#i was focused on drawing and the speech bubbles had no place to go… | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

heliads · 3 years

Text

Your Meaning (Part One)

Based on this request: “Protective Darkling imagine. Reader is a Fabrikator and has doubts about why he would spend so much time with her.”

masterlist / part two

It is silent in the Materialki workshop. Absolutely quiet, save for the clicking of gears, the rub of metal against metal, the silent bubbling and fizzing of the Alkemi workspaces. Most of the Fabrikators have gone away for the night, the few sleep-deprived souls choosing to retire to their quarters instead of perusing their equations and blueprints for another few hours. This alone is a rarity, made even more so by the fact that you’re still here when everyone else is gone. There is quiet, that is, except for the sound of the door opening at the far side of the building.

Instantly, you have to try your hardest to silence a groan. You had rather enjoyed the quiet, the dark solitude of the dimly lit rooms, and the thought of being reprimanded yet again does not really fit in with your picturesque little study session. You dust your hands off on the corners of your purple kefta, doing your best to keep grease stains to a minimum. All the while, the footsteps draw closer, although they’re quiet, as if being muffled by something. Strange.

You’re still focused on the workspace before you when the footsteps stop. There’s no one else in the room to draw their attention, and the intruder paused directly behind you, so there’s no doubt in your mind that they’re here for anyone else except you. This would be fine, did you not know exactly who it was behind you and why they were there. In fact, this person has made this visit several times before in the past week or so, and you’re not looking forward to another chastising speech.

“Sorry, David, I know I messed up on that alloy, I’ll fix it I swear, just please leave me alone for tonight-”

The words die off in your throat as you turn around and come face to face with the man standing before you. This is not David Kostyk, Grisha Durast clad in your same purple cloth and gray embroidery, but someone altogether different. This man is taller, walks with more stature. That, and he’s wearing a kefta of deepest black, a color only allowed for one person and one person alone- the Darkling. Also known as the highest Grisha there is, someone who would most certainly have control over your entire future and whether or not you should be allowed to live it out after addressing him so casually.

You feel like you’re about to melt away into the room. This is so not how you wanted to speak to the General of the entire Second Army. Already, you start reaching for your apologies, but already, you know that it’s too late.

“Sorry, I didn’t know you were there, I thought you were-”

He cuts you off with a wave of his hand. If you didn’t know better, you’d say that the one man with the sheer power capable of performing the Cut and slicing a man in two with his abilities is almost smiling at you.

“You thought I was David? I’m afraid not, but I’d almost like to see how a conversation like that would have gone. I can’t see David as anything more than someone whose sole passion is burning the midnight oil.”

You swear that sounds like a joke, but he’s still looking down at you with that same humored look of stone that you can’t be sure of anything. “He usually is, sir, but he hasn’t been pleased with the alloys of late and he can be plenty threatening when he wishes it.”

This time, you’re certain of it- the Darkling laughs. Completely. It would be a sight to remember, were you not terrified that he’s going to find fault in this and relegate you to a life of secretarial work spent cleaning up oil stains after hapless students. “As humorous as it is to picture David Kostyk as threatening, I’m afraid not. Actually, your alloys are what I’m here to talk about in the first place.”

You straighten up a little, some of your fear starting to leave you. “Oh?”

He nods. “They were excellent. Grisha steel is a bit of tricky business, but your latest alloys have posed some difficulties to even my shadows. They’ll be excellent for outfitting the regiments in the latest armor designs.”

You should accept this compliment, seeing as it’s far more than you deserve, but you can’t help but tack on another sentence in a quiet tone. “It wasn’t meant to be for the military. It was supposed to help, not hurt.”

You regret this the instant the Darkling’s eyes flash back to you, but there’s intrigue in his eyes, not disapproval over you speaking out of turn. “I appreciate that viewpoint. It feels like everyone here is clamoring for war. It's nice to hear that someone has another ideal future for our Grisha.”

Our Grisha. If you would have told the you of a week ago that you would be discussing ‘our Grisha’ with the leader of the Second Army, you would have assumed that David had worked you too late and you’d simply started hallucinating.

You start to utter another apology, possibly for contradicting him and possibly just because you have no idea what to do, but he holds up a hand. “I don’t want to be your superior, Y/N. We’re all Grisha here, are we not?”

You can’t deny this, as odd as it sounds. His eyes start to flicker past you, towards the clusters of metal and grease still lining the worktable. “Are you still working? It’s well into the night, maybe even the dawn. To be honest, I wasn’t expecting to find you here at all.” He extends an arm to you. “Walk with me? We should both be going to bed.”

You stare at him. For a moment, the Black General looks almost self conscious. “What?”

This moment, with him questioning you as if he’s one of your Fabrikator peers, almost makes you start to laugh. “No. It’s nothing, just- Well, I didn’t expect you to talk to any of us at all, let alone be concerned about my sleep schedule.”

He laughs now, the sound surprisingly clear for someone of his tenure as a military leader. “I’m not just a general, Y/N. I’m a man too.”

You can’t help but smile. “Alright, then. I’ll go with you.”

Before you can stop yourself, you place your hand on his arm and allow him to lead you back through the workroom, up through the twisting halls, and back towards the main center of the Little Palace. He talks with you all the while, surprisingly open for someone who seems to have so many enemies. He pauses before he leaves you that night, saying something about how he hopes he’ll see you again. Truth be told, you realize that you’re hoping for the same.

