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nexusnyx · 1 year

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i'll tell you my sins | b.b.

SUMMARY: If religion was the safe haven where Bucky found reasons to be alive and see the good in this world again, loving you was where he found the freedom to be more than just expectations once again. Human emotion, connection and need more than anything else. Also, devotion. Bucky already understood that one, but with you, it reached heights he never dreamt of before.

⚠️ This work is intended for 18+ audiences. Minors, DNI. Explicit depictions of sex. Religious theme. Smut. I do not allow for my work to be copied, translated, or reuploaded on any other platform. | WC: [7.5k]

Everything about her felt forbidden.

From the moment he met her to the moment they befriended.

Every step of the way, every interaction, smile, deep conversation outside the church, random encounters in the city—Bucky knew it. He was aware of it, and yet, he did it anyway. He fell for the power in your voice, for the mind behind those eyes, for the soft and electrifying touch of your hands. Bucky was presented with temptation and he fought it until he longer wanted to. Until all that was left inside of him was desire, longing, and need. Temptation won, but only because there was no game anymore: Bucky was presented with you in his life, and for the first time in many long years, his life expanded once again.

From the moment Laura brought you to the Church's congregation party for the holidays and introduced you, he knew he should stay away.

It was the eyes.

Laura pointed at you, and said, "Father, this is Y/n, my best friend who I'm always talking about."

He had been polite back then. Bit down on his usual winning smile when meeting new people because something about the glint in your eyes hooked a piece of his chest when they met his.

Bucky had given you the polite smile, and said. "I've heard quite a lot about you. Nice to meet you, I'm Father James."

He extended his hand, which you shook without breaking eye contact.

Then, you said: "Nice to meet you, Father," and Bucky's insides burned despite the cold weather surrounding him.

That day, he couldn't escape fast enough.

You were a friend of one of his congregates, so there was no way he could be rude, but every time he glanced in the direction where you were, talking and smiling with other people who frequented the church, your eyes met his and Bucky felt like a deer caught in the headlines.

An animal in the jungle, like one of his favorite documentaries—he suddenly understood the prey when they felt the eyes of tigers and lions on them.

Frozen.

Bucky's throat felt dry every time you did it. You looked at him over the rim of your cup, and it was like your eyes searched for something, and they could see beyond his cassock and coat.

Whatever you were looking for, Bucky wanted no part in helping you find out.

She'll be gone by the end of the day, he thought all night long. There's no need to worry.

If only he knew.

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ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ — ✞ —

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It was a fun discovery to learn that while you believed in nothing, you believed in everything at the same time.

It took Bucky three months of meeting you outside the Church when you picked up Laura from the masses and having brief, but sweet exchanges with you to accept the fact that you were a really nice person.

Funny, intelligent, sweet.

He stopped escaping whenever you were around. Stopped running away whenever Laura brought you by force to one of the fairs or events, and surrendered with ease to the reality of it all: apart from your non-belief, you seemed like someone he'd be close friends with.

Which is where you two ended up after he found you drunk at the city square and walked you home.

That was the first conversation ice-breaker. And from then on, Bucky simply accepted you.

Which meant you know popped up outside the church with good beer and the newest thing you were reading about regarding space to talk to him.

For those visits, you usually showed up at the end of the day, after your work hours. You stayed for a couple of hours talking to him about nonsensical things until a real topic was approached and you two shared things that Bucky forgot he thought about sometimes.

"You know, these are starting to feel like my own confessional," he offered.

You chuckled, hiding behind your beer. He still saw the way your nose scrunched. "I don't know if that's supposed to be a compliment or not."

"It is!" He laughed. "Why wouldn't it be?"

"Why wouldn't—Father. C'mon. Those things are creepy as hell."

"First of all: blasphemy. Second of all—stop laughing, I'm serious. That was very blasphemous." He adored listening to your silly laughter. "And second of all: they are not creepy. They're just... methodic."

"Yeah, the method being 'scare people until they talk'. I'll give it to the Church: clever, at least."

He's thinking about that day and the things you said about the hour of Twilight when he hears the doorbell.

Bucky halts everything he's doing.

It couldn't be you.

He looks at the clock—00:52.

Fuck.

What were you doing here?

This week had been hell, both figuratively and literally.

The tragedy that happened in the city and the heartache that followed everyone like a dark cloud ended up inside his church, as darkness usually does. It's where it goes to be diluted, but being the tool of change as he is, Bucky's the one who ends up feeling like a truck ran over his back.

It couldn't be you.

Bucky heard from Laura about how pissed off you were about everything. 'Religious people and their ways of meddling in people's lives and their bodies and their ways of handling life', as you claimed, and everything wrong attached to it.

He hadn't seen you around the city all week long.

"James Buchanan!"

That is definitely your voice.

Bucky swears under his breath, puts on the first hoodie he sees, and doesn't even bother checking on his reflection to know he looks like shit.

He's tipsy and tired, and there's no need to bother putting out his tobacco before he goes downstairs to open the back door for you.

Out of all the people who could see him in this state, you'd be the last one to judge him.

When he opens the door, he sees you're on the same boat as he is.

Tired, and trying to cope.

He sighs, opening the door wider. "Thought you had eloped town by now."

"I unfortunately am stuck to this hell hole."

Turning around, he sees you taking off your boots and placing them on the shoe rack.

"Put on a slipper, it's still wet outside," he tells you. "I was going to bed."

Behind him, he hears the sound of you scoffing. "No, you weren't."

"Yes, I was," he argues.

What follows is silence, and Bucky sighs. You know him too well.

He opens the door that leads to his small herbs garden outside where two chairs are already placed next to each other and waits for you to make yourself at home.

He wonders if it's one of those days.

"You know... you're really nice to talk to, Father James."

He kind of hated when you called him that. It felt teasing. Laced in the taste of wine.

"Do you?"

"I do. You don't shy away from answering questions. People nowadays don't wanna have conversations. It's exhausting. You, though—you... think about it. Answer me. I can talk without feeling like I'm being judged—"

"Oh, sometimes you definitely are."

He likes your laughter. The more it sounds like this—free and caught off guard, the more delicious it is.

"I'll take your word for it. That was just me wanting to thank you for being a nice ear, I guess."

"The same goes for you."

It's becoming more and more common for Bucky to be stuck in a memory of you before reality calls him back to the moment.

The door clicks behind him and he looks over his shoulder to see you holding two beers, a cigarette in one hand, and the tiredness in your shoulders.

Dropping your body to the chair next to his, you hand him the beer and then light up your cigarette.

For a while, all you two do is sit there sharing sips of your drinks and looking at the brick wall ahead of you. Bucky's hyper-aware of you and your movements, as always, and notices from the corner of his eyes when you start distracting yourself with the new flowers in his garden.

It's when he sees a single tear running down your cheek that his body comes alive.

Bucky feels alert in a second.

Sick to his stomach.

He wants to reach out and clean the tear from your cheek, but it wouldn't take away the pain that let it fall.

He waits, though, because he knows you wouldn't be here unless you wanted to talk about it.

Then it hits him—she trusts me.

He has to swallow that pill down with large gulps because it would get stuck in his throat otherwise.

He remembers as clear as day hearing you say how hard it was for you to trust people. To let people in.

"Sometimes, I barely want most people in this town to know I'm a human being. The less they see of me the better, you know? They're just—fucking vultures. Waiting for a sign of weakness to start roaming your body and getting to pick it apart."

Through the sips of his beer, Bucky wonders how many people have seen you cry other than him.

You clear his throat next to him, and all thoughts are vacant from his mind.

He turns his head to you, attention solely focused.

"Did you do a mass?" You ask, voice rough as sandpaper.

You're questioning whether the people who died got a mass this week. Bucky has to breathe through the 'why do you ask, why, but WHY' and simply answers. "I did, yeah."

You nod, sniffle and clear your face in your sleeve. "Cool. That's good."

Bucky feels he'll puke if he doesn't get a little more than that, so he takes a deep breath and reminds himself that he can be brave. "There'll be a lantern reunion at the lake."

You turn to him, eyes red and vulnerable, and Bucky has to grip tighter on the can to stop himself from cleaning your tear-stained cheeks once again. "A what?"

"A lantern reunion. It was Laura's idea, actually," your friend was a blessing to his congregation, and it made Bucky smile a little to think so. "People from the congregation will go in a fortnight to the city lake a little further in the mountains and light up little candles in their names. Push it into the lake as sort of a goodbye and a desire for good passage."

"Into heaven?" you ask, smiling sarcastically.

Bucky's gotten so used to it that it doesn't even rattle him anymore.

"Into anywhere," he answers.

The sarcasm drops from your face like rain does out of nowhere from the sky, and you sigh. "That's nice."

"Is it?"

"It is." You take a sip, and Bucky feels it in his chest the blow before it comes. "Naya would've loved it. Probably reminded her of Tangled or something like that."

The name hits clear as day as part of the list Bucky read on Sunday.

"Was she a friend?" He asks.

You shake your head. "Goddaughter."

Your jawline is sharper than ever before. Razor-sharp. Bucky realizes when he pays attention to more than just your eyes, the usual lovely, deep, and telling eyes, that the rest of your face lacks any of your kindness and softness—you're angry. Properly raging, he imagines.

It's the first time he's seen the emotion on you, and it rattles something in the attics of Bucky's brain.

Ghosts of his past, of guns, violence, and the range that humans could go to.

"Tell me about her," the words fall from his lips, and Bucky feels like prey once more when your eyes snap back to him. "If you want to, of course. I—I'd like to hear it."

For a moment, you only watch him, eyes searching all over his face.

"Why?" You ask.

Bucky shrugs his shoulder, sipping a little more. "Because... offering my condolences won't do any good, although you do have them. And talking about the occurrence serves no purpose, either." Both of those options are weak at best. "Hearing about who your goddaughter was, on the other hand, sounds nice." He wonders how close you two were. Was she the daughter of a best friend? Bucky knew you had no sisters. "D'you have sisters?" He asks to confirm. "I thought you didn't."

The ghost of a real smile appears on your face. "I don't."

"Right."

"She's—was... she was my best friend's daughter. Hugh." The smile turns more real than ghost-like. "He and I have been friends since middle school."

Wow. That's longer than Bucky's been in this town. "That is a long time."

"Not that long, c'mon Father. Don't call me old."

Bucky laughs. "You're not a sweet summer child, that's for sure."

"Wow!" You say, joining him in laughter.

"Your generation is a mystery to me, I'll tell you that."

"Ugh—there you go again with 'your generation'. You're not that much older than me, Father," you give him a pointed look.

Bucky hums. "I beg to differ. There's more than a decade bridging this," he gestures between you and him.

"Fine, old man. Whatever you say," you chuckle, and sip the rest of your beer, crushing the can in your hands. "Anyway. Hugh's not usually here—he works two towns over most of the time."

"Is he married?" He asks out of curiosity.

You shake your head. "Nope. Naya's mom was a fling."

"Got it." From that, he deduced you had a lot to do with the girl while growing up. "Was she a lot like you?"

You laugh. "A mix of Hugh and me, yeah. I spoiled her quite a lot."

Bucky smiles. "Tell me more."

And you do.

Bucky listens to you tell him about Naya, and she comes to life inside his mind.

He saw the picture of everyone involved, but now he can see the glint she had in her eyes, the quirks you mention, the passions in her heart.

He does his best to stay present in the conversation, letting go of any pain related to the tragedy in order to give you a good ear as you mentioned he has.

It hurts almost as much as if he was thinking about it all.

The oscillations in your smile between heartbroken and sad, and heartfelt. He feels the changes like shrapnel under his skin.

After a few more beers, the talk changes every now and then. From kids to raising them without parents, to the dangers surrounding newer generations—like always, talking to you is a rollercoaster of topics, and Bucky thinks he's done a good job of taking your mind out of the dark places it was.

Until you stop, look at the wall in front of you again, and the tears start streaming down again.

Bucky's heart breaks all over the wet ground, getting dirt all over the pieces.

He's closing the distance between your bodies before he thinks better of it.

His arms wrap around your shoulders and you bury your face in his chest, letting go of your pain in the safe space of his arms.

Bucky lets you cry for as long as you need to, and when the quiet sobs diminish to only your sniffling, he still holds you close.

"I feel... like barbed wire. I don't know." Your voice is thick with emotion, and Bucky squeezes around you subconsciously. "There's so much rage inside me, Buck."

"That's okay. It's the normal thing to fill you."

"You wouldn't say that if you knew all the things I'm thinking. I—I'm not the best person ever, but the things I'd do right now..."

Bucky shakes his head. You're human, he thinks. "You're a good person even with those thoughts."

"You don't know that," you argued.

"I do, though," Bucky counters. "All the things you want are a response, not an initiative. That's how I know."

At that, you stay in silence. Bucky feels you moving your head—before, you had your forehead resting against his chest, but now you move your head to the side and lay your cheeks against him, making yourself comfortable.

"You'd judge me, though," your voice is barely above a whisper. "They're horrible things."

Bucky scoffs. "I've done my fair share of horrible things in life, Y/n. I'll never be in any position to truly judge someone else," he tells you.

Then it hits him—I trust her too.

"I don't believe that," you whisper.

"It's the truth." Bucky's past is his own, but he allows you to have this. "I was a tool for a long time, one that did many wrong things. I hardly think that you wanting to kill the people who did this with your bare hands is something so atrocious."

"I'd think you'd judge upon murder, Father."

"Not my place to do so," and if he was being honest with himself, never would be. The things he believed in were symbolic.

"Is this what a confessional feels like?" you ask with a chuckle.

Bucky rests his head on top of yours. "It's the idea."

"I like it. It's not so bad." You take a deep breath, and Bucky feels it.

I like it too, he thinks. Why does it feel mutual?

"D'you want some food?" he asks. He needs something to do with his hands that doesn't involve holding you.

It takes you a moment to answer. "Sure." You pull your head back a few inches to look up at him, and the smile he sees in your eyes takes his breath away. "Thanks, Father."

This feels as holy as any of my prayers.

Bucky feels dizzy.

"Thanks for trusting me," he answers, and then lets you go. His arms feel empty and cold the minute they leave your frame. "C'mon. I'll make us sandwiches."

"That's not food," you argue behind him.

"It is in this house," he rolls his eyes, knowing you're just doing it to tease him. "Ungrateful youth, I swear."

"I'm not being ungrateful, I'm being factual. You know, back during the Roman Empire in Grece, they..."

