the band. He steps closer, reaching out his hand.

Stiles steps closer as well, fidgeting a little. “You’re keeping the ring in your pocket?”

“I’m living with a guy who is too nosy for his own good,” Brett smirks, but when his fingertips brush the back of Stiles’ hand, his expression softens, “and he should be punished instead of rewarded.” He pulls him closer still, running the knuckles of his free hand over Stiles’ cheek. “You’re lucky I woke up in a very good mood today, so I’m willing to ignore it.”

Anxiety slams into him like a tidal wave, but Stiles laughs, curling his fingers into Brett’s sweatpants. “That’s awfully kind of you.”

Brett hums in agreement, and when his fingertips brush against his left hand, Stiles is seconds away from a nervous breakdown. This is a thing. This is actually happening. Brett raises Stiles’ hand to his mouth and kisses his palm. It’s the ghost of a touch, but Stiles is pretty sure he’s never felt something so intense as this. “I love you,” Brett tells him, slipping the ring onto Stiles’ finger.

It fits perfectly, and Stiles can’t help but feel complete with the cool metal around his ring finger. He twists it once then pulls Brett closer by his sweatpants with both hands. “I love you too,” he says, leaning up to press a quick to the corner of his mouth.

Humming quietly, Brett wraps his arms around him and kisses the top of his head.

Stiles closes his eyes. If this is going to be his forever, Stiles can’t wait to live it.

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