You end up talking with him a lot more, as it turns out. It just so happens that Aleksander keeps visiting the Materialki workshop, partly to see how the projects with Grisha steel and bulletproofing kefta and new weapons and all sorts of Durast and Alkemi experiments are progressing, and partly to talk to you. That’s another new thing, isn’t it? He’s asked you to call him Aleksander, his true name. He says it makes him feel more like him, like by hearing his name he remembers that he has a chance to be another Grisha instead of the Black General or the Darkling or any one of the selfless, soulless names this country has cooked up for him.

You meet up with him on nights like tonight, when you end up working later than you probably should and he drops by the Materialki workshops to escort you out. He says it’s for the best, that he wants to make sure his finest Durast has enough sleep to function, but there’s a certain spark that lights its way into his eyes whenever he sees you that makes you almost think that there might be a second reason for his late night visits.

He stands a few paces away from the door when you finally emerge, leaning against the wall and thinking through all sorts of dark and dangerous things that the leader of the Second Army must consider while currently at war, as Ravka always seems to be. He straightens up when he sees you, smiling that little smile that tells you that the sight of you seems to banish all thoughts of Grisha lives won and lost from his head.

“Out already, Y/N? It’s only a short while until midnight. I’m practically impressed.”

You roll your eyes, reaching forward to playfully hit him on the arm. “I’m wounded. I might start turning in earlier just to make you stop bullying me, Aleksander.” His smile takes on an additional glow when he hears you use his name. It’s enough to make you want to use it a dozen times over.

You were working in a slightly different compound tonight, to best study the reactivity of different Grisha-created minerals on Grisha steel, so you’ll have to face a walk across the grounds before reaching the living quarters of the Little Palace. You groan inwardly when you step through the door and study the air outside- dense clouds, the night barely lit by stars. It’s freezing cold, and you’re wearing the thinnest of your kefta. It’s not nearly enough to keep you warm, not on a night like this. To be fair, it was perfectly suitable for the hot, stuffy interior of the workshops, but not for the walk across the grounds. This is going to be freezing.

However, you’ve barely noticed the chill for a few steps before Aleksander is stopping, reaching out and pulling his cloak around your shoulders. You stare first at the heavy drape of black falling into place around you, then back at him.

He simply shrugs at your awestruck expression. “What? You looked cold. I need you alive, and not with pneumonia.”

You shake your head slightly. “I can’t take your cloak! You’ll freeze, and Ravka needs its general, not another Durast.”

You try to hand it back to him, but he refuses, adjusting it back on your shoulders instead. “I’d rather you have it. Honestly.”

You really should put up more of a fight and give it back, but the night air is so cold and you’re already warming up due to the thick layer of fabric draped around you, so your protests quietly die off into the night. Every now and then, Aleksander looks back at you, seeming to smile in spite of himself at the sight of his color on you.

He doesn’t make it all the way back to the Little Palace before a servant dressed in the pale blue and gold livery of the Grand Palace rushes up to him, saying something about how he’s needed by the King’s advisors.

Aleksander nods, allowing the servant to retreat back into the night, then grimaces at you. “Work never ends, I’m afraid. I’ll see you later, Y/N?” He looks almost hopeful to ask the question, like he might genuinely want to find you again. You nod, and his smile deepens. “Goodnight. Sleep well. I’ll see you in the morning.”

With that, he’s gone, disappearing into the shadows of midnight like he and his creations are one and the same. You’re left alone in the darkness, a smile rising to your lips of its own volition. If you didn’t know better, you’d almost say that you’re lovestruck over this man, what with his cloaks and farewells and all the times he seems to seek you out.

You must still be thinking of him, and everything he could mean to you, because you’re distracted on the walk back through the Little Palace. In fact, when the other Grisha stare at you as you walk through the halls, intent on heading straight to bed, you don’t understand why until a particularly rowdy group of Corporalki stops you in their tracks. Their leader, a headstrong young brute named Stojan Litvak, points brutishly towards you.

“Where’d you get that cloak, Durast?”

All of a sudden, you remember that you’re still wearing Aleksander’s cloak, the dark black of the fabric like a beacon against your skin. You’d meant to give it back to him, but he’d had to leave so suddenly that you’d forgotten. Now there’s no way to hide it, no way to explain it. You fish around for an explanation, but with so many angry-looking Grisha staring at you, you can’t seem to come up with anything.

As it turns out, Stojan isn’t looking for a reason. Instead, he sees this as the perfect opportunity to let loose with everything he’s been holding back for a very long time. He steps forward, eyes flashing with rage. “See, I don’t think you understand something. General Kirigan isn’t interested in you, not at all. Sure, he may seem like it, when he visits your little grease shop or when he paws off his cloak onto you, but he doesn’t mean a thing of it. He’s just trying to make sure you’re all being productive, that you’re not slacking off.”

He takes a few steps forward as he says this, and you can feel yourself silently backing up. “I mean, think about it. That’s all you like to do, isn’t it? Think. Why would someone like him, with as much power as him, ever pay attention to a quiet little Fabrikator? If he looked at someone, it would be one of us. Maybe even an Etherealki. But a Durast? Please. If he says that he thinks about you more than just what you can make for him, he’s lying through his teeth. I hope you know that every time you wear his little cloak.”

He lets you go now, laughing with his friends through a kvas-scented leer. You rush past them, past the curious stares and the jokes and the eyes watching you go. When you end up in your room, you lock the door behind you and collapse to the wall. They’re all right, aren’t they? There’s not a single reason why Aleksander would ever let you get that close to him without wanting something in return. He’s a general, used to choosing his brutal tactics no matter who gets hurt. That’s all you are to him, isn’t it? Another pawn to be played in one of his games.

So, you stop your late night visits. You close up earlier and earlier, not wanting to be caught alone with him when it’s only you in the workshops. He only shows up late, when no one else is there to see him talk with you. You’ve noticed that before, or maybe you didn’t want to admit it to yourself. And why would he let anyone else see him there, to be honest? Where they could spy and watch and whisper? He wouldn’t want anyone to know that he was spending time with you. It all makes sense.