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ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ — ✞ —

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The night of grief changes nothing and everything at the same time.

Bucky knew you were a person beneath all the exterior of perfection, but it takes seeing you cry for him to realize why he deemed everything he saw to be that way—he saw beauty even in your imperfections. He met you by chance, befriended you by fate, and because the Universe wrote you and him to be this way, something about your existence read as beautiful from top to bottom. Breathtaking. It never occurred to him that he'd find something else to look at and see unadulterated and raw light, but there you were. Whether it was talking to friends, working, running past him at eight in the morning, or crying in his arms, the aura around you glowed in holy light, and Bucky had only one night of absolute existential crisis before acceptance washed over him.

He might have found his peace in god, but the god he believed in never excluded the Nirvana existing in love.

Accepting things as they were hurt much less.

— ✞ —

Everything about him felt holy.

The whole month you stayed away from him, that's all you could think about.

Bucky felt holy. His blue eyes on you, the gentleness in his words, and the shy cocking of his neck whenever he was under the light of a compliment—holy, holy, holy.

That's why you hated how much you desired to corrupt all the purity within every thought permeated by him.

It made you a little sick at first. Desiring him and still talking to him normally as if you didn't touch yourself to thoughts of Bucky fucking you and stretching you around his cock while filth dripping from his lips was a hard task, but no one could say you were one to shy away from a challenge.

All of that goes away when he cooks for you.

The shame in wanting him.

From that day on, you allow your mind to drift wherever it pleases.

To his words, his eyes, his lips, the feeling of how strong his arms were — how did I miss that, what is that damn black thing hiding, why does it feel so warm and firm, oh my god — and anything in between. His voice. The way he curses under his breath as if Jesus is not listening if he talks low enough. How much lower his voice can go.

Letting all those thoughts roam free is both a blessing and a curse.

When you see him the day following a dream where Bucky did all the things your mind wanted him to and a bit more, you realize where the curse part walks in.

It's hard looking him in the eye when you have vivid images of his hand gripping your neck. It's sad that all you have is images, but they're more than enough to make you take a step back every now and then.

You can't get wet if you don't get a whiff of his perfume.

Can't feel embarrassed and hot all over if he doesn't make one of his silly jokes under his breath.

It takes you a few weeks of escaping him here and there before you receive it, at 11:50 pm on a Monday night:

What would you say if I told you I need my confessional bubble?

The message stares at you, and you stare back.

The feeling of his hug around you comes to you like the scent of someone being dragged by the wind.

Where are you?

The church. I was organizing some stuff. Come over?

Not one to say no to him, you drive there with your heart beating in your palms and the familiar knot on your throat of someone haunted by their own thoughts.

At the church, you find Bucky with a glass in his hands and all the pictures and remains of the shrines packed in one corner.

"Evening, Father."

Bucky turns around sharply, and you see that he's not drunk nor tipsy yet. His look is sober, and his eyes lighten in color when they see you.

"Hey." He points to the stuff on the floor. "I'm gonna put this in the back. I'll be back in a minute—you're very fast. How fast did you drive?"

Probably too fast because I was anxious. "Maybe you're just slow, Father James."

Bucky's eyes narrow, and your mind goes oh-oh. He looks at you with narrowing eyes, but then the mirth is back on his face. "Ha ha." He picks up the boxes. "I'll be back."

"Won't I burn in your absence?" You call after him, trying to contain your smile.

Bucky looks over his shoulder just so you can see him rolling his eyes.

You chuckle. Was there even a need to be nervous?

This is Bucky.

James. Father James. He's a good guy, and a great friend, and a pretty funny person for someone who is so mysterious.

In his absence, you start walking aimlessly through the church.

You're here very rarely. Paying attention to the details of it is not the first thing in your mind but, with nothing to do, you notice all the beauty in the place: the colorful glasses, how polished and shiny the wood benches and every other wood surface looks, and then it catches your eyes.

On the far right corner, close to the altar, there it is.

The confessional.

You're walking to it before you notice what you're doing.

It's bigger than you expected.

Your hand comes up to touch the wood and its patterns—the velvet drape which closes one of the sides is blood red, and you raise both eyebrows at it.

Gorgeous.

The other side is closed with a wooden door, though. You imagine it's where the priest enters, and because you're friends with the one who runs this church, you let yourself in.

The space is big enough to fit two adults if they're squeezed close together.

You take a seat, looking over the side where you can see very little from the open spots in the wood.

Then, you hear his footsteps coming back out there.

"Y/n?" He calls out, sounding confused.

You think about coming out, but then...

Confessional bubble.

You open the door minimally, put only your hand outside, and wave. "Here," you singsong.

There's a second of silence in which you wonder if Bucky is genuinely offended for the first time about something you're doing, but then you hear his laughter approaching.

You hear his body passing through the drapes and sitting next to you.

"Not where I'd expect to find you," he says from the other side.

It's with the first sentence that you realize what a terrible, miscalculated, poor idea this was.

Your senses go from 0 to 100 in a second. They're all tunneled to his voice, and you can smell his perfume permeating the small space.

"Y/n?"

"I was curious," you answer. Your voice is low, and you swallow down the nervousness. It should be fine. What could go wrong? "Plus... this seems like a cool bubble."

"I told you it was, you never trusted me in that," he answers.

You chuckle. "I didn't know about all the velvet." And the stripping of your senses. God, I feel dizzy.

"It's charming, isn't it?"

You are, your traitorous mind replies. "Yup." You take a deep through your mouth and let it out slowly. "What was in your mind, young padawan?"

Bucky laughs. "Wrong religion."

"Right, my bad—what's in your mind, my sheep?"

"You're not so bad at this."

"And you're great at deflecting," you bite back, smiling already. Your body relaxes on its seat, and you start picking on your t-shirt. "I thought you wanted to talk."

"I did." Bucky hums. "Didn't think you wanted to, though."

What? "What?"

"I was gonna ask you to go grab a bite with me so I could hear how you've been doing these past couple of weeks. I haven't seen much of you," his voice sounds a little small, and you hate yourself for a second. "I imagine you're busy."

Does trying to get rid of thoughts of your naked count as busy?

You bite your bottom lip nervously. "Not that busy," you reply. "Just... processing."

"Right. I thought about that too," he says. Bucky takes a deep breath and you can hear that too. "I just... missed your company."

You smile at that. "Awn. Thanks, Buck. I missed you too."

"Did you?"

"Of course," you say. "You know I like your company better than most. More than, like, 99% of this town, for sure."

"I'm flattered," he chuckles. "I thought I did something wrong, that's all. I—you'd tell me if I had, right?"

That ties knots inside your brain. Your neurons seem to clash with each other, and you look from side to side trying to find out if that was a joke.

"What could you possibly have done to me?" You ask with laughter.

"Dunno." Bucky seems to be thinking, so you wait. "I can be annoying sometimes."

"Have you met me?"

He laughs again. "You're peculiar."

"Most people go for 'annoying'."

"Most people are pussies," he replies back so quickly that you burst out laughing.

"Father James!" You tell him in a reprehending tone. "This is not the place for such language."

"I think you'll find out that we're in the only place of holy grounds where you can say whatever the fuck you want," he chuckles.

"Is that so?"

You can almost see him shrugging his shoulders. "It's how I always felt."

"Cool. This is the blind spot, then?"

"Exactly." Bucky seems to be tapping on the wood, and you recognize his nervous tick. "Maybe you can use the blind spot to tell me why you've been avoiding me, then."

Shit.

The silence is as much of a confession as you trying to play it dumb would be.

"Y/n..."

You hate how he makes your name sounds like a plea.

"You didn't do anything wrong," you tell him. "I swear."

There's a heartbeat of silence, and Bucky seems to believe you. "Okay." The sound of a thud tells you he rested his head against the wall at the back, and you do the same. "So... did something happen? To you, I mean."

Yeah, you did.

Thinking that's not the reply he wants, you hum thoughtfully. "I'm... trying to work with life's limitations."

There's another moment of quiet, and then Bucky snorts. "That was vague as shit, Y/n."

"It's the truth!" you laugh.

"I know it is, but it doesn't explain anything," he counters. "What limitations?"

How do I answer this? How do I tell him it's him without putting him under the spotlight? I don't wanna lose you, Bucky. I like what we have. I like this.

You like him.

"No judgments. Remember?" He asks.

Fuck. Fine, here goes nothing, you think. "I... have been thinking a lot. About someone. In ways that I'm not sure this person would want me to."

Out of all the silences, this is the heaviest one.

You hear him breathing in deep, and it feels like his body has strings attached to yours.

"You're insecure about having... feelings for this person?" His voice is rough. Carefully curated out of any emotions.

You realize you're speaking to Father James rather than Bucky.

"Kinda," you reply, surprised that you don't care about the switch in roles.

"Why would they be bothered?"

The million-dollar questions.

Your palms are sweating. Your body has the low humming of when blood is pumping everywhere at a higher speed, and all the anxiety you had when you first saw his message rushes back.

"'Cause I'm pretty sure they'd view it as... something bad," you reply.

"Feelings are never bad."

"No?"

"No. They're natural. The person might not want them, but if they view them as bad, that means they're not worthy of it."

"No—what I meant is—maybe they would feel bad about being on the receiving end of it."

"Again, that makes no sense. Why would they be offended by it?"

"I don't know. 'Cause they don't want me?"

"That's their loss. Still doesn't mean your feelings are bad. They could be unreciprocated, but never bad."

"Maybe that's what I'm scared of," you confess. Fuck, this thing works. "I don't wanna face the fact that it could never be mutual."

"That is scary," he whispers. You still hear it.

"Yeah."

"You'll never know, though. Unless you tell them, you can't know if it is or not."

You laugh, humorlessly. "I don't think I need to. Not for this."

"Why not?" asks Bucky.

"Because the chances of him wanting me or anything are slim to none."

"I find that hard to be true, Y/n."

"What percentage of priests lead a personal life outside their calling, Father James?"

The question comes out breathless and it finishes the job of setting your body on fire.

On the other side, the silence is deafening. You can't see him, but your mind paints the picture easily: Bucky standing there, frozen in his spot as the realization dawns on him.

Then, his reply comes and what was left of your body turns to dust.

"A low percentage. But some of us do."

You have to bite your bottom lip to swallow a whine. His name still comes out. "Bucky."

"You've been thinking about me all this time and you thought I would be upset about it?" He sounds breathless. Your body is not only alive now, but it's also starting to respond to the drop in his voice.

"They're not very holy thoughts," you chuckle humorlessly.

"Tell me."

Two words and your legs constrict against one another. Your core feels like a furnace, heating up more and more by the second.

"I... are you serious?"

"Very." Bucky sounds as affected as you. "Tell me what thoughts were so bad they drove you away from me."

"I... I had dreams." You want to touch yourself so badly that you start squirming in your seat. "About you."

All he does is hum in reply.

"You kissed me. And then... you told me I was going to accept all that you wanted to give me. And I said yes. So you started to get... more—of me. You took off my clothes. And said you needed to let out some... steam. To let out some things that have been inside of you."

There, your words were cut short.

The images of Bucky kneeling in front of you and eating you out like he never had a meal before in his life.

"Go on," his voice breaks through the smoke.

It sounds like an order.

Your body shudders, and you try to grip on reality before the dreams take over. "You ate me out." The whisper sounds louder than any of his sermons you had the pleasure of hearing. "And..." I can't say it. I can't. You can feel the wetness dripping to your panties, and you have to sit on top of your hands to stop them from starting to roam your body.

"Finish it."

Where did he learn to command people like that?

"I asked to do the same." How could you not? All you wanted was to choke on the weight of Bucky on your tongue. "And then you fucked me. Slowly. And... kept telling me about how long it had been. How good it felt to stretch me out." Why am I going into details? You whimper. "Bucky."

"Is that why you were away? You dreamt about me being inside of you and that's it—your brain stopped working around me?"

"I got off to those dreams too many times to not think about them when I saw you."

"Fuck." Bucky must move next to you because you hear the sound of his clothes ruffling. "You touched yourself thinking about them?"

"Yeah."

You hear his breath intake, and the next sound drops your heart to your feet.

Bucky gets up, the drapes ruffle and then, the door of the confessional is opening.

The sight of Bucky standing tall over you with his black t-shirt tucked inside his pants and the tent of his dick straining against his slacks makes your mouth dry before it starts to water.

"Show me," says Bucky. Then he drops to his knees in front of you, reaches both hands to your knees, and places them there. He looks up into your eyes to ask, "Can I?" and you nod, dumbly and shaking, as Bucky spreads your knees open. You're wearing loose pants, and his hands go further up to their hem so he can pull them down.

Allowing him to leave you in nothing but your panties feels like a fever dream.

With your pants pooling in your ankles, Bucky lets hands drag on the skin of your legs and thighs.

"You're right," he says. "It's been years." His hands reach your waist, and your shaking comes to a halt with the firmness that they touch your pelvis bones. "And yet, I think I've thought more about pleasure and connection these past months than I did my whole life." Bucky moves his body closer until he's nestled between your legs, and when his head inches closer to your cunt you realize what he's about to do, whining at the thought. "I dreamt about this, too."

He presses his nose on the hood of your pussy, inhaling deeply and making your legs turn from solid to liquid.

Bucky runs his nose there, and when he hums against your core, you feel it inside of you. "You smell so fucking good, dove."

"Oh, god."

Bucky gropes your ass and shakes his head. "No. Forgot my name already?"

"James, please. Please," you whine, your legs coming up to his shoulders.

He lets you, helping your legs to secure around his neck, and when you look down and see he's smiling, you know you're fucked.

"It's been a while, so let me take my time. I think I still remember how to do this," Bucky says.

Then, he pushes your panties to the side and groans out loud.

"So fucking wet for me. Shit." He pushes his nose again, getting it wet with your slick. "Fuck," he dives in.

Bucky's tongue gives gentle licks against your clit, as if savoring it first.

When he feels your legs spreading wider and he has more room to work with, he truly starts his job. His tongue licks on your folds, then dips from the bottom all the way up, licking a stripe across your cunt before his mouth attaches itself to your clit.

Bucky sucks on the hard nub with his tongue, alternating between slow and hard-pressured jabs to quick flicks of his tongue from side to side.

Your hands are covering your mouth to stop the screams from coming out.

He slurps on the slick and the more the works his tongue on your clit and then pushes down to your open cunt, the wetter you get.

Time ceases to exist with Bucky knelt between your legs.