You don’t talk to him for days, then weeks. He tries, sometimes, lingering at the edge of your vision on the usual weekly visits to the Materialki workshops. These are during the day, for when it’s most useful for him to seem like the purple-shrouded Durasts and Alkemi are just as important to him as his ruby and sapphire soldiers. He looks at you then. You look away. None of it is real, and all of it hurts.

Aleksander lets this go on for a few weeks before he takes things into his own hands. You’re walking through the halls of the Little Palace, intent on getting back to your rooms so you can spend another night alone, when you see him out of the corner of your eye. He’s approaching you, which wouldn’t make sense. Why would he want to be seen with you in front of all of the Grisha still milling around? Yet here he is, lengthy strides outpacing yours. His tone is formal and quiet when he asks you for a word. You pretend you do not hear him, nodding once as is expected of you before continuing on. It is all anyone would expect of a meeting between a Durast and the leader of the Second Army. It is, apparently, still a surprise to him.

“Y/N.” His voice is more urgent this time, and he stops walking in front of you. You’re forced to stop as well. He stares at you, somewhat incredulous. “You could talk to me, you know.”

You raise an eyebrow. “In front of everyone? Why would we want that?”

Aleksander looks surprised. “What are you talking about?” He glances around, then lowers his voice. “Is this about the cloak? I didn’t know that you would react that way, and if it made you uncomfortable, I’ll never do it again, I swear.”

You know what he’s talking about. Later that night, you had the cloak sent back to him, no note, no nothing. Just the folded black cloth. He must think that by giving you his colors like that, he’s upset you. “The cloak was fine.”

He lets out an irritated breath. “Then why are you avoiding me? I haven’t spoken to you for weeks, Y/N. You could be dead for all I know.”

Your tongue sharpens before you can control it. “That would be a hassle, wouldn’t it? All the weapons I could have made for you, gone.”

He scoffs. “What are you talking about? We’ve never once talked about weapons.”

You move to walk past him, but he stops you. “Fine. If not weapons, then architecture, or blueprints, or literally anything you could try and get out of me.”

Aleksander shakes his head softly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I never wanted anything from you but your company.”

You almost want to laugh. “We both know that’s not true. Why would you ever talk to me if you couldn’t get something out of it? You crave power more than anyone here, why use it on me out of nothing but good will?”

He stares at you, shocked, then reaches down and takes your hand, starting to guide you through the halls. You try to pull away, but he simply keeps moving. “It’s not like that. I’ll prove it.”

When he stops moving, you realize that you’re at the doors of his war room, a place usually off limits to anyone but his military advisors. Why are you here now? He unlatches the door, pushing the dark wood open to reveal a dimly lit room full of maps and markings designating troop movements.

However, he doesn’t pay attention to any of this. Instead, he’s crossing the room, pulling a folded stack of papers out from a desk drawer where they’ve been carefully hidden beneath a pile of smaller texts. He walks back to you now, holding them out as if they're proof of everything you just can’t believe. You take them hesitantly, thumbing through them. Instantly, your breath catches in your throat. He’s written down all the little things you said to him, ever since you met. All the details that you never thought he’d pay attention to, they’re all here. That’s your favorite flower, your favorite part of the Little Palace. All the times you said you keep forgetting a cloak, a tool, anything.

Looking at it now, memories are starting to flash themselves before your eyes. Two days after you’d told him your favorite flower, the plates at the Little Palace had suddenly had a redesign to include them in the border designs. New tools had kept appearing at your desk after you’d mentioned you’d forgotten them, fascinating texts present when you’d made an offhand comment about how one phenomenon or the other fascinated you. All this time, he’s been keeping careful notes, all about you. Not about your work or what you could do for him, but you.

You stare back up at him. “Why-” Your voice breaks off. “Why do this?”

He takes a step closer to you, then another. “You’re not just your work, Y/N. You never were to me.” His hand is on your cheek, guiding your lips up to his.

You can’t help but smile. “I never knew.”

He laughs as well. “I never told you.” He leans away now, something like confusion in his eyes. “Why did you start avoiding me, though? I thought it was something I did.”

You shake your head. “No, it wasn’t that. It was nothing.”

He takes your hand, forcing you to look back at him. “What was it? I can tell that it was something.”

You sigh. “Someone told me that someone like you would never even give them time of day to someone like me. That was all.”

Instantly, the warm look in his eyes vanishes, replaced by the cold general you’ve heard so much about. “Who was it?”

You give him a look. “I’m not telling you. I can’t have you hurting your soldiers.”

He raises an eyebrow. “So it was one of my soldiers? Maybe a corporalnik?” When you don’t respond immediately, the edge hardens in his eyes. “They should know better.”

You lay a hand on his arm. “They’re fine. They won’t bother me anymore. It’s alright.”

And it is- you know you have Alekander now, not just as an uncertainty but with the knowledge that he really, truly cares for you. The opinions of upstart Heartrenders can’t bother you anymore.

When you walk through the halls of the Little Palace the next morning, you pause by the same group of Corporalki that you’d seen before. The one who’d spoken to you before, Stojan, looks at you tremulously. He’s covered in these long, dark scars that almost look as if they’re made of shadow. It appears that Aleksander has found out who spoke to you after all. Stojan’s eyes flicker from your face to the kefta you’re wearing.