He goes slow, then fast, then very slow just to hear your whines getting louder. He laughs in your pussy, and the vibrations crawl up inside of you.

At one point he looks up and with a hard grope on the back of your thighs gets your attention on him again.

His beard is glistening, wet. He's smiling like he's seeing something funny for the first time in ages, and when he asks, "Do you like penetration?" as if he doesn't know the answer, you feel like crying.

"Please."

He takes pity on you. "It's okay, dove." Bucky's right hand leaves your legs and his fingers join his mouth between your legs. He coats his fingers in your slick before he pushes the middle one all the way in, slowly at first, then he removes it all the way and pushes back in with his tongue.

"Bucky!"

"Hmhm," he hums against your pussy. "Is this what you dreamt of, dove?" He asks before latching onto you again and sucking on your clit like it's a lollipop.

The coil in your lower stomach seems like a rubber band ready to snap, but you need more.

"Bucky. Bucky," you call.

"Hm?"

"I wanna cum with you inside me. Please?"

Bucky's hand squeezes involuntarily on your leg. He looks up and kisses your inner thigh. "You do?"

"Please."

"Will you let me take you for a bite afterward since I couldn't help myself and I'm doing everything backward?" He asks, already getting up.

You nod a bit desperately. "I'll let you bite anything, just—please."

He laughs. "Get up."

You do, and it's a tight squeeze to switch places with him, but you two manage. Bucky sits on the place you sat and unbuttons his pants, pulling out his cock from the confine of his briefs.

You step out of your pants and sit on his lap, trying to keep all the feelings daring to pool out inside while you feel like everything about you is already stripped bare in front of him.

"You sure you want this, yeah?" I asked.

At that moment, Bucky pulls you close by his waist. It's almost easy (keyword being almost) to ignore the outline of his hard cock between your legs when he's holding your face like this.

There's barely any light illuminating the inside of the confessional, but there is enough for you to see him glowing. Glistening. Smiling like he's watching something unfold.

He holds your face in his hand and pulls you in for a kiss.

I hadn't kissed him yet.

Bucky kisses you with slow, soft tenderness at first.

It's almost his way of saying he means everything—he means this, and he means what he said about being a part of the cleric who still allows themselves to have a life outside their work.

When his tongue opens up your mouth sinfully, that's when you feel him twitch underneath you.

His arm around your waist pulls you even closer, and you get him. You'd want to merge with him right now if you could.

"Put me inside you," he pulls back his face only a few inches to say those words, then dives in for another kiss.

Your mind is too dizzy with everything that is James to do anything but obey.

You reach beneath you to hold his cock in your hands and guide it to your entrance.

Perhaps you should care that none of you discussed the important things you should have before you let him inside you, raw and deep like this, but all you want is this:

Feeling him stretch you out.

When his tips fit and you can let go, both of you groan at the same time. He's big.

He's thick, and he's leaking, and when the tip pushes in, gliding easy with how wet you are, you have to pull back from his kiss so you can breathe.

Bucky groans louder and hides his face in the crook of your shoulder.

"You're big," you whisper, sliding down further until he's bottomed out. "Oh my..." can't call out for Jesus, but you're still shaking and finding a new reason to worship right there and then. You might be drunk on desire, or drunk on how high Bucky made you by eating you out, or how close you were to cumming before he made you get up. Maybe all of the above. "Father James—feels so good."

The slap comes as a surprise, but the sting and your scream are both pleasurable.

"Don't call me that again," he growls. He bites your neck, and moves his hip for the first time.

"Why not," you whine. It feels so good. You feel so full. "Feel so full, Bucky."

"I know, dove." He bucks his hip upwards, thrusting deep and slow. "You're so fucking tight," his voice is strained, and you pull his face back to yours, cupping his neck. With his eyes on yours, Bucky's face softens. "Feels good?" He asks with another pointed thurst.

You nod, riding him in the same rhythm as his thrusts. "Hmhm."

"You look beautiful on top of me," he mutters, kissing your chin, you cheeks, and your eyelids, each kiss pointed with another deep thrust.

"We're gonna do this again, right?"

Bucky hums, and thrusts harder. FUCK.

"Ah, there it is," he mutters, as if talking to himself. "Was looking for that." He thrusts again, confirming to see if he's found your g spot. The way you clench and moan his name is enough of an answer. "We'll do this many more times. I just—need—fuck, need to do this proper." Bucky pins your hips in place and takes over the movements. "Shouldn't be fucking you, dove. Not here, not like this."

"I'm so fucking wet, Buck," you cry. "You wouldn't let me go home to get off thinkin'—oh—about you—fuck, right there;"

"I wouldn't?"

"Bucky." It's louder than before. Both a moan and a prayer.

His thrusts become more erratic, and Bucky's own moans and prayers start sounding much like yours.

So tight, dove. Fucking made for me. Stop clenching your pussy, Y/n, fuck. I'm gonna fill you up, d'you want that? Hm?

"Don't pull out," you whine.

"No?"

"No." You shake your head. He should, your mind says. I don't care, your body responds, hips going harder to meet his harsh thrusts.

"Want to feel me leaking out of you?"

Fucking hell. Where was this holy mouth hidden? "Yes!"

"Say it," Bucky's grunting, and his forehead is sparkling with sweat, and you feel the sweat dripping down your back.

"Wanna feel you dripping out of me, Buck."

"Fucking—Y/n, I'm gonna cum. Are you close, dove?" He holds you by the neck, and brings your mouth to his. "Tell me how to make you cum. Tell me."

"Hard. Deep."

Bucky's a good listener anywhere. He pins your hip in one place, buries himself as deep as he can go inside of you and mutters about how good it is to feel your cunt stretching out around his cock, then pistons his hips in place just like that, hitting that spot inside of you so mercilessly that you're excused to scream as much as you do.

When you yell that you're gonna cum, all he says is, "Please. Please, dove. Show me. Cum for me. Cum only for me, Y/n."

With another scream that leaves your throat aching, you feel your walls convulsing and your legs shaking as an orgasm knocks you out.

Bucky cums by muffling his own screams in your neck, and you feel the warmth of him spilling inside of you.

If there were any ways for you to not surrender and devote to him, they're all burned and gone.

This feels like the beginning of all things holy for you.

part two →

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thewertsearch · 7 months

Text

TG: i just want to know whats really going on here TG: before i decide to start choppin off the heads of outrageously good looking snoozing dudes [...] TG: something about this doesnt add up

Dave knows Terezi well enough to know he's being fucked with. What's her game?

TG: i dont remember sleeping on this bed TG: or reaching the god tier im pretty sure thats something id remember TG: so is he from the future [...] GC: NOP3!

I think I know what Terezi is trying to do.

This is an offshoot Dave. He's from a doomed timeline, and fate decrees he must die. Even if Dave Prime spares him here, it won't matter in the long run - the game simply can't abide his existence.

Now, when I first heard about this concept, I wondered if there was a way to rules-lawyer your way out of this predicament. Davesprite seems fine, and it's possible that his doom was suppressed or nullified by the Kernelsprite's resurrective properties. It can bring back the dead, so why can't it save a dead man walking?

The Quest Bed is an incredibly powerful device, and its capabilities aren't quite clear yet. This one is designed to resurrect Dave Strider - but can it only resurrect Dave Strider? Will it work for any Player, or any Knight of Time? Is it picky about which Dave Strider it resurrects? Can it undo an alt-Dave's death, or overrule it before it takes effect?

These things are worth looking into. Terezi seems to agree, and she's perfectly willing to sacrifice a few kids in the name of scientific enquiry - lest we forget the last doomed timeline she made.

GC: 1T 1SNT 34SY FOR 4NYON3 TO F4C3 TH31R OWN D34TH GC: 3V3N 1F TH3 CONS3QU3NC3 1S TO TH31R B3N3F1T GC: NOT 3V3N 4NY OF US M4N4G3D TO DO 1T GC: W3LL, 3XC3PT FOR ON3 TG: who GC: T4K3 4 WILD GU3SS!

Vriska, I assume. It's been strongly hinted that she tried to convince Tavros to kill her, and I've been wanting to talk about that for a while.

I think her motivation was pretty clear.

Vriska desperately wants her victims to hate her, but Tavros just wants her to fuck off. He's too passive to make any grand gesture of revenge - so Vriska decides to manufacture one. She needs him to kill her, because then they'll be even, and she can put it all behind her for good.

GC: YOU WOULDNT STOP BUGG1NG M3 [...] GC: 1 TOLD YOU YOU WOULDNT B3 4BL3 TO F4C3 YOUR D34TH GC: 4ND TH4T W4SNT GOOD 3NOUGH FOR YOU! SO H3R3 W3 4R3 TG: what exactly did you do

She cloned you, Dave. She cloned you, dropped the clone on a sacrificial slab, and told you to murder him.

Don't piss off a Scourge Sister.

GC: OK, R3M3MB3R WH3N YOU W3R3 4SK1NG M3 4BOUT TH1S GOD T13R STUFF GC: [...] SO 1 G4V3 YOU 4 CHO1C3 GC: TO F1ND OUT NOW, OR F1ND OUT L4T3R [...] TG: ok but you didnt actually give me a choice TG: you just flipped a coin GC: Y34H GC: 4ND 1 L3FT TH3 D3C1S1ON OV3R TH3 OUTCOM3 OF TH3 FL1P 1N YOUR H4NDS! >:]

Terezi's coin flip happened in the Veil, so it can't split Dave's timeline. Come to think of it, we've never heard about any offshoot timelines in Sgrub's postgame.

Plus, I'm not actually sure if flipping a coin would split the timeline. Each branch we've seen so far has been the result of a conscious decision, rather than an uncertain event.

The current Alpha Timeline was split off from Davesprite's when he made the decision to go back and save John.

The red-suited Dave's timeline was born from his decision to stop DD from stealing the Sburb Beta.

Quest Bed Dave, as we're seeing now, was born from a decision made by Dave during his conversation with Terezi.

#homestuck liveblog #full liveblog #act 5.2 #s99 #3091

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racinginchid3nt · 7 months

Text

I’d Probably Still Adore You | Part 14

Y/N x Lance Stroll, Y/N Best Friend x Pierre

Gasly

In which a night at the club and a game of never have I ever turns into something new

Inspired by 505 - Arctic Monkeys

Warnings: n/a

Previous | Next

————————————————————————

The next morning was filled with awkwardness. Sitting up in bed the events of the past night clouded your mind. Lance showing up, forcing you to the hospital, crashing on your couch, etc.

You weren’t sure how any of this had happened. Hearing steps outside your door, you leave bed and make your way into the kitchen. Sitting on your counter was two cups of coffee, one hot and one iced, and a bag from the cafe around the corner.

Lance stood against your counter, sipping a third coffee. Nodding at you as you entered the space he remarked, “I wasn’t sure if you were a hot or cold coffee person so I got both.”

“Oh uh. Iced is great. Thank you.” You replied.

An uneasy silence feel over the two of you. It seemed he wasn’t quite sure what to say in this situation either. You couldn't blame him, it wasn't exactly a normal standard situation to be in.

Breaking the silence, you said "Thank you for last night. I appreciate it."

"Don't worry about it. It was the right thing to do. How are you feeling? How are your ribs?"

"They've been better."

"Yeah, that was probably a dumb question." He replied. "Did you have anything planned today? You know, before I showed up at your place without an invitation."

"I was planning for more of the same. I've been on leave from work since everything happened. I haven't really left my apartment much, well at all..." You trailed off.

"Well do you want to?" He asked.

"I'm honestly not sure if i'm ready yet."

"Well we can do something here. Got any good movies? What on your watch list for netflix?" He asked.

He made his way back to the couch, the blankets he had slept with folded up on one side of it. Reaching for the remote he started flipping through streaming services.

The shock of seeing him in your apartment still hadn't warn off. Seeing him so settled in, leaning back on the couch while he searched for a good movie, he seemed so at ease. This was certainly not the guy who had dragged you out of the club a few weeks ago, or the one who pulled you into a side room during the banquet. It almost seemed like the guy from Barcelona and the guy you thought you knew were two different people, one overtly sexual and one domesticated and caring.

You grabbed the bag off the counter, finding pastries inside. As you tried to decide which one to eat you heard a familiar song. Making your way back to the living room, you sat on the other side of the couch.

"Twilight?" You asked.

The brown eyed boy look up at you, a grin pulling across his face.

"Everyone likes twilight."

---

As the day passed on, one movie faded into another. At some point he had ordered lunch, and the half eaten pizza lay forgotten on the coffee table. With each movie the two of you had slowly shifted closer to each other.

He watched her pull the edges of her sleeves over her hands. She still had on his sweatshirt from the night before, and while it was his favorite, he couldn't bring himself to ask her for it back. He reached for the blanket next to him, pulling it over the two of them. By the end of the second movie, he noticed her repeatedly shifting around, trying to find a comfortable position for her legs but running into issues from the stitches. She eventually turned slightly on her side, laying them folded up on the couch next to her.

By the halfway point in the third he caved. Pulling her gently into him, he forced her to lean her head onto his shoulder, giving her enough room to fully extend her legs. She was captured by the movie, settling into him immediately without even looking at him. Lance took a chance, curling his arm around her shoulder so her head rested on his chest.

---

The next few days continued in a similar fashion. The two of you cocooned in your own little world in your place. You didn't want to think about how much he had likely spent on ordering food these past few days, but when you had offered to order dinner the first night he seemed truly offended, immediately telling you no.

"Respectfully Y/N, I make good money. I can afford to order some food. Besides, I think my parents would kill me if they found out I ever made a girl pay."

By Wednesday morning it felt almost like a routine, which is probably why it felt so jarring to see his packing up his suitcase when you opened your bedroom door that morning. It was only then that you realized what day it was.

"Morning." He said.

"Morning. Are you um leaving today?" You asked.

"Yeah. My flight to Italy is at noon." He replied.

"Oh."

The same awkward silence from the first morning fell back over the two of you. It felt like someone was breaking you out of your peaceful little bubble. You weren't sure where to go form here. The past few days had been wonderful but it's not like there was anything going on between the two of you. Right?

"I can drop you off at the airport if you want?" You said.

The drive passed quickly, the gentle noise from the radio filling the quiet. As you pulled up to the departures gate, he reached for the handle. Pausing, he turned to look at you.

"Y/N, I'm so sorry." He whispered.

"It's not your fault Lance."

"Maybe not directly, but I definitely contributed, and for that I'm sorry."