It’s new, actually. It was delivered to you late last night. It looks the exact same as everyone else’s, except the embroidery detailing the purple cloth is a darker shade of gray. To any observer, it might even look black. You look at him, the shadow-scarred boy who had the nerve to torment you. Then you tug your black-lined kefta tighter around your throat, and smile.

requested by my dearest @underc0vercryptid

grishaverse tag list: @darlinggbrekker, @cameronsails

800 notes · View notes

makeste · 3 years

Text

BnHA Chapter 295: So How Are You Holding Up (Because I’m a Potato)

Previously on BnHA: Horikoshi randomly and graciously decided to answer all of our long-standing questions about Mr. Compress, including “is he secretly hot,” “is he secretly related to that Robin Hood thief guy,” and “is he ever going to use his quirk to chain chomp a hole right through his ass??” with the answer to all three being “yes, of course.” As for our follow-up questions, “sir, is Mr. Compress going to die,” and “holy shit,” his answers were, respectively, “wait and see,” and, “I understand, really I do, but that isn’t actually a question.” Well, he’s got us there.

Today on BnHA: Horikoshi finally ends the War arc with the speed and grace of an overworked college student scrambling to BS their entire midterm essay with five minutes left before the deadline. Deku’s Spidey Sense is all “what up, I exist, p.s. you’re in danger kid” like oh shit, no, you think?? Compress is all “I’m not gonna die but I am going to pass out and be captured” and honestly, at this point I’ll take it. Spinner is all “Tomura you can have this one last Souvenir Hand I found that was in the oven for too long” and slaps it on his face because HE’S JUST TRYING TO BE HELPFUL, SHUT UP. Dabi is all, “[currently in a marble].”Tomura is all “actually, I’m AFO.” AFO is all “hahahahaha” and summons all of the remaining Noumus to cart him and Spinner and Dabi off to safety. Deku is all “DAMMIT TOMURA I’M REALLY MAD AT YOU FOR KILLING, AND I QUOTE, ‘AN UNBELIEVABLE AMOUNT OF PEOPLE’, BUT AT THE SAME TIME, GET THIS, I TOTALLY WANT TO SAVE YOU TOO! LMAO ISN’T THAT WILD.” Fandom is all “OH MY GOD, NO WAY, is what we would say if we had literally never met Deku before, I guess.” And then the arc just ends, lol. See you in the new year, kids.

WAKE UP, LINK... I MEAN, DEKU

jesus christ Vestiges, not a one of you guys has got any chill at ALL. LISTEN TO ME. THIS CHILD IS DEAD. HE IS DECEASED. LOOK AT HIM. HE’S LYING THERE ALL DAZED WITH HIS ARMS AND LEGS TURNED INTO GREEN PUDDING AND YOU’RE ALL “GET UP LAZYBONES” LIKE I SWEAR TO GOD. CAN HE JUST REST?? CAN YOU ALL JUST CALL IT A DRAW WITH THE VILLAINS ALREADY SO WE CAN FINALLY END THIS TRAUMATIC ARC AND MOVE ON TO THE NEW “TRIAGE AND ROBOT LIMBS FOR EVERYBODY” ARC INSTEAD

LIE BACK DOWN YOU IDIOT!!

no you didn’t pass out because of a ~heatwave~, you passed out because he set you on fire while you were out here shooting Blackwhip out of your mouth with your SPINDLY ACCORDION LIMBS dangling uselessly from you like WINDCHIMES you RIDICULOUS BOY

“where’s Todoroki-kun” oh shiiiiiiit. right. god I hope someone caught him. BAKUGOU OWES HIM A FAVOR, HOW ‘BOUT IT

OH NEVER MIND HE APPARENTLY CAUGHT HIMSELF??

Todoroki Shouto has really highkey been the MVP of the entire fourth quarter of this arc. he deserves the world, and odds are all Horikoshi’s going to give him are lasting trauma, and a souvenir shirt that says “I survived this stupid arc and all I got was this t-shirt”

anyway now Deku’s being hit by a Lightning Bolt of Realization or some such? idk what’s going on, but I bet you it’s related to Tomura waking up again

OH SHIT??

LOL WHAT. THAT’S IT?? SPIDEY-SENSE?? I mean we all predicted Spidey-Sense being one of his quirks like ages ago, so Well Done, Us, I guess

but also, seriously?? all of that drama and intrigue about the fourth user’s quirk and this is what we end up with? what was All Might being so cagey about then? how did this dude die? I need answers goddammit. new, better answers lol

maybe it’s something to do with the fact that Deku keeps talking about how his head hurts?

I mean, for Deku of all people to be all “ouch that hurts”, it must really fucking hurt, you know? like oh my god Deku are you dying

lmao and SPEAKING OF PEOPLE WHO APPARENTLY DON’T FEEL PAIN

this man is out here FROLICKING, half-naked and half-torsoed, AND STILL FEVERISHLY RATTLING OFF HIS MONOLGOUE. YOU HAVEN’T EVEN ESCAPED YET YOU DINGUS. did watching Dabi pour bleach over his head inspire you to think of interesting new ways you could abuse your own body for the sake of Theatrics?? why are villains Like This

anyway so now Mirio’s punching him, because what else are you even supposed to do in this situation

I read this speech bubble three times in a row very carefully this time around just to make sure I was reading the words right. and then looked for a T/L note below. and there was none. whatever RHA, at least you all are out here enjoying yourselves

wait what?