Unsure of how to respond, you simple said "Have a safe flight."

Reaching for your hand he gave it a gentle squeeze, before stepping out of the car, backpack in hand, before heading through the airport doors.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A/N: I apologize for the delay in getting this part out. It's been a super busy few weeks for me but I promise there's more coming. Tentatively hoping that I can get at least a few parts out every week

#lance stroll #f1 #f1 fanfic #lance stroll x reader #lance stroll x y/n #lance stroll x you #pierre gasly x reader #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 #formula one #f1 x you #f1 x reader

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smartycvnt · 7 months

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Not Lost, But Found

Title: Not Lost, But Found Pairing: Gale Weathers x Reader Summary: Gale agrees to help a young journalist make a name for herself and finds something unexpected throughout the process. R WC: 2162

"Excuse me, Ms. Weathers," Y/n just barely managed to get out through heavy pants. Gale had half a mind to run off, but she recognized the young woman even as she was hunched over. Y/n was nothing but persistent in Gale's mind. Gale had rejected her pleas for apprenticeship again and again, and yet, Y/n always came back seeking help. This time, Y/n held a magazine in her hand, most likely containing an article that Gale had admittedly already read inside of it. "I did it, I did what you asked. I got myself published, something out in the world for others to read and critique."

"You don't quit, do you?" Gale chuckled as she took the article from Y/n. She read through it one more time, pretending as if it was the first time that she had ever read it. There article was well-edited, but done so without tearing away at the unique things that Y/n's writing brought forward. Gale didn't know much about the music scene that Y/n had been writing about, but she had heard good things from journalists who were in that scene. There wasn't much room for writing about music like that anymore unless she started her own publication, but Y/n had a ways to go until her name held the respect needed to do so. Gale applauded her for branching out into investigative journalism, which Y/n had admitted the first time they met each other wasn't her career focus. However, everybody had to start somewhere and studying under Gale Weathers was Y/n's preferred method.

"No, ma'am," Y/n said as she stood up straighter. Gale took in Y/n's appearance, which had been cleaned up significantly since the last time they had seen each other. She no longer looked like some wannabe undercover journalist with her jeans and hoodie. Y/n wasn't dressed for any galas or big events, but she looked like a respectable professional. Gale wasn't too prideful to admit that Y/n looked good and attractive enough to be put on one of those ridiculous top ten hottest news anchor lists that Gale had once been a frequent flyer of. "And before you ask, I've been picked apart by more people than I care to count and I'm still here."

Gale smirked at Y/n's words as she thumbed through the magazine. Y/n's writing was much more entertaining and painted a better picture than a lot of what Gale had read through. Y/n was able to invoke emotion, which Gale knew was a skill that some people spent years working towards. She would be a fool to reject Y/n again to have the woman study under someone else. Gale loved the idea of being name dropped as Y/n's mentor whenever the woman inevitably won an award for her literary prowess. Sighing, Gale closed the magazine and placed it back into Y/n's hands.

"You're improving. You've been listening to me enough to be half-decent. I can work with that," Gale told her. Y/n looked disappointed for a moment, as if she expected Gale to once again reject her. That look soon changed as Y/n's eyes widened along with her smile. Gale's heart started to beat a little faster with Y/n smiling at her like that. Y/n started to move in like she was going to hug Gale, but the older woman quickly put a stop to it. "Ah, ah, ah. Not so fast, I'm mentoring you. This isn't a friendship, it's just me making sure that you don't end up writing ridiculous fluff pieces of websites like Buzzfeed."

"Nobody really writes there anymore, but, um, thank you Ms. Weathers," Y/n said. Gale pinched the bridge of her nose as she turned away from Y/n.

"Second thing, don't call me that. Gale is fine since we'll be seeing a lot of each other."

Gale hadn't been sure what to expect from Y/n whenever they got to work. The young woman's writing was impressive, even if Gale was appalled by her writing process. The talent was there for Y/n, but it was her presentation that needed work. Gale thought there was something charming about Y/n, something that reminded Gale of Dewey. It was selfish, but Gale wanted to keep that to herself. She lied to herself and Y/n whenever she told Y/n that it was vital that Y/n create a public persona, something aloof and distant from her true self to shield her heart. Y/n had tried it, but Gale found that she started liking Y/n more and more whenever that strategy just didn't take.

"Uh oh, why do you have that look on your face like I just messed something up?" Y/n was a lot of things, but Gale knew the woman wasn't stupid. She could be a bit arrogant and stubborn, but that didn't make her stupid, just difficult. Gale was certain that there had to be a good reason for Y/n to pass up writing for a magazine like Rolling Stone, but for the life of her, she couldn't figure out why. That was the sort of thing that writers like Y/n dreamed about, and Gale just had to sit through a phone call where one of the head editors chewed her out for how her protege rejected them.

"Because I just got off the phone with Rolling Stone, and they're not too happy with you. What the hell did you say to that man?" Gale asked. She leaned against the side of Y/n's desk with her arms crossed over her chest. Gale had learned that stance was the easiest to get Y/n to just say what she was going the most directly.

"They wanted me to write a slam piece, and I said no. He told me that I was making a big mistake, and I said that I didn't want to be known for reaching so low. Then, I might have exchanged some less than respectful words after he commented on who I had chosen to work with." Y/n rubbed the back of her neck awkwardly as she explained herself. Gale's "no bullshit" facade fell when Y/n admitted to defending her. Integrity hadn't been something that Gale had held as virtuous whenever she had been starting out, hence her entire little feud with Sidney in their youth. She had been ambitious and allowed that to corrupt her work, something that Y/n outright refused to do. Her loyalty made Gale's chest warm up, almost uncomfortably.

"I think you're an idiot, but I'm also very impressed. They'll never be able to say you weren't an honest woman, which is more than they can say for me," Gale complimented. Y/n was absolutely beaming at the compliment, which was rare from Gale. Y/n knew that she was a good writer, but it was when Gale made comments on her character that always made Y/n feel the best. "Just don't make a habit of insulting big names because there's not a lot of damage control that I am able to do on my own."

"Yes, ma'am," Y/n said with a mock salute. Gale smiled and let out a small chuckle as she walked back to her own office. She closed the door and leaned back against it as the realization that nobody had made her happy like that in a long time settled in. Gale didn't know how Y/n was doing it, but she feared that their relationship wouldn't be just professional for much longer.

Months went by as Gale pretended that she hadn't slipped up again. She ignored the way that Y/n looked at her, up until the moment when Y/n stopped. Gale started to long for Y/n's attention in a way that Gale hadn't expected herself to for anybody. Not even Dewey had ever managed to drive Gale crazy like that. She felt like she was losing her mind, and not even the anniversary of her first book release was enough to distract her from the raging battle of emotions going on inside of Gale's head.

"It doesn't get easier, does it?" Sidney had been somewhat surprised by Gale sticking so closely to her side during the party. It was a room full of people who were fully prepared to stroke any part of Gale's ego that she wanted, and yet, she had gone straight to the one person who wouldn't give in. At the very least, Sidney had expected the young woman Gale had been gushing about for the past three and a half months to stay at Gale's side. Instead, Sidney watched as Gale eyed the woman from across the room with a sort of jealous look any time that someone else got too close.

"What doesn't get easier?" Gale asked as she turned to face Sidney. She was still watching Y/n out of the corner of her eye as Y/n spoke with some guy at a publishing company in London who had begged Gale for an invitation. She knew that it was the set-up Y/n needed in order to launch her career in the direction she wanted, but that didn't mean Gale wasn't sad about the idea of losing Y/n.

"Losing someone," Sidney answered.

"Dewey has been gone for a long time. The worst part is that I'm used to waking up alone now."

"I wasn't talking about Dewey. You haven't taken your eyes off of that girl all night. Although, from the distance, I'd say you packed her bags for her already," Sidney said as she linked her arm with Gale's. "You should talk to her before you shut her out completely. She looks just as miserable tonight as you do."

"I'm fine," Gale lied. Sidney hummed as she started to walk Gale over towards Y/n. Gale realized what was happening just a few seconds too late. Y/n excused herself to meet the two women halfway across the room. "You seem to be very popular tonight."

"A wise old woman once told me that you never know where you might meet your next opportunity," Y/n teased.

"What did I tell you about calling me an old woman?" Gale shot a glare at Y/n.

"What? It's not like you're gonna punish me." Sidney's eyes widened as she glanced between Gale and Y/n. For the first time that night, Gale separated herself from Sidney completely as she pulled Y/n away from the party. Y/n was a bit nervous that she'd get her ass chewed out, but all of that went away whenever Gale stopped and took Y/n's hands in hers. "Are you going to tell me why you've been weird these past few weeks?"

"Are you taking the job in London?" Gale asked. Y/n's eyes narrowed as she looked down at Gale.

"What job in London? If you're referring to Mr. McAlister, he hasn't offered me a job. Even if he did, I've already told him that I'm not interested in moving," Y/n told her. Gale sighed as she let go of Y/n's hands. "Aren't you happy that I'm staying?"

"No! You need to go and make a name for yourself. What is keeping you here?"

"The fact that I don't want to work for anybody else. Have you been paying attention to anything that I've been doing while I'm with you? My website is really starting to take off, I don't need to move to London to work for some music magazine that was big ten years ago, but fell off in the age of the internet. I can stay here with you where I belong," Y/n said. Gale leaned back against a brick wall as she looked at Y/n. "I can't explain it, but I don't think this is the right time to leave. So, if you want to get rid of me, you're gonna have to kick me out."

"I can't imagine why you'd want to stay. I know what everybody thinks of me, I'm a bitter, old woman."

"I've always kind of been into the mean cougar vibe," Y/n joked as she stepped towards Gale. Y/n planned on kissing her, but Gale beat her to the punch instead. Y/n's head was spinning as she tried to take in the feeling of Gale's lips pressed against her own. Y/n parted her lips slightly to deepen the kiss, but Gale pulled back.

"If you ever call me a cougar again, I'll have Sidney shoot you."

"Noted," Y/n said as she stepped away from Gale. "Now, come on, you have a party to enjoy. There's at least a good five years left in you before you can start the crazy, reclusive writer shtick."

#my writing #one shots #scream x reader #scream #gale weathers x reader #gale weathers

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xx-craftycreep-xx · 9 days

Note

So hiiiii it's the Toby Adams anon you can fulfill this request whenever you finish Toby's case file but could I get a one shot of the reader (gender neutral or male pronouns whichever you prefer) who used to be friends with him before everything went to shit soft domming Toby after they meet back up after the events of his case file and Toby confesses to them afterwards ❤️ I love Toby sm the man deserves some affection

- 🪓

You're correct! Cinnamon roll deserves love ❤️

Late night Loving

Warnings: Angst,mentions of violence,mentions of smut,Soft dom! reader,sub!Toby,Anal, Male x male,

Tobias Adams (Ticci Toby) x Male! reader

Or interact only if comfortable with warnings

2 am in the morning. A quite,calm yet eerie atmosphere. The sound of pen writing over pages could be heard.You sat in the kitchen as you wrote about your day.

Day 184 without Tobias

It had been 6 months and 1 day since he had turned himself to Pinhearst Hospital.

You had been wanting to visit him that fateful day. Only to find his hous on fire with him standing in front of it with a dead Mr.Crothers in his arms,crying to himself. He had told you about all his crimes and the ones he didn't commit. You never believed the stupid rumours at school and he was grateful for that.

You sat still as you recalled.

You listened to everything he said with horror,yet pity for him.

"What now,Toby? " You had asked. "I want to turn myself in, ___. I really don't feel like I deserve to live after this. I don't think I deserve your friendship. I don't th-"

"Tobias"

He looked at you. You stepped forward, taking his bone mask off and flinched at the sight of his face. Yet,you continued to raise your hand and cupped his cheek. "I'm gonna be there for you no matter what, Toby. I'll be here whenever you need me. If it takes time,I'll wait. But I'll stay,no matter what. And most importantly,stop blaming yourself,Tobias! It wasn't, isn't and will never be your fault. It is what it is. Now we just have to focus on the present and a better future."

Your patience was indeed running thin,but you knew you had to wait and that you WILL wait.After all,Toby was in his worst state, and he needed you, you couldn't just leave him like that!You sat there,contemplating life.

Everything was quite, until you heard a thud in your bedroom.You stood up. Grabbing a knife, you made your way to the bedroom. You slowly opened the door, peeking inside. You noticed that a book had fallen and that your window was open. But then your eyes trailed to your bed...and you felt that you were hallucinating. There he was,albeit in an orange uniform (That you recognised from Pinehearst Hospital) sitting on your bed, clearly distressed. You looked at him, heart thumping against your ribcage. "Toby..." His head shot up. "___" Your heart skipped a beat,looking at his pretty face. You moved towards him. He kept his eyes on yours as you did. You sat beside him,still not breaking eye contact. You wondered how he reached your home. Almost as he read your mind,he said,"I ran away from there, ___. Doctor Wilson was stabbed by another patient and the blame was on the both of us despite me not doing anything!I couldn't think,___! " You sighed. You looked down and then saw something.

His leg was injured. "Toby,your leg!" You immediately ran to your drawer,before being stopped. "I've fixed it." He said,lifting his pant to show you to wound. You breathed a sigh of relief.You sat back down,this time more closer."So...what was it like?" He pondered for a bit. "It was...good.Especially Dr.Wilson. He was kind,patient and calm.He was never forcing me to open up,but letting me take my time." You smiled upon hearing this.You looked at him. His eyee,his scars,His nose,his lips,his entire face...so gorgeous.You wished you could kiss him.His cheeks,his lips,his nose,his dic-

"___" You flinched. "Uh-Yeah?" You could see confusion in his eyes,but he shrugged it off. "Did you miss me?" he asked. What a stupid question."What makes you think I didn't? Toby,ypu matter a lot to me. You're my friend." You saw him visibly get upset at that. "Yeah...." his lips made a pout as he looked down. 'So fucking cute.' The pout made his lips look more kissable. Sure,they were slightly chapped,but that made you get off even more. You kept your gaze on him, the way some strands of his hair fell on his face,the way there were some extra scars than last time.You could feel your pants getting tight.

When was the last time you jerked off?

Couldn't even remember. "___" "Yeah?"

His brown coloured orbs were filled with...what you could identify as lust. "You look hot in sweatpants." He said. And the moment he said that, you looked down at yourself,relieved that your semi was not prominent. But when you looked at him,you internally moaned as you spotted his full bulge. "Toby...." He blushed. "I-I'm sorry-" "Take your clothes off."