I guess he hasn’t woken up yet after all?? so then wtf is Deku’s Spidey Sense getting all worked up about. I mean to be fair there’s danger all around them still so having a Spidey Sense in this kind of situation is kind of like bringing a smoke alarm to a BBQ

now what

wait did he put them back in the marble?? or is that panel just meant to show us how they were in the marble earlier?? Horikoshi please make this less confusing, I’m already having trouble staying focused as it is. and on top of everything else Compress is cascading blood like Niagara Falls right now and I’m starting to wonder if you really are going to kill him off

anyway so Mirio is still in mid-punch, and now he’s reaching out to punch Spinner with his other hand. heh. Mirio please be careful Tomura is right there, and I swear to god Horikoshi IF HE LAYS A HAND ON HIS SWIRLY BLOND HEAD SO HELP ME I WILL MAIL YOU A VIAL OF MY TEARS

okay seriously what the hell is happening

when you attach?? everyone?? to your body?? whose body?? who is this??

oh wait okay it’s a flashback to Tomura talking about his Hands

lmao this is so disjointed, I can’t tell what’s a flashback and what isn’t and whose thoughts these are lmao I give up. I’m just going to fire up a bunch of question marks until this starts making some goddamn sense. ???????

??????

????????

-- !!!!!!!!!!!

okay hold up. so did Spinner just slap Tomura’s last remaining Signature Fashion Hand onto his face just now for absolutely no reason?? is that what’s going on?? and fuck me but it actually worked too, lmao. is your buddy unconscious and unresponsive to stimuli?? no problem, just slap ‘em in the face with a burnt and shriveled severed hand. works every time

p.s. I SWEAR TO GOD HORIKOSHI. IF YOU TOUCH MIRIO!!! HE’S A GOOD BOY LEAVE HIM ALONE

??????????

OKAY WELL. I STILL HAVE NO IDEA WTF IS HAPPENING, BUT AT LEAST MIRIO’S NOT DEAD. KACCHAN GOT BLOWN AWAY THOUGH SOB. HOW IRONIC THAT THE GOD OF EXPLOSION MURDERS WOULD BE MURDERED BY AN EXPLOSION WHILE I WAS BUSY SAYING “OH MY GOD”

ohhhhhh, okay. so this is AFO’s narration

and that’s a partial answer to the question of “why did AFO bother raising Tomura up as his heir if he was planning on taking over his body the whole time.” apparently it makes it easier to control him. joy :’)

also this image of a potato wearing a Tomura wig is sending me fjkllkhl

oh my god he summoned all the Noumu to him like Aquaman and his sea creatures. this whole situation just keeps on getting better

-- oh hell no. oh fuck me, fucking shit

SHIT SHIT SHIT. I’M SORRY SPINNER, TOMURA CAN’T COME TO THE PHONE RIGHT NOW

oh my god. I fucking hate everything right now oh my god

I GUESS WE FIGURED OUT WHAT DEKU’S SPIDEY SENSE WAS WARNING HIM ABOUT, THEN ಠ_ಠ

fucking great!! so I guess nobody is getting a happy ending today, then. the heroes got their asses handed to them (sorry Compress, it’s a figure of speech, didn’t mean to be disrespectful); Deku and Kacchan died; Shouto’s evil brother came back from the dead to ruin his life; everyone and their dog lost various limbs; and the villains have now lost Twice (dead), Compress and Machia (presumably going to be captured), and now their fearless leader’s body has been completely taken over by AFO, which is such an unsexy development that it managed to completely undo all of the Mr. Compress Sexiness from last week. goddamn it

DAMN IT HORIKOSHI ARE YOU REALLY GOING TO END IT LIKE THIS

up close Hadou’s face is looking pretty rough. :/ that’s going to scar over isn’t it. at least she’ll look like a badass

meanwhile I appreciate that Horikoshi drew what looks to be a little puff of air next to Kacchan’s mouth, just to reassure us all that he’s not actually dead. that’s fine. you just lie there then. also his wound really is in the exact same place as All Might’s and it’s giving me all kinds of feels you guys but whatever I’m not gonna sit here dwelling on it all day

AND POOR SHOUTO. IS HE STILL CRYING OMG. AND ENDEAVOR, WAY TO DO NOTHING STILL. THE ALL TIME CHAMP OF SITTING AROUND AND STARING, GOOD FOR YOU

ARE YOU FOR REAL, ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS RIGHT NOW

(－‸ლ)

lol

“peace out, loser.” “SHUT YOUR TRAP, HO.” quality encounter right here

anyway so he’s blasting Deku with something and Deku’s just flying back all unconscious-like. so then, what even was the point of all that, huh

oh I see, it was to lead us into one last Deku monologue to close this arc out

oh my god Deku if you say you’re going to save him I will turn around and do a cannonball into a ballpit of feels right now, don’t do this to me

OH SNAP I THINK HE’S GONNA THOUGH

DID HE LOOK LIKE HE NEEDED SAVING?? I MUST CONFESS YOU AND I ARE OF A MIND HERE, YOUNG BROCCOLI. YES IN SPITE OF ALL THE MURDERS. WHAT CAN I SAY IT’S COMPLICATED

by the way I just have to point out here, that after all of those impossibly pretty close-ups of Hawks’s unconscious face, Horikoshi really did my child dirty here lmao

he looks like a squished cockroach. THAT’S MY BABY BOY

and it looks like the cavalry is finally on its way too! took them long enough. so I guess they can take care of any of the remaining Noumu stragglers, but first let Deku finish his speech. listen up Deku I really need you to say something cool and iconic to cap off this thus-far admittedly underwhelming Last Chapter Of The Year, here

AHHHHHHH YES HE REALLY DID IT HE SAID THE THING

well he thought the thing, anyway. close enough. I’ll take it!

so this is really the end of the arc then! or at least I hope, good lord. anyways, all right then so let’s do a quick status check:

it looks like the Noumu are hauling Tomura and Spinner away to safety, but it doesn’t look like they managed to save Machia or Compress. this honestly might be in Compress’s best interests though. the heroes can get him some medical help along with Kacchan and Endeavor and everyone else