"huh?" He looked at you,eyes filled with surprise,lust and one more emotion that you were scared to take the name of. "C'mon babe,take 'em off." He slowly took his orange shirt off. You gawked at his hot torso. It was toned, with very few hair at the chest and some pretty scars. Oh how you were going to lick them. He took his pants off, giving you a view of his blue boxers,already a little wet at the front.

"You now." He demanded. So you obliged. Once you were done,you looked at him.His eyes trailed all over your body,practically eye-fucking you. But you hadn't got your dick out yet."Take your boxers off,baby." He whimpered. He fucking whimpered.

He took them off and voila! There was the dick you had fantasized about. It was not too thick,but long. Veins were a little prominent, the tip already flushed. "Sorry for the jungle of hair,I didn't get time-" "It's okay." You looked at him with understanding as you took your own boxers off. "Holy shit! I never thought you'd pack so much,dude!" He exclaimed as you giggled. You laid him on the bed as you took his dick in your hand. You looked at him,silently asking a question. He nodded,giving you permission. You spat in your hand,and started stroking his member. He bit back a whimper. Once you were sure it was lubricated enough,you kissed his tip,earning a grunt from him. You finally wrapped your lips around his dick,moan causing vibrations to flow through Toby's body. You started bobbing your head up and down, going fast then switching you speed to slow. You tried your best to ignore your own dick begging for attention.Toby's soft moans encouraged you as you massaged his balls.You kept on going,until he said,"___..I'm- Close-" You immediately stopped,resulting in Toby whining.

"Not so soon, pretty boy." You got on your knees,immediately smirking as you looked at the mess Toby was. His hair spread on your bed,lips parted,face slightly flushed as his chest heaved. You arched your body forward,opening the drawer next to your bed. Toby's adorable, curious eyes followed your movements. His eyes slightly widening as you took out lube. You poured it in your hands, closed the bottle and kept it back on your nightstand. You applied it on your dick,as Toby watched with fascination. "Definitely the hottest thing I've ever seen." He thought. You applied the remaining lube on his asshole,not before asking him a question,which he nodded to.

You pressed your tip to his entrance.Slowly,you started pushing,your dick gliding easily. Both of you moaned in unison as you fully sheathed yourself inside him."Feelin' good?" You asked.

"Yeah...Please..fuck me ___." You chuckled as you started thrusting."Fffuucckkkk" Both if you groaned in unison as you started thrusting faster.

"Your so fucking wet f'me,baby.Takin' me so well."He moaned at your praise." I want you.I-ah- Want you.." You increased your pace. "To what,sweetie? Use your words!" "I want you to fuck me! Harder!" he yelled,clearly stimulated due to the gap in masturbation.

You lift his legs up,placing them on your shoulders,fucking him in a deeper angle. "Yeah! Like that! Fuck me like tha-ah-" You looked at his dick as it twitched."I'm cumming!" He yelled. You kept on thrusting. "I'm close! I'm close! I'm-" he groaned loudly as he came.Ropes of thick cum spurting on his own chest as you jerked him off.You could feel your own orgasm inching closer. "I'm-" You couldn't even warn him as you came,still not stopping as you rode out your orgasm. "s' so hot" he moaned,grabbing your cum stained hands to help you. With one final thrust,you fell on him,your chest getting stained with his sticky cum.You both panted heavily,the afterglow hitting.Once you both calmed down,you decided to take a shower. Toby followed you in amd that led to another round. Coming out of the shower,you gave him your spare clothes,fawning over how adorable looked.

You both lay in bed,side by side. .

"___."

"Yeah?"

"I want you to be my boyfriend." You looked at him,heart beating loudly.

"I know..it's risky now that I'm a murderer. But..I need you..I Love you." He looked at you with pleading eyes. How could you say no? You nodded. He immediately kissed you. It was a soft yet passionate kiss. However, you felt him stop. Opening your eyes,you realised he was fast asleep. You smiled. Looking at him,you felt your own eyes getting heavy. Soon,you were fast asleep.

A/N: Dividers by @cafekitsune

#Tobias Adams #Toby Adams #ticci toby #ticci toby x reader #creepypasta x reader

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thegoldencontracts · 11 hours

Note

Hey Tina! Any angst hcs/thoughts for Azula and Azul? 😈

Huehuehuee I have quite a few <3 Like, imagine Azula learning about her dad's overblot, or Azul accidentally missing an important event of hers because of work. But there's one major idea that I've had for a while now (sorry if this conflicts with your vision/canon for the characters, I'm gonna try my best to do it all justice!)

Run-Off

Summary: Azul can't understand why his daughter keeps getting into trouble. She can't understand why he so dislikes her harmless antics.

Warnings: Angst, brief implied eating disorder

Azul Ashengrotto was a successful man. He was intelligent, and capable of doing anything and everything - barring flight, of course. That was something he'd never be able to master.

So why was it that he couldn't even handle his own daughter properly?

He'd always been a bit ashamed of the fact that he'd had her put in a daycare. It was a failure on his part, he thought, to be unable to properly supervise his own children.

And he'd heard the way some of the workers would laugh when they thought he wasn't looking. He was merely a typical, incompetent father, after all. Though he made sure to punish said workers appropriately, that didn't stop the sting of failure from haunting him.

Pathetic.

He was already beginning to worry for his skills as a parent.

Then, the incidents happened.

His daughter turned into a boy, experienced an odd reverse-overblot, and more; that wasn't even starting on all the places she'd run off to without giving him so much as a goodbye.

What exactly was going on with her?

At the dinner table, he found himself sighing as he picked at his salad. He didn't particularly deserve a sizable meal, not today.

"'Got turned into a part-cat," Azula started.

Azul felt his nose wrinkle in disgust.

"Yes, how- lovely," he said. He certainly didn't find it to be so.

"You seem angry,' Azula said awkwardly. "I-is somethin' wrong?"

Azul took a deep breath. He couldn't have himself losing his composure in front of his daughter. What sort of failure would that make him?

He had to take action. He couldn't just- couldn't be-

Pathetic. Too incompetent to care for his own daughter.

"I'm going to pull you out of that daycare soon," he said.

Azula's eyes widened in shock.

"B-But why?" She asked.

Why? Wasn't it obvious?

"You've been getting into far too many odd situations," Azul said. "I must keep an eye on you. It's my job as your parent to ensure you're safe."

"But it's fun..."

Azula was scrambling to find reasons to stay. Azul felt a pang in his heart.

"A-And, I'm findin' out loads of stuff you can use!" She said. "There's a bunch of people who like you, uh- Qu-artz, Tina, Ma, Jade and Floyd-"

Jade and Floyd were nothing but his business partners. Regardless, this was a tangent.

"You're being withdrawn, and that's final," he said with a sigh.

Azula just huffed.

"Can't make me leave," she said.

"I am your father-"

"And I don't wanna go!" Tears pricked at her eyes. Azul felt a pang in his heart. Of all the traits he'd passed on to her, one of the worst was a propensity for tears.

"We will discuss this further tomorrow," he said tersely. "Good night."

She just nodded, silent for once, and Azul couldn't help the dread that overtook him.

Had he scared her? Lost her affection? Seven, this was such a mess.

Azul just sighed, heading back to his room defeatedly. He'd learned all about business, all about the art of charming others into fulfilling his desires, and yet, once sentiment was introduced to the situation, it was all thrown out the window.

Azul slumped upon his bed. He was still as pathetic as ever.

Some things, it seemed, would never change.

#azul ashengrotto #twisted wonderland #twst #twst azul #azul #btw if anyone wants me to write a fic abt their oc im always down

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mocha-gladiator · 4 months

Note

Release the info dump doc of Typhon and Rhoda pleaaaaaaase

ok but you have been warned this is literally just a jumble of Notes and Ideas this is not a story and it is not polished At All this was intended for my eyes only but here u go

(Continuation of comic, starting where the last one left off)

"Have you tried eating?"

"Yes, for fomal events. I purge it afterwards, though. It...feels strange to me. I can't use the goods the way you do."

"Is there anything I can do?"

"I don't know. I've never heard of someone being sent here and living. Save for short missions."

"Well what did you do to upset your god? Maybe you can ask forgiveness."

"I...don't think that they will accept. I refused to attack during a guard assignment and one of my own was killed because of it. I'm a shield guy, not a warrior. I'd gotten by with it until then, but...I'm a pacifist. I'm useless to them."

Typhon gets weak after the third day and, thinking he's going to die, rhoda lays down beside him and holds him like a teddy bear, comforting him. The next morning he is nowhere to be seen and she assumes his kind will dissipate when dead, but he later wakes her with quite a fright, as he is now his full height and very excitable. This summons her bodyguard from outside her room.

Typhon's arms are on either side of the bed, on the floor, and yet he still hovers over her in an awkward position as the door opens.

The guard points his spear at typhon before rhoda can call him off. Typhon is more confused than anything at the threat. After things calm down, he takes the human's helmet off and pets his head.

"Lady Rhoda??"

"Typhon, stop. He doesn't like it."

"Oh."

Once he stops, he offers the helmet back, tiny in his massive palm.

Typhon sits on the bed and it creaks under the weight. The mattress flips up at either end, causing Rhoda to slide against his side making a wide-eyed expression. After a moment she notices how soft his feathers are. She explains who the guard is and gives his name. He is an attractive man without the helmet, which he has stowed under his arm for the moment. Typhon introduces himself.

"So we're in the same line of work," he says, much to everyone's confusion. He gives a strange salute. "Nice to meet you, [x]."

at this point, Rhoda can no longer stand it and reaches up to run her fingers through the soft down, causing typon to still and close his eyes. After a moment, he starts to emit a soft rumbling sound.

"YOU FUCKING PURR?"

Typhon's expression flashes surprise before responding. "I suppose so. Do you like it?"

"I...uhm...s-sure."

"Should I continue?"

"No."

"No matter where you are, I'll hear your call for me."

When there seems no other way out, rhoda asks typhon to attack, which he refuses at first. He finds a second way, to burn her binds. This looks like he is burning her too. It melts the binds and her clothes. his eyes and face are a frightening mask

after escape, he sits hunched on the grass, facing away from her. "My fire cannot hurt you," he says quietly, ashamed.

rhoda does not respond, instead asking for his cloak to clothe herself. Her words are emotionless after she puts it on, then commands him "Take me home." He does not show emotion save for a slightly crinkled brow as wetness streaks from his eyes and down his face as they fly.

later the next morning he is nowhere to be found. she goes outside and calls for him, knowing he can hear her. He arrives, but much smaller. A short human size.

is there a way to make typhon use his fire ? he would be mad if rhoda used it against his will, especially to attack.

After awhile, typhon will get stronger, horns grow, and potentially have blackish hands ? "I've been in this world too long." Worried about devilish appearance

would create a lot of tension if they had a big disagreement and were against each other for awhile. I don't know how Typhon would stay alive though. It would have to only be for a few days I guess.

Typhon could eventually break the need for care by becoming a god himself. Don't need to ask a god for care and forgiveness if you are one

his laurels grow from his head. they can be cut like hair.

#Typhon #Rhoda

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arklay · 1 year

Text

WIP DAY.

tagged by @girlbosselrond @morvaris @aartyom @risingsh0t @phillipsgraves @leviiackrman @indorilnerevarine & @denerims over the past month! sorry it's taken me so long to get to anything at all, i'm sure you guys have heard me address it enough, but thank you all so much for continuing to tag me in things while i've been inactive ♡

tagging @aelyosos @brujah @calenhads @florbelles @jendoe @lightwardens @liurnia @nokstella @nuclearstorms @shadowsofrose @shellibisshe @steelport @swordcoasts @wrymbloods @voerman & all of those who tagged me again cause i'm so behind + anyone else who'd like to share anything they're working on, not just writing! ♡

i haven't written anything since the last wip game i did, but i started trying to put diana's timeline together at the start of january, so i mean... i'll show that instead. as you can see, fatigue hasn't let me do much with it even though i've got all of her timeline already done and strewn about all over the place.

started with 1995 onwards cause it was originally going to be an ewskers timeline situation, but then wanted to include all of her backstory so i went back to the start and still have the late 80s and early 90s to get through before then, but yeah :]

it's going to include like all little moments i've thought of between the ewskers just for me and placing them on the timeline, so you can imagine how long this is going to get if i have to go to 2021 for village... like just 1996-1998 is going to be so much... she's very special to me if you couldn't tell already lmaoo

never sharing this though, it's just for me, and like will help for when i do her timeline page (more in-depth version of what's on her oc page) to just run through canon events and brief descriptions and whatnot. you understand.

everything is blurred out besides 1995 ewskers momence and the years, just cause like idk her i feel weird sharing her in-depth backstory unless it's in dms or something, just cause there's lots going on there and yeah. things. idk

i also made a carrd for twt if you wanna have a look at that :] there's some cheeky subtle things with the two resi items i used as pics hehe

actually, you know what, i'll give a lil bit from where i left of with that rewrite anyways, even though it's been months since i wrote it. but why not

Wesker left a fleeting kiss behind her ear then reached around her and hooked his fingers beneath her coat, prompting Diana to glance back at him. But all he did was gently pull it from her shoulders. She watched him from out of the corner of her eye as he hung it up on the rack by the door, his movements careful and almost calculated, until he turned back towards her, and the warmth of his body returned once more. He pressed up against her side this time, as opposed to her back, and one of his hands found a home on her waist. The way the arm it belonged to was resting firmly against her as he began leading her towards the kitchen was comforting, secure, yet unmistakably possessive. And she revelled in it. He had quite the knack for handling her just the way she wanted.