Dabi is apparently hidden inside Spinner’s scarf, but do they have any way of releasing him without Compress there to undo the quirk? will he be all right in there. like how is he going to get food and water and air and stuff lol. does it wear off after a bit? can Compress undo it when he wakes up, even if he’s in custody? is there a distance limit on it?

and Skeptic was presumably turned into a marble as well, but Compress didn’t bother mentioning him at all. nobody cares about poor Skeptic lol

and bonus AFO theories status check:

Dad for One - AFO called Deku worthless and hasn’t seemed to take the least bit of interest in him despite getting to see his fancy SIXQUIRKS up close and personal. so if he is his dad he sure as heck is a terrible one, that’s all I can say

All for One for All/Deku is a horcrux - well the Spidey Sense seems to offer an alternative explanation to why Deku could sense AFO’s presence, but on the other hand it doesn’t explain why AFO was able to sense Deku’s as well (seeing his dreams and such). still thinking there’s a connection there, guys, idk

AFO is the final villain - five words for you: “EVERYTHING IS FOR MY SAKE.” is that concrete enough yet lol. pretty sure this arc marked both the beginning and end of Tomura’s brief stint as the Big Bad. Deku’s got it in his mind to save him now somehow, and we all know what happens when Deku starts getting determined to save people. look out AFO

as for the heroes, they’re all varying degrees of Fucked and I think it’s honestly too much to even take stock of at this point. maybe if I get a rush of hyperfixation in the next couple days or so I’ll do a separate post analyzing the impact of this arc and where things currently stand and where they might be headed from here

but in the meantime, ngl, this chapter was kind of a hot mess lmao. but whatever, I don’t even care because at least he managed to get all of it done within the allotted 17 pages, meaning that next week (or rather two weeks from now, sob) we really can get moving onto the aforementioned Triage arc! BRING ON THAT ANGST. I am so fucking hyped goddammit

#bnha 295 #all for one #midoriya izuku #shigaraki tomura #mr. compress #spinner (bnha)#bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #bnha manga spoilers #makeste reads bnha #idk why but this chapter was so exhausting to get through lol #I've enjoyed this arc so much but I guess at the end the fatigue just hit me all at once #almost 40 chapters we've been doing this #that's one chapter for every year iida has been alive #still it sure was epic though #now bring on that angsty aftermath

276 notes · View notes

laurensprentiss · 3 years

Text

Jouska [Hotch x Reader]

Chapter 7:

Warnings: Panic attacks, anxiety, lots of angst. Emily Prentiss’ cameo! Will reader ever catch a break? Doutbful.

Word Count: 3,842 (It’s a long but a good’un)

———

Perhaps home is not a place but simply an irrevocable condition.” - James Baldwin

———

You’ve been operating on autopilot since that day. For around a week and a half now, you work from home, run your errands, come home and find yourself staring into nothing, sitting in your apartment alone. You’ve been dodging calls from Hotch, your dad, Emily and now your ex, too, since he’d been back in town.

You’d stormed out of the building that day on wobbly legs, willing yourself not to buckle or fall on the floor, your breath shaky and shallow. You’d somehow managed to keep your composure in the cab home, staring out of the window, your brain feeling like static, incomprehensible, confusing and far too busy.

You were surprised though, at your outward composure, surprised that you hadn’t even felt the need to cry, not even so much as a lump in your throat anymore. The adrenaline had seemed to be wearing off on the journey home, you’d even give a weary smile to the cab driver as you got out of the car. But you’d been so preoccupied with your thoughts that you hadn’t noticed the same black sedan from earlier that day, tailing your cab again.

Once you’d finally keyed your door closed, though - you’d sunk to the cold tile of your apartment floor and let the shame and embarrassment of your naivety wash over you, cursing yourself repeatedly, sick with rage. Not rage towards Hotch, or McCall. Rage towards yourself. Furious that you’d even let yourself entertain any sort of delusion about Hotch, that you’d even allowed a flutter of hope to bloom in your chest.

Mortified that he’d been actively avoiding you while you’d been waiting for the phone to ring, like some desperate, naive little girl.

You’d cried then, which had only infuriated you more. What did you have to cry about? He didn’t owe you anything. He had a job, and he was doing it well, considering he’d been the one to draw up the profile. He had a whole life, a past with Haley, and most likely, a future with her, too.

You’d heard a knock on the door behind you that had startled you in the midst of the tears streaming down your cheeks. You’d heard Hotch’s voice call your name from behind the door and you’d had to fight to not gasp or cry even more as he’d called out to you.

“Please. Just let me in. Please just let me explain myself.” He’d pleaded. He didn’t quite understand what he would say even if you did open the door, but the desperation he felt to see you, to just say something that wasn’t met with anger by you, far outweighed any rational thought he could muster right now.

You’d clasped both hands over your mouth and brought your knees to your chest to stop any sound from escaping, willing yourself to hold your ground just this once. To pull back some respect for yourself, to try and grasp at anything that would let you feel like you were on even footing again.

“Please? I can hear you in there, you can yell at me, hit me, scream at me, just please let me say what I need to say to you!” You’d just held your breath and focused on the rise and fall of your chest to keep yourself grounded, your eyes closed.

No.

You’d heard some shuffling and muffled voices through the door, Agent McCall’s voice familiar to you at this point. You’d listened hard as you’d heard him tell Hotch to leave.

“Ben-”

“Now.” His voice was stern. “Go talk to Barnes. I’ll handle things here.”

He’d hesitated for a moment against the door before he’d finally left, his body weighed down with the immense guilt, his stomach like concrete.

This wasn’t going to go away.