#tag games.#keep going to do picrews and just zoning out 😭 i'm so behind on literally everything but it's fine it's okay (lying)#i'm having a day and a half even though i woke up feeling okay but oh well. my last month has just been like watching videos during the day #or playing games when i have a bit more energy but like i can't do anything that requires me to actually read or write things like words #are just not computing in my brain at the moment but it's okay like i'm just exhausted and hoping soon i can get back to writing because i #still have over 30 wips going lmao but yeah it's been a time a half with lots of appointments and seeing specialists again and trying to #sort things out. i've been more active on twitter which i've mentioned before but it's just because like it's easier for me to sort of just #like and rt things and not having to do my organisation tags and things like i know that sounds so just small and simple but that's how #i've been lately like to my brain rn that seems like a really big task. so i just keep coming on here randomly for a few minutes then #disappearing so i'm sorry that i've definitely missed so much and i haven't been around to just show my appreciation and love to your #creations!! also just everything that happened in december and then a bit at the start of january too like i'm just a lil paranoid about #being on here honestly so i'm trying to get back to it and be okay with posting again and i'm going to make a promise to myself to actually #filter more tags i think? just to help me with like not exposing myself to things that do make me feel uncomfortable in any way!! i'm #rambling now but sorry sometimes i just need to lmaooo idk but yes so cute lil subtle things from my carrd i wanna talk about cause why not #i didn't have to change the blue herb from re0 besides making it brighter because it's already teal toned which is so sexy but i shifted #the hue on the spade key like SLIGHTLY like it was so little. but anyways. i use this emoji ✨ on my twitter name and yes cause sparkles but #also. three stars. the s.t.a.r.s. badge and logo :] then blue herb because i will have no poison in my safe space!!!! take a blue herb or #leave please!! only good vibes and safe space here!! spade key because i'm ace <3 i was going to include the diamond one in there as well #because am demiro and like those are the symbols in the community. ace of spades for ace. diamond for demis (both orientations)#but wasn't sure how to weave the pink through the rest of the carrd even though cyan and pink together is so pretty omg

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obsessedwhim · 10 months

Text

Nap

The church rang proudly with the songs of the times, nothing but proud followers bellowing out the songs of all things holy.

"When Christ shall come, with a shout of acclamation,

And take me home, shall joy fill my heart.

Then I shall bow, in humble adoration,

And then, I proclaim, 'My Lord How Great Thou Art!'"

A teen stood straight in his Sunday best which consisted of a navy blue suit and a black tie that accented his dark blue hair which was unwillingly slipped back. His dashing good looks drew a good amount of attention but so did Amant's angelic voice which overtook the others like a wave washing over tiny grains of sand.

The talented young man was quick to draw a crowd when the ceremony had finished, they complimented his skills in singing and tenderly petted his chest with a flutter of their eyelashes but the teen merely chuckled and thanked the love-sick females "Thank you ladies very much but.. I have some matters I need to attend to" he gave them a sweet close-eyed smile before bowing out of the group and began making his way out of the bustling church, knowing that he will speak to his mother later as she was probably busy chatting to her friend group.

"Why must mother insist that I accompany her to service every Sunday" Amant sighed as he entered his home with blazer in hand, his tie loosened along a few buttons undone. Threading his fingers through his midnight hair the teen's dark locks split down the middle "She knows I'm not a believer. She just uses the same old excuse that I don't spend enough time with her yet I'm always visiting" he rambled on to none after hanging up his jacket and began rolling up his sleeves, under the impression that the home was empty

After some loud muffled voices were heard Amant groaned inwardly with a slouch in his spine "Hey Ichigo mind keeping it down? I've heard enough preaching to last me a lifetime" he chuckled at the joke but paused mid-step when two other beings were spotting sitting at his kitchen table.

"Why didn't you say we'd have company? I would've done the dishes before I left" Amant slapped the ginger on his shoulder lightly before turning to the two sitting females with a polite smile "Orihime, Rukia. It's nice to see you two again"

Although they had all gone to the same high school Amant had never truly felt like part of the group, he knew that it was none's fault and people don't always click, but he did enjoy their company and found them fun to be around, he just preferred to hang out in the library or other quiet places. The females blushed at his handsome demeanor with little waves and well-mannered hello's with Ichigo rolling his eyes as he stood close to the pale teen's side "If you guys are hanging out then would you like to stay for dinner? I'll cook something before leaving for my studies" he offered but the being next to him was quick to disagree with a loud yell "Uwaah! NO!.... Uh no. I-It's fine. They were just leaving anyways!!" the male narrowed his stare at the girls and they blinked oddly, even though Orihime was excited to finally spend some time with Ichigo after the war had ended along with their years in high school there was no denying the act that there were not wanted for dinner, she was sure Ichigo had a good reason. His reaction was enough for Orihime to back out but it took a scowl and a curse to eventually chase Rukia away.

Slamming the door shut behind him Ichigo sighed with a hand running through his spikes "Man. I thought they'd never leave"

"That was quite rude of you, wouldn't you think?" Amant chuckled as he waltzed close and leaned in for a short kiss "What were you guys talking about? It sounded like an argument"

Ichigo frowned at the memory from moments ago and walked back to the kitchen with the second male close behind "How should I know? Rukia just burst in here without calling or knocking" he huffed, obviously frustrated by the events. He knew why they had stopped by but Amant wasn't a part of that world, the only thing he knew of was that his partner could speak with the dead and sometimes vanishes to help them.

The Kurosaki had called Urahara a few days ago to mention how he was taking a few days off from hollow hunting duty, turns out Rukia didn't agree with his wishes and Orihime was worried that something had happened but they only probably gained more questions from their short visits.

"Ichigo, you're dwelling and we both know I don't care for flashbacks" The smaller being's hand landed on Ichigo's shoulder with curved brows "Are you sure everything's okay?"

Ichigo glanced to the side with a sigh and cursed how hard it was to spend time with the people he loved before nuzzling his forehead against Amant's as he placed his palms on the male's hips comfortably "I just asked for a few days off work, that's all"

"Why would you do that? I thought you guys were busy" The male frowned but Ichigo huffed sourly "They can survive a few days without me"

"I dunno, you seem pretty important to them" Amant was held closer to the larger body "But... you're more important to me" The ginger's face flourished into a bright red earning a chuckle and a palm on his cheek, he never wanted to admit it but Ichigo's work worried the dark haired being. He would leave at all hours of the day and night and would come back exhausted with the odd bruise, Amant knew the work was dangerous in a way and whenever Ichigo would slip away he'd be wrecked with worry- leading him to visit his mother.

Amant warm smile comforted Ichigo's tired stare and a hand gripped his palm "C'mon, with all this free time we should go take a nap"

Ichigo followed without any complaints, who knew a nap could be so exciting?

#adult ichigo kurosaki x reader #ichigo kurosaki x reader #ichigo kurosaki x oc #ichigo kurosaki #bleach ichigo #bleach headcanons #fanfic writing #fanfiction #fanfics #I just want to be heard

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giantmushyfriend · 4 months

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One thing about me is that I collect special obsessions like they are antiques. Quite literally, you could catch me in an alleyway wearing a trenchcoat like a cartoon villain, except when I open it up the pockets are full of drugs they're full of the oddest assortment of shit. Do you want TV? I have Good Omens out the fucking wazoo, Supernatural if you're feeling a little burry your gays trope, and pirated Dickinson because your girl does not have the money or the will to get an Apple TV subscription. Books? Hell yeah, I work in a bookstore, babes. I have gut-wrenching classical mythology retellings, soft homosexual romances, dragons, lesbians galore, and the occasional Wilde and Austin. Music? I have all Hozier and Hozier adjacent artists that you could even picture. Historical events/archeology? Pockets are stuffed to the BRIM. I've got em' all, however, I am always looking for more. I am a HORDER. I am like a feral little crow that just goes around snagging different pieces of media that I find shiny and neat, and then stuffing them into my metaphorical trenchcoat until I simply collapse in on myself in my inevitable death. That being said, I decided, hey, lets try out Fleabag. I've heard nothing but good things alongside those who were permanently emotionally scarred by it- but even they have said nothing but amazing things. So, I log onto my student Amazon Prime Video, ready to spend my Tuesday binge-watching some British folk be British. Press play and BOOM, flashback. I'm a little taken back, I don't know these people. And yet I'm given this run down of past events, and I'm a little confused. Who are these people? I don't know! But I decide to live, laugh, love and just accept that this is a stylistic choice that I'm oddly okay with. So anyway, I binge that show like it is crack, and decide it is definitely going into the ol' trenchcoat. By the end I am crying so violently that I need to go sit in a church and contemplate what in the fresh fuck I just witnessed because I am in PAIN with that "it'll pass" fuckery that this man just laid on me. Anyway, I go to exit out to the main page for the show and low and behold my eyes are drawn to this little white button that tells me tHAT I'VE BEEN WATCHING SEASON TWO THIS ENTIRE TIME. It wasn't a style choice- I'm just illiterate. So now I'm contemplating watching season one, but I can't handle that pain. I feel like I just underwent a glitch in the matrix.

What do I do?

Do I go back to the church? Because low-key it was a vibe when I was going through it, definitely should have went there after Good Omens, but the last time I went in there and just sat I got this weird look from this one lady and I don't think I can handle that again.

#fleabag #fleabag season 2 #what the fresh hell

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photogirl894 · 10 months

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"IronStar"

Chapter 1

"Starlight"

A "Fairy Tail" fanfic

Pairing: Gajeel x fem OC

A/N: A new fic from me for "Fairy Tail", one of my favorite animes ever!! 🥰 My hubby and I have been rewatching the show and I've had it on the brain quite a bit, hence how this came about!

A couple notes: I'm not gonna do what I normally do with my OC fics and try and insert them into canon events cuz...Fairy Tail has a LOT to follow. It's gonna be kind of its own thing with maybe a few couple canon events being referenced (I would say this is probably post Tenrou Island/the seven year time jump) I don't know how long this fic will go, but hopefully for quite a while 😊 I'm just gonna say this right now: I LOVE Gajeel so freaking much 😍😍

Also, the magic my OC uses is all made up by me and might not completely follow any sort of "magic rules" from the show, so I apologize in advance 😅

Otherwise, I hope you all enjoy!! 💜

Taglist: @l-lend , @rosechi , @the-bad-batch-baroness , @angrypaperearthquake-tbbb-main

》 Chapter 2

All chapters

Explanation: A new face arrives in Magnolia in search of Fairy Tail, but not before running into one of its members.

Another beautiful, sunny day shined down on the fair city of Magnolia in the country of Fiore. In the streets strolled a newcomer to the city: a young woman with pale skin and long, curly hair that was turquoise in color; half of it fell loose down her back while the other half was pulled up into two fun buns on the top sides of her head. Her light blue eyes scanned the city as she continued walking through the streets, taking in the buildings and booths opened for the day. She wore a dressy shirt of different shades of purple with short, ruffly sleeves, white pants and ankle-high purple boots. Around her neck, she wore a dark purple bandana scarf. She had never been to Magnolia before, but she was a woman on a mission.

To find the Wizard guild of Fairy Tail.

She had heard a lot of great things about this guild and she was in search of one. She needed a better place to go; hopefully somewhere she could fit in. She too was a Wizard, but her previous home was not somewhere she felt she belonged. It was time for a change and maybe Fairy Tail, if they were willing to give her a chance, would be a great place to start over.

Being lost in her own thoughts and in awe of the city around her, she didn’t see the person in front of her and accidentally ran into them, stumbling backwards after the impact.

A deep, gruff voice spoke to her, "Whoa! Careful where you're goin', kid." He spoke to her more with caution than with anger.

"I'm so sorry, I wasn't paying attention," the girl said.

She took in the stranger's appearance before her and he was unlike anyone she'd ever seen before. He was younger; probably a couple years older than her, tall, had very long and spiky black hair and wore a black, sleeveless top that looked like an overcoat with tattered ends, tan trousers and black boots. On his shoulder was a dark green fur mantle and around his neck was a black scarf. Then on his hands were brown leather, fingerless gloves. What was most peculiar about him were two key details: his piercing red eyes and the silver studs he had on his face and body. He had them along the edges of his ears, three studs above each eye in place of eyebrows, two on both sides of the bridge of his nose, two in his chin and four on the underside of each forearm. He had what almost seemed like a permanent scowl on his face. She'd never seen anyone as intimidating as him before. Yet he didn't appear threatening, which was a good sign, at least. Just more caught off guard than anything.

He eyed her curiously, but then just stated, "It's no big deal. Just be careful."

The girl gave him a nod and without another word took off in the direction of her quarry.

A few more minutes passed until she came up a hill and then she saw it: the towering building with the name "Fairy Tail" over the entrance and the flag of the fairy emblem hanging above the open doors. There it was, the place she'd been searching for.

"This is it. I almost can't believe I'm here," she said aloud in awe. Then she took a deep breath and exhaled loudly. "All right...here goes nothing."

Steeling herself, she walked through the open doors and was met with a wall of noise from a huge crowd of people hanging out in the guild hall. Human men and women of different varieties were spread out about the room. Some big, some small, some young, some older. She spotted two spiky-haired boys arguing and getting close to fighting over in a corner; one with pink hair and the other with black hair. Two girls were watching them, a blonde and a bluenette. There was also...a cat? The girl swore she saw a blue cat standing on a table nearby them. In seconds, the two boys were throwing fists and the girl kept walking over to the bar area.

Behind the bar was a beautiful woman with long white hair with a small ponytail at the front. When she saw the girl coming, she greeted her with a bright smile and said with a high-pitched voice, "Hello there! Welcome to Fairy Tail! What can I do for you?"

The turquoise-haired girl sat on a barstool and told the woman, "Hi, I was hoping to talk to the Master of Fairy Tail. Is he here?"

The bar woman answered, "I'm so sorry, Master is away right now, but he'll be back soon. Maybe I can help you." She held out a hand to the girl. "I'm Mirajane, but you can call me Mira. I'm one of highest-ranking Wizards here."

The girl shook her hand. "I'm Genna. I just came here hoping to maybe join Fairy Tail. I'm a Wizard, too, and I've heard a lot of things about this guild: some good and some crazy and I thought it sounded like my kind of place."

There was a loud crash behind her and she jumped in surprise, seeing the two fighting boys having destroyed one of the tables.

"Will you two cut it out? We just fixed the tables!" cried out one of the onlookers.

Ignoring them, the pink-haired one cried out, "You want a piece of me, brain freeze? I'll take you down right now!"

The other boy spat back, "In your dreams, hot shot!"

Genna turned back to Mira, who simply said with a grin on her face, "Yeah, I'm sure the crazy things you've heard aren't too far off. We're a rowdy bunch, as you can see."

"No kidding. Is that normal?" inquired Genna, gesturing to the wrestling boys behind her.

With a giggle, Mira answered, "Oh yes. Natsu and Gray fight each other almost every day, but they do care about each other deep down. They just don't want to admit it."

Genna chuckled, amused.

"You said you're a Wizard, too. What magic do you use?" then asked Mira.

Just as Genna was about to answer, someone sat down a couple seats away from her and a man's gravely voice said, "Hey Mira, mind pourin' one for me?"