Once you were sure he’d left, you’d gathered yourself up off the floor and splashed some water on your face, willing the puffiness in your cheeks and eyes to subside. In your vulnerability, you’d felt intensely alone and mistakenly picked up the phone, needing a friend to confide in.

“Hello?”

“Jordan?”

“Yeah? Who’s this?”

“It’s me.” You could hear the gears turning in his head. You’d said your name through the phone and he chuckled.

“Hey. I wasn’t expecting your call. How’ve you been?”

“Can you come over?” You’d said abruptly.

He paused. There was no answer for a while and you’d had to look at the phone, to double-check it hadn’t been disconnected.

“Hello?”

“I- yeah. I’m on my way. See you soon, babe.” You’d shuddered slightly at his pet name for you, you never had liked it when you were together and it had felt even stranger now. But you needed someone to help you through this, and he was nothing if not familiar, even if you hadn’t worked out the first time.

Unbeknownst to you, though. Hotch had stayed parked across the road and had seen Jordan enter your apartment building around thirty minutes later. He’d frowned and leaned across the console to watch the figure walk into the lobby right as he’d seen your apartment lights turn on. He’d turned his attention to your apartment window then, as you’d drawn your curtains, the sight of you making his breath catch. He’d gripped the steering wheel tight as he’d maneuvered himself to desperately get a better view of you, only to see Jordan behind you as you’d pulled the fabric closed, his heart dropping and a lump forming in his throat.

He’d never even had you, but he’d lost you.

———

You give yourself a once over in the mirror again , dusting off some lint that isn’t really there off of your dress, turning to make sure that it fits right. Taking a couple of deep breaths, you step out of your bedroom.

“Ready, ma’am?” Agent McCall asks.

You simply nod and grab your purse as Agent McCall leads the way out of the door, confirming the address of the bistro over his earpiece. You have a strange knot in your stomach, the kind that develops when you have to see an old friend who you’ve lost touch with. The kind that develops when you have a psycho stalker and you’re estranged and furious at the one person who’d slowly become your comfort.

You’d decided that you had to try to make an attempt, a real effort to keep the small number of friends you did have, finally taking Emily’s calls and even proposing lunch. She’d responded excited, and had taken care of the reservations for you, said it’d be her treat.

You glance up towards agent McCall, a question bubbling up in your chest, but you lose your nerve at the last minute. He spots you from the corner of his eye but doesn’t attempt to respond or invite further questions, simply setting the SUV into drive and taking off. You bite the inside of your cheek, repeatedly looking at your watch, your index finger scratching divots into the side of your thumb. As you pull up to the restaurant, you spot two undercovers on either side of the block. MPD, you deduce.

Agent McCall opens your door for you, confirming something on his earpiece as he escorts you out. “I’ll be waiting right here, Agent Hotchner will be here soon to relieve me, so he’ll be escorting you back, ma’am.” He rattles it off like a rehearsed speech, but there’s a hint of levity in his voice.

Your head whips towards his direction. “Hotchner? No, he’s not on my detail anymore.” You quip back, the panic and excitement making for a strange cocktail.

“As of this morning, he is.” He ducks his head. “I’m sorry, I know what happened and I completely respect that, but the Ambassador made the decision and Barnes agrees. I’m sorry ma’am.”

Your chest flutters slightly at that, futile excitement, dread and anxiety spreading to your bones at the thought of seeing Hotch for the first time in so long. You huff and take his hand.

“We’re not done with this.” You mutter to him.

You turn to find Emily’s dark eyes watching you from the outdoor seating area of the restaurant as you cross the road, squinting slightly as if to see if it’s really you. When you laugh, she immediately sets her napkin down on the table, and shouts your name, her arms outstretched almost immediately, her face breaking out into a grin.

Oh Emily.

You close the gap between you, taking quick little steps in an awkward kind of run, as you meet her hug, her body almost crushing you. Air leaves your chest in a whoosh as you both laugh, rocking slightly to catch your balance. She rubs your arms up and down when she finally releases you, leading the way to your table. “Oh! It’s so good to see you!” She breathes.

You immediately relax, the dread and nervousness washing away. No matter how long it goes between visits with Emily, you could probably always count on the fact that you’d pick up right where you left off. You felt almost silly now for even thinking it’d be any different. The stress of the past month melts away and you finally feel at ease for the first time in a long time.

“It’s good to see you too!” You laugh, sitting back. You chance a quick glance over the SUV, but you give yourself away. Emily follows your eyes and spots Agent McCall parked on the other side of the road, watching you.

“Hey. What’s with the goon squad?” She points her head to the left to point to McCall, glaringly obvious that he’s there to watch you. “I spotted two UC’s a block away too.” She questions.

You sigh. It’s not really a question you can avoid, besides, she’s a close friend and confidante. And she’s so sharp, always aware of her surroundings - almost unsettlingly so. But if anybody could relate, it would be her. You briefly explain that somebody had been leaving you notes and gifts for a while which is why-

“You didn’t go to college this year - that’s right.” She nods, finishing your sentence for you. She winces slightly with sympathy as the pieces fall into place for her. She shakes her head in disbelief. “I- how long?” She asks. Her eyebrows are pulled together, her brown eyes wide and vulnerable.

“Since last summer. Dad had some old friends with the FBI so they're my security until we catch him, I guess.” You pick at a hangnail, the reality of the situation making your heart sink more every day.

“I'm sorry.” She exhales. “First a breakup, then your father’s whole heart scare, and then this?”

You look up at her. “How did you know about Dad?”

“Ambassador Prentiss.” She laments, sarcastically.

“Ah.”