"Sure thing!" Mira obliged, turning her back for a moment.

Genna turned to look and was shocked at who saw she saw.

It was the red-eyed, long-haired man with the studs that she’d run into on the street.

"Oh my gosh! It's you!" she exclaimed.

The man looked at her and grinned slyly, leaning his arm on the bar. "Well, well...fancy runnin' into you here, kid," he said.

It was then she noticed the Fairy Tail emblem on his left shoulder, which she didn't see the first time. "You're a Fairy Tail Wizard?" she questioned, stunned at seeing him there.

"Sure am. What's it to ya?" he asked, still grinning as Mira handed him a drink.

"I just didn't notice your mark when I ran into you. I had no idea," she replied.

"You two have already met?" inquired Mira.

After taking a sip, the guy answered her, "Yeah, she wasn't watchin' where she was goin' and ran right into me."

Shyly, Genna said back, "I said I was sorry."

"You got a name, kid?" he asked.

"I'm Genna Whitesun," she answered.

Satisfied with that answer, he aimed his thumb at his chest and responded, "Gajeel Redfox. Or Black Steel Gajeel."

Her eyebrows rose up and she looked impressed with quite a name.

"He's one of our resident Dragonslayer Wizards," Mira added.

Genna's eyes went wide. "You're a Dragonslayer? No way!" she cried out.

"Indeed and he's an exceptional one at that."

There was a second deep male voice that suddenly came from behind Gajeel and another cat came into view, but he had white wings on his back and landed on the bar next to Gajeel. The cat was small, black with round ears, a scar by his left eye and wearing pants.

With a small cry, she exclaimed, "You can talk?"

While the cat folded his arms across his chest and smiled, Gajeel told her, "This is my cat, Pantherlily. All of us Dragonslayers have one."

"We're called Exceeds," said Pantherlily.

"Fascinating!" she said back. Though, in her mind, she was secretly fawning over how adorable he was.

"So what're ya doing here at Fairy Tail?" Gajeel questioned Genna.

Mira answered for her with glee, "She's looking to maybe join the guild." Then she looked to Genna and spoke up curiously, "Genna, you never got to answer my question. What sort of magic do you use?"

Beaming proudly, she stated, "I use Starlight Magic."

Gajeel's studded eyebrows went up. "Ain't ever heard of that kind of magic."

"It's super rare," said Mira. "I'd love to see what you can do."

Feeling confident, Genna stood up from her stool and brought her hands up in front of her, touching her fingertips together. "Starlight Magic Art," she stated, conjuring a shimmering, iridescent magic circle. "Aurora Borealis!"

She thrust out her hands in front of her and in the air over the crowd appeared a sparkling wave of colors that looked like a river of stars. Everyone inside stopped what they were doing and looked up in wonder at the amazing display above their heads, crying out in astonishment. Then all eyes turned to the source of the lights as it dissipated, meaning everyone was now looking at Genna.

She just smiled and looked back at Gajeel and Mira. "That's just more for show," she told them. "There's more I can do in terms of combat and other abilities."

Gajeel had never seen such a dazzling show of magic and it was a sight to behold. The stars that hung in the air almost to seemed reflect in her eyes and he was almost literally starstruck for a very brief moment. This girl was something else. He couldn't help but wonder what else her magic could do.

However, in seconds, people were already clamoring over to her, wondering who she was, where she came from and how she did her cool trick. Then, to her surprise, the pink-haired young man pushed through and put himself between her and the other people.

"Hey, back off, everybody!" he yelled with great force. "Don't be crowding the new girl! Get back before I send you flying!"

That seemed to deter the crowd and they all dispersed and moved away. That certainly wasn’t what Genna had been expecting.

Then the young man turned around and said with perhaps the largest smile ever, "Sorry about all that. We just get pretty excited around here. I haven't seen you here before. I'm Natsu. Welcome to Fairy Tail!"

She couldn't help but smile back at his contagious enthusiasm and told him, "I'm Genna. I'm happy to be here."

Getting a better look at Natsu, she saw he only wore a black vest with gold trim over his torso, a skirt-like garment that matched the vest over white puffy pants with black ties at the bottom and sandals. Then around his neck we wore a white scale-patterned scarf.

"Are you looking to join our guild? We may be a big guild already, but we still always have room for more," Natsu declared.

Timidly, she answered him, "I mean...I'd like to, but I'm waiting to talk to the Master first."

"What are you waiting on Gramps for? After what you just did, I'd say you've got what it takes to be a member of Fairy Tail," he boldly stated.

Then Gajeel said in response to him, "Yeah, but last I checked, you're not the Guild Master around here, Salamander, so you don't get to make those decisions."

Natsu immediately whipped around in his direction and asked with a growl, "Okay, you wanna go, too, Gajeel? I can still voice my opinion if I want to."

"Wow, Natsu really can go from zero to a hundred in nothing flat," Genna thought, perplexed.

Then the blue cat she'd seen earlier came over, also with wings sprouting him his back and he cried out in a tiny voice, looking at Genna, "Wow, those lights were so pretty!"

He was followed by the blonde girl and the black-haired boy who Genna now realized was Gray, whom Mira had mentioned. He only wore black pants and that was it; he had no shirt on and his blue fairy emblem was on his chest. The blonde had on a white sleeveless top with blue accents, a mini-skirt of a matching shade of blue with a belt and knee-high black boots. She had a half pulled back ponytail tied with a blue ribbon. On her belt was a small leather pouch that Genna could see a couple keys poking out of and also a whip.

Gray spoke first, saying in a cool voice, "That was really something."

"Seriously! That almost reminded me of my celestial magic," spoke the blonde.

"That explains the keys," thought Genna.

Then the girl lifted a hand and said in greeting, "Hi, I'm Lucy." Then she pointed to Gray and then the blue cat. "This is Gray and this is Happy."

"Aye, sir!" exclaimed Happy.

Genna giggled. Were all Exceeds this cute?

Mira then told them, "This is Genna. She's looking to join the guild."

"Great! We could use some more girl power around here," said Lucy.

With a smirk, Genna replied, "Well, here's hoping I make it in."

"Oh, you will. Master Makarov hardly ever turns anyone away," stated Happy.

"Gramps believes that everyone deserves a place to belong and if Fairy Tail is where they wanna be, then that's enough for him," said Gray.

Then Mira put in, "Well, he might still have her take on a job first to make sure she's up to the task."

"I'll do whatever I need to," said Genna.

"Heh, famous last words," said Gajeel through a small scoff.

Genna stole a look at him and saw he was smirking at her. There didn't seem to be any malicious intent behind his words, but there was definitely some ribbing come from him for sure.

He kept going, "You say things like that, the old man might give you the hardest job on the board."

"If that's what he wants to do, then I'll do it," she replied.

"You've got moxy, kid," he said back.

Natsu slammed a fist into the palm of his other hand and let out an good-natured snicker. "I believe in you, Genna. You're gonna do great."

Touched at his support, Genna told him, "Thank you for your faith in me, Natsu."

He then added, "Whatever Gramps decides to have you do when he gets back, you'll show him you've got what it takes to be a Wizard of Fairy Tail."

"Is that so?"

An older voice spoke from behind Natsu and he jumped in surprise. There behind him was a very small old man. He was bald with tufts of white hair pointing out from behind his ears, a white mustache and wearing a white coat with fur lining. Next to him was a taller woman wearing silver armor with a blue skirt and her hair was long and a beautiful crimson color. She had a sharp and stoic look on her face.

"There you are. Welcome back, Master and Erza," said Mira gladly.

Genna looked at the old man. This was Master Makarov, Fairy Tail's leader? She never imagined he would be so tiny, but there was certainly a fierceness she could see in his eyes.

He looked up at her, as well, his interest piqued at the new face before him. "You wish to join our guild, young lady?" he asked her.

Nodding, she replied with a steady tone, "Yes, sir. I'm Genna Whitesun; I've been looking for a new guild and I thought Fairy Tail would be a good place for me."

"I see," he said. Then his mustache curled up slightly as he grinned. "Well, we're always happy to welcome new members. Though, not just anyone can enter Fairy Tail without first proving themselves in some way. I did see the display of Starlight Magic you just showed as we were approaching outside. Quite impressive, but we'll need more than that."

"Understood. I'll do whatever you'd like me to do. I want to prove that I'm worthy of the Fairy Tail name," she said, giving him a bow of her head.

The armored woman, Erza, grinned with amusement and laid a hand on her hip. "She's a determined one," she commented to the Master, her voice a touch deeper than Mira's or Lucy's and with a velvety tone to it. "What do you think, Master? What task shall we give her to test her mettle?"

"She could fight you, Scarlet," suggested Gajeel smugly.

"Are you kidding? We don’t want to scare the girl away," Gray rebuttaled.

"Actually, I have just the job in mind; one that I've just received," stated Makarov. "There have been reports of possible dark creatures lurking in the forest outside of Magnolia and even along Akane Beach. These creatures, whatever they are, are causing mass panic among the people and must be dealt with."

That sounded like the perfect job for a Starlight Magic Wizard in Genna's mind. "I can do that, no problem!" she declared.

"All right, that's the spirit!" cheered Natsu.

Gajeel snickered again. "Not sure if that's the kind of job you should do alone, kid," he commented to Genna. "You don't wanna get in over your head too quick or you're gonna fall flat."

"He's right," agreed Erza. "With this sort of job, you'll need someone to accompany you...and since he's shown great concern for your safety, Gajeel will go with you."

Taken by surprise by that remark, he spit out the sip of his drink, splashing Pantherlily in the process. "What?" he cried out.

"You had that coming, Gajeel," Pantherlily jabbed at him, shaking the excess drink off of him.

"Oh...okay," Genna relented, also caught off guard.

She wasn't displeased by Erza's order, but it just wasn't what she was expecting. Gajeel was a hard book to read thus far. He wasn't being mean to her; he was sarcastic and a tease, for sure, but he also wasn't exactly going out of his way to be nice. He was somewhere in between and it was interesting to her. The others; Mira, Pantherlily, Natsu, Gray, Lucy, Happy and Erza were all more than kind and welcoming to her, but Gajeel...he seemed indifferent. Just who exactly was he? Well, if he was gonna be going with her on this mission, maybe she'd get to find out.

Before Gajeel could further protest, Makarov chimed in, a pleased look on his face, "It's settled then. Gajeel and Genna will head out as soon as possible and deal with the dark creatures terrorizing the forest. I wish you the best of luck, young lady, and we look forward to your return."

Smiling giddily, Genna said with gratitude, "Thank you, Master Makarov. I won't let you down."

"You're gonna do great, Genna! Can't wait for you to get back," said Lucy, giving her an encouraging thumbs up and a wink.

"Go knock 'em dead," added Gray.

"Thanks, guys," Genna replied.

At the bar, Gajeel downed rest of his drink and groaned heavily as he set the cup down. "Ugh...well, this oughta be good," he complained to Pantherlily.

"You brought this on yourself, my friend," the Exceed refuted. "You had to make a comment to her."

"Hey, if I'm going, then you're in this with me, Lily," Gajeel replied, annoyed.

"I'm already aware of that," Lily responded.

There was movement out of the corner of Gajeel's eye and he turned to see Genna standing there.

"I guess it looks like you and I will be working together," she said to him, a hint of shyness in her voice. "I don't want to be a hindrance, but I appreciate the help. I'm currently staying at a hotel in town. I can go get some of my things from there and meet you back here. Does that sound good?"

"Fine by me," he replied flatly.

"Great. I'll be back soon," she said and quickly took off.

He watched her run out of the guild hall, seemingly unsure about how to feel about the whole situation. He was a seasoned Wizard who didn't always like associating the bright-eyed and bushy-tailed newbies of the guild who seem to think they can take on the world. He'd been through his fair share of trials and hardships already that hardly anyone else would understand. Newer wizards had no idea what they were getting themselves into and he didn't have the time or the energy to deal with them. Now, he was getting stuck with this new girl on a job. She was eager, definitely, but he didn't seem as bothered by her. Yet, anyway. She couldn't be that much younger than he was and she seemed more mature than some other new Wizards that had come to Fairy Tail. He wasn't annoyed with her and instead, just felt the urge to be teasing and smug with her; have a little fun and mess with her a bit, which didn't happen often.

He said to Lily, who was still standing on the bar and also watching Genna leave, "This job's gonna be interesting."

"I agree. She's got drive and spirit...she'll make a perfect addition to Fairy Tail," Lily stated.

As she ran through the streets to her hotel, Genna couldn't stop smiling with elation and slight disbelief at everything that had just happened.

"I can't believe it," she said to herself. "I've got my first job already. It's finally happening. I'm getting my chance." Her eyes lifted up to the sky. "Just you wait, Father. I'll prove you wrong. I'll show what I'm made of to everyone and I'll become a Wizard of Fairy Tail! You'll see!"

#fairy tail #fairy tail gajeel #gajeel redfox #gajeel x oc fic #ironstar fanfic

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benjimarii · 2 years

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An Open Book

Here's a small snippet of my writing, since I haven't been drawing consistently. For some context, it's part of a post OV story that I've been working on for a while. This scene in particular takes place at a dining hall, where there's a celebration banquet for Grandpa Max's birthday. It's been a year after the events of the OV finale, and Ben hasn't been talking to most people, including his friends. He barely even texts Gwen and Kevin at this point, both of which are worried about him. He hasn't talked to Rook in a while as well, trying to push everyone and anyone away.

-------------------------------------------------------

Being there felt like torture. All of the stares and glares he got was enough to make anyone go crazy. But that was normal to him. The hero was more-so unsettled by the newer looks of concern being casted upon him. He had to admit that he didn't exactly look his best at the moment, despite the suit and tie.

Ben finished what was left of his punch and gracelessly tossed the cup into a trash bin. Officially feeling like he was done for the night, the human stared at the glass exit door. It was muddled with the reflections of party-goers, faces he'd rather not see again. He'd decided that he would just text Gwen that he felt sick and left the party, so that she wouldn't worry about him disappearing.

Huffing, he took a few steps forward before he felt a familiar, fuzzy hand connect with his. Time itself felt like it froze around him, like everything else had vanished.

Tracing his arm downwards, Ben's eyes landed on said hand. That's all he needed to see. Not having the energy to tug away, he stood there, expecting to be reprimanded and scolded about how he was being a horrible friend, or a bad plumber, or being generally a nuisance. Something that would make him angry enough gain the energy to yank his arm away and leave.

But that didn't happen.

Ben got goosebumps when he heard the delicate, yet raspy voice of his former partner hit his ears. Instead of the anger he'd prepared himself for, he heard hints of worry and fear. "You do not have to leave. We can talk, Ben." The hand holding his squeezed ever so slightly tighter, almost as if it was trying to beg him for an answer. Ben tilted his head to face the ground and took a deep breath. If he said anything now, he knew he couldn't back out afterwards.

Refusing to answer felt like the worse option, so talking it was. He would try his best to keep this interaction as short as he could.

"Rook, you... Chose to leave." The human winced slightly at his tone before quickly continuing his thoughts, "And that's great! For, uh, you. But... that was your choice. There's nothing to talk about. You're doing great, and I'm happy for you." Ben could almost feel Rook's eyes burning the back of his neck, and his chest ached. He could feel the familiar twinges of fear pulling at his muscles, telling him to get out as fast as he could. Telling him that he's in a dangerous situation, and that he needs to leave. To run, to fight, hell, even to hide.

But there was no danger here.

Just Rook.

The air was thick, as both beings could sense the tension rising. Even as nothing physical was happening around them, emotions were rapidly swirling and brewing in their heads. Neither of them quite knew what they were doing, and neither of them knew just how big that divide between them was until it was opened up.

The seconds of silence were deafening. Ben felt as if he wanted to scream and yell, but his throat closed up, and his thoughts flew throughout his mind like a tornado. Rook, on the other hand, just needed a few moments to collect his.

"You know that this is not healthy. I..." Rook paused, "I know that I should not push you with these things. But Ben, what you are doing is..." He inhaled sharply, and gave a quick sigh before giving up on that thought. He replaced it with one with a gentler tone. "I see those dark circles around your eyes. I see your shakey hands. I saw how you tensed up when Kevin touched your shoulder." Rook looked to the side, and let go of Ben's hand. "I do not care if you tell me what is wrong. I feel as if we both know that I know. But I will not stand by and let you hurt yourself like this."

The genuine care and concern caught Ben off guard. He'd spent the last year berating himself with words that probably weren't true. And he'd been doing so alone. But that's what was for the best, right? He didn't need to burden his friends with those thoughts. This was his battle, and his battle alone.

Ben turned slowly to meet Rook's stare with his own. Those vibrant, green eyes. Staring at them once made Rook happy, but looking at them now pained his heart more than ever. His friend looked so exhausted, so... lost.

"What do you expect me to do, Rook? You left, Gwen left, Kevin left, and it's fine. I'm fine on my own. I want to be on my own. And..." He stuttered, "I want you guys to be happy!" Ben forced a small smile, a smile all too familiar to Rook. The smile that he plastered on his face when fans ran towards him, and camera crews followed him around. Rook never thought he'd be on the receiving end of that smile.

The revonnahgander stepped slightly closer to Ben, which made the hero's facade drop a bit. As much as he wanted to back away, the human's legs were frozen in place. All he could do was turn around, to look away from his alien friend. Ben felt everything slowly collapsing, but why? He's always been able to keep things in, to keep everything at bay, to never show that things actually get to him. Why was it so difficult to control his emotions all of the sudden?

That's when a long, warm pair of arms wrapped around him like a safety blanket. All of this thoughts fell apart after that. Tears formed in his eyes, and dripped slowly down his reddened cheeks. Grabbing the arms slung over his shoulders, he held on tight. It was an awkward hug, but then again, they were awkward people. And, for the first time in years, he let himself cry.

#ben 10 #ben 10 omniverse #rook blonko #b10 #ben tennyson #ben ten #fanfic #finally showing off a bit of writing?#im honestly a baby when it comes to tumblr stuff im so new #i have no clue how to work this site for i am dumb #but if anyone is interested in this story id love to give some details #its very long and acts as a full arc based continuation of the prime timeline #with different villains and seasons and whatnot #i still have a lot to work on but i can try my best to answer without spoiling everything lol #its nowhere near done just so you know #but id love to hear ideas as well #all of yall are so creative its amazing

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squadron-goals · 8 months

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Battle of the Somme Part 1

22.8.16

We are to be deployed to the Somme. Lying with 8 other officers in an empty house where mattresses have been laid out. The people on the second platoon were worried that I wouldn't come with them. Paulicke said they kept asking if I wasn't coming back yet. Tomorrow morning we will drive to Les Mesnil by automobile. We had a discussion with Wetje about experiences of the Battle of the Somme. It must be nice there. Shelling with mostly heavy calibers up to 38 cm, no trenches, only large shell craters. No more lines, but groups of fighters scattered widely across the terrain, losses enormous. In the event of the strongest fire, the position may be left towards the front (!). The order to counterattack does not necessarily have to be followed by the subordinate commanders, but rather at their discretion. The mood seems to be good everywhere, although a man from the 4th shot himself yesterday. In the evening we had a meeting with Major Möllenhof. We're coming to Guillemont! Poor regiment. It will probably be a battle in the village. There's a grumbling noise on the left again. Still held lessons with my platoon, something like this: three quarters will probably die, but always with joyful courage! In the evening everything was still up and running. An uncertain feeling awakens with the sunset, anxiously dreamy, quite right: the eve before the battle. Bieling and Schmidt are my range estimators, Paulicke is my combat orderly. So tomorrow morning off to Guillemont, it can't cost more than your head.

23.8.16

Went to Les Menils in trucks early in the morning. Camped in a large meadow during the day. We have a good anti-aircraft barrier here, there was a constant barrage of fire at the front. I have the most honorable task for the day after tomorrow, namely I have to keep my platoon at the exit from Guillemont. There is a spot to our right that cannot be occupied due to the heavy fire that comes with it during shelling. This is the break-in site. So, in my calculations, getting away safely is out of the question, but keep coming, gentlemen, come what may. In the evening we moved to Sailly. All around was a kind of fire of a strength I had never heard before. We sat with not exactly happy thoughts on the meadow, where the knapsacks were left behind and the storm pack was slung around our shoulders. A man from the front picked us up to show us the way to our overnight accommodation. He said unpleasant things. This Battle of the Somme seems to be a product of madness. He told of staying in holes without communication or approach trenches, of terrible artillery fire, of incessant attacks, of the mutual slaughter of prisoners, of thirst, of the stench of corpses, of the decay of the wounded, and much more. At 11am we went to Combles. Grenades and shrapnel were already hitting right and left, everyone understood that the dangers now began. In Combles, which was of course completely destroyed, we were housed in cellars. I lay down in a large cellar with the first three groups. The house had apparently just been cleared out, overturned cupboards, books, clothes, etc. were in a havoc. The best find was a box full of coffee. At first we couldn't make sense of this recent destruction, then we remembered that we had been pushed back 7 km here, so this was a peaceful stage until recently.

24.8.16

As early as 4 a.m. I was startled out of my bed. We received steel helmets. The steel helmet gives the soldier a fierce appearance. Then we had a meeting with Wetje in the catacombs. The entire time we've been here I've heard at least 1-5 cannon shots every second. The experienced Somme warriors say that there is a relative “peace” at the moment. At the moment I'm sitting on an upholstered chair in the room of the brewery owner Lesage and writing in my diary. In the room there are 4 open cupboards, two chests of drawers, a washstand, a sewing table, a sewing machine and a stroller. Three smashed mirrors and a picture hang on the walls. There is incessant artillery fire. Every now and then a lot of splinters whistle through the leaves of the trees. We didn't let all the hustle and bustle bother us, but made ourselves comfortable in the Lesange house, cooked coffee and lunch on the stove and snuggled up comfortably on chairs and blankets. 9-10 a.m.: The barrage became incredibly strong. The earth shook and the sky seemed to be a cauldron. Hundreds of heavy batteries fired, countless projectiles crisscrossed in the air. I got severe ear pain. Red flares rose from the front. Combles was enveloped in a cloud of smoke, and Corporal Diekhoff of the third platoon lost his mind. At 11:15 we set off in front of the catacombs. The fourth platoon came up, everyone was offered food so that they couldn't carry any more. Sievers handed me a cooking utensil containing at least 4 pounds of butter. Then it started, the 2nd platoon in front, one after the other. We had a bad start. Just outside the village a few pieces of shrapnel hit close in front of us. We walked across the open field in constant fire, often at a run, often standing in the fire in the open field when the guide didn't know the way. It was forbidden to lie down, even when the fire was strong; each man had to walk upright behind the man in front of him so that communication was maintained. Nevertheless, the 3rd and 1st platoons suddenly disappeared. Moving on! Right and left past dead people. Things came to a halt in a ravine in front of Guillemont. Lie down! A disgustingly sweet, intrusive stench, there were dead people everywhere. Soon we came to a ravine again, had lost our way and turned around. At most 5 meters from Vogel and me, a medium-sized grenade hit the ground, showering us with dirt. Moving on! People collapsed on the path, all I could do was shout angry words at them, then I had to go after the person in front of me. Forward through a knee-deep ditch punctuated by huge funnels. There were dead people in there. Disgusting feeling stepping on such soft dead people. And always that sweet smell. At 1:30 my platoon occupied the right wing of our position on the left near Guillemont. There was a wounded man lying in the ditch and people were stepping on him. A Bavarian sergeant handed me the section. The right is unoccupied because there is always heavy fire. The trench was nothing more than a chain of huge shell holes filled with pieces of uniform, weapons and dead people. The terrain was plowed through by the heaviest shells. There wasn't an inch that hadn't been plowed many times. I reserved a hole in the ground 1.50 wide, 1.50 deep, 1.50 long for me, Bieling, Schmidt and Paulicke. A simple hole dug into the ground. In this we are to endure in every fire. What a difference compared to Monchy! At 3 o'clock I sent Hippe and Schmidt to the right to seek contact. They naturally got lost in the countless funnels, encountered short beginnings of tunnels and saw that they faced the wrong way, and realized that they were in the English position. Guided by several flares from me, they came back and reported that the ditches were filled with English dead. We also have dead Englishmen lying on the edge of the shell holes. We covered several dead bodies with dirt; you couldn't walk past one of them without hearing the commotion of the worms. His thigh was split open and a whitish, slimy mass was burrowing inside.

25.8.16

At 6 o'clock it became light. Everyone disappeared into the holes and slept. At 11 we cooked lunch on hard spirits and ate despite the smell of corpses and blowflies. At 11:45 the first heavy shot was fired near us. From then on, shells came down at intervals 50-20 m away from us. Wohlgemut saw a group of Englishmen playing cards in a shell crater and fired at them. Schmidt was grazed on his coat sleeve by a splinter. Otherwise everyone is safe and sound. Sitting in my hole and writing as English planes are close above us sending siren signals to the artillery. 3:00: Things get shitty. Constantly putting heavy calibers in close proximity. Simons, who was a little to the right of us, was buried and immediately dug up again. He's completely exhausted. The dirt keeps flying around our ears. At 3:30 the guards came from the left, they couldn't hold on any longer, their holes were closed. I had to force them back to their places. If someone gets wounded now, there's no question of bringing them back. There are five of us sitting here in and in front of our little hole. People sit here in groups, brooding. 4:15: The first shot went off in front of us. A dud. If it had exploded, the earth would have collapsed on us. Bad sign. 7:00: Enormous caliber near Guillemont. Guillemont only differs from the rest of the terrain in that the shell holes are whitish, otherwise everything has been plowed up and the stones have been ground into dust. 9:40: Huge barrage of fire to our left. Our left wing is also affected. Some artillery fires too short, so green double stars appear. Now barrage at our position too. The shots are usually a little behind the trench. A noise that you can't shout a word through. Splinters whistle, but everyone stands like pillars. It makes you want to be a soldier when you see steel helmet after steel helmet and one planted side gun flashes next to the other. Strange, a fire like never before and almost all impacts behind the line. That's why I had no losses in my platoon. Due to the fire in the forecourt, the dead were turned over again and a huge stench wafted through the area. At 11:15 the fire finally died down. It must have cost nerves after all. In the evening the 4th train brought coffee and water, I was very worried. Sievers sent me a bottle of wine.

27.8.16

It was raining heavily in the morning. We didn't mind that as the dried out feeling on the palate isn't so bad once the dust is gone. The Battle of the Somme is characterized by the fact that there is always too much and very good food to eat and too little to drink. In the rain we repeatedly tried to drive out the countless swarms of flies that inhabit our tiny hole, but they always returned with reinforcements. That morning, Fussilier Knicke from my platoon received a machine gun shot straight through the chest. He has to stay here in the dirt until the evening, it's very hard. At 2:15 the English put a few exceptionally big things close behind us. We are now very hardened against this. Afterwards a man from the 4th group called me. I had to look over a torn English leg and saw a crowd of Englishmen rushing forward at Guillemont station. Despite our perilous situation, we aimed at them, but didn't seem to have much success. It was only last night that we noticed how many dead people were lying here. With the best will in the world, we couldn't dig a hole without coming across piles of bodies. Here a head sticks out, there a butt sticks out, there an arm sticks out on the ground, there lies a skull. Took my walk to Wetje in the evening. When I was in front of his shelter, a large piece of shrapnel flew directly in front of my stomach, thank God it was at the very end of its trajectory. Our relief arrived at 1 a.m. I instructed my relieving platoon leader, gathered my people and then we set off. The first thing that hit was shrapnel. A man walking in front of us lay down on his side. Shot through the wrist. We dragged him with us, even though he moaned, and only left him in a tunnel entrance. The worst corner was still a valley and a hill where the shrapnel always flew over in groups. Run! The things exploded 10 m to the right and 10 m to the left. By some miracle my platoon made it to Combles safely while everyone else suffered casualties. Now we walked leisurely to Combles, where we drank. Then we went through Combles, where there was a huge stench of corpses in various houses, mostly from fallen civilians. Lieutenant Pape told me that he had found a dead young girl in a house; some of the civilians were still in their beds. Combles had never been shot at during the war and received around 20,000 heavy shells in the big attack on the first afternoon. You can imagine the chaos. From Sailly we had to march another hour to the forest camp in the Bois de Hennois. The people were very tired, the march was made even more difficult by ammunition columns, medical cars, etc. that were coming towards us. I got so angry about a driver who was brazenly driving towards us in the middle of the street that I almost shot him. We finally arrived in the Hennois forest, where people were still pitching tents. I went into the officers' tent, which was already finished, and slept until the next noon.

#ernst jünger

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