“Mother had her aide get in touch when she didn’t hear back from your father.” Her voice softens as she reaches her hand across the table to stop you from ripping the skin straight off your finger. “Why didn’t you just tell me? I may not have been much help, but I’m always here to listen. You gotta reach out more.”

A lump forms in your throat as you come to the crushing realisation that you didn’t really have many friends at all, no real friends of substance that you could really confide in, anyway . Sure, you had society friends, acquaintances, the children of other DC officials but your heart sinks. You have nobody except your father and Emily - and your father, well. He wouldn’t be around forever.

You squeeze her hand back and thank her, retreating back to your lap and scratching your thumb again, toying with the skin. Her eyebrows quirk as she watches you, aware of your nervous tics.

“What is it?”

You snap your head up. “Hm? What? Oh- nothing.”

“Don’t even. I know when you’re lying. What is it?” Her eyebrows raise, the way they do when she challenges someone. She did always have the uncanny ability to see right through people.

You sigh. “Fine. It’s about the breakup.” She slumps back in her seat and rolls her eyes, her head shaking.

“You did not. Tell me you didn’t.”

“Don’t kill me. But, around two weeks ago, I kinda slept with Jordan.” You wince.

She inhales sharply through her teeth, shaking her head. “Come on. I thought you knew better! Why would you do that? He’s nothing but trouble.”

“I. I don’t know, it’s a long story. I haven’t seen him since, though.” You try to justify to her with a laugh, throwing your hands up in defence. “He keeps trying to call, but I just let it go to voicemail. If anything, I remembered why we didn’t work the first time around.”

“Uh huh.” She raises her eyebrows and huffs out a laugh. “Good. He gives the creeps.” She mutters.

You let out a laugh then, a real laugh and you can’t remember the last time you felt this light. You think for a split second about how you did feel this light and happy around Hotch despite the impending danger, but you erase the thought from your mind quickly, refusing to allow yourself to go down that road again.

The mere split second thought makes your chest drop, though - another wave of sadness washing over you just as quickly, and it’s only exacerbated by the fact that you’re going to have to face him soon. Your emotions seemingly do a rapid 180.

You feel grateful to be here with Emily, with someone to talk to, but the hole that you’d tried to fill with Jordan a week ago had only left you feeling more empty and dissatisfied with your life. You’d asked him to go home later that night, unable to look at him, or yourself. All you could think about was how Hotch was probably happy, living in domesticity with his first love and you were spending the night alone - again, while someone out there probably wanted you dead.

You flash Emily a quick smile and excuse yourself to the ladies’ room as she carefully watches you enter the restaurant. Once inside you try your best to hold in the tears, the harsh lighting oddly illuminating the top of your face, washing you out. You grip the edges of the cool sink, trying to even your breathing but the tears come as though they have a life of their own, falling down your cheek.

Your eyes sting and your chest burns as you finally let yourself cry again, you feel it long overdue, the loneliness, the isolation, the danger. All of it rearing its ugly head. You try to stifle the sobs from your chest, desperate whimpers escaping from your throat as it gets harder and harder to breathe.

A door handle turning suddenly startles you, making you jump. You clear your throat, your voice coming nasally. “Occupied.”

Loud knocks come this time, making rapid contact with the wood on the other side. “I said it’s occupied!” You call out, louder this time.

It’s silent for a moment before loud thumps and grunts come from the other side, as your heart drops, your knees weak. Your wide eyes dart around the bathroom when the door starts to heave, the hinges rattling as the person on the other side attempts to break it down.

You back away with shaky legs, trying to get as far away from the door as possible. You don’t even realise when you start screaming for help, the noise in the bathroom rising, suffocating you. A high pitched whine penetrates your skull, your hands and face sweaty, heart thrumming as you shake. Your vision tunnels and you feel nausea rising in your stomach.

The thumping suddenly subsides, a breathy laugh coming from the other side, as you fall to the floor, the cold hard tile against the back of your thighs. You find it hard to breathe, your vision is clouded by black spots, and you realise you’re still calling out for help, your voice screeching.

“Ma’am?” A young woman’s voice comes from the other side. “Ma’am are you in there?” She asks, panic rising in her voice.

You hear Hotch’s voice on the other side, speaking to the woman, followed by the sound of keys. Relief washes over you temporarily but you can’t bring yourself to get up or even move slightly, your body frozen. The young woman manages to open the door after shakily fumbling with the keys, Hotch brushing past her.

The sight of you on the bathroom floor, sweaty, cried out and so vulnerable does something to him he can’t quite explain. You’re curled into a ball in the corner of the bathroom under the sink, your knees against your chest, your hands clutching your head as you rock slightly. He’s furious and devastated in equal measure, doesn’t quite know how to proceed. Protocol dictates he ask you what happened, take you to a secure location, obtain evidence.

Screw protocol.

He gets down on your level, shrugs off his suit blazer and wraps it around you, not bothering to move you off the wall, the blazer covering you like a blanket. He whispers off the young employee to block off the bathroom area, his hand reaching up to push some matted hair off your face.

He doesn’t bother asking if you’re okay, the question entirely redundant if your current state is anything to go by. Figures it’s futile, patronising, even.

“Hey, it’s me. Can you hear me?” He whispers. Your eyes are still closed and you’re hyperventilating, droplets of sweat on your forehead as you rock back and forth. He hesitantly brings his other hand to your face, his thumb rubbing your cheek. “Hey.”

You hold onto his forearm. “Aaron?”

“Come here.”

You close the small amount of distance between you and lean forward to throw yourself into his arms, hanging onto his shoulder as sobs wrack your body. His arms awkwardly wrap around you, his blazer and your legs in the way, but he holds you close nonetheless, his hand running up and down your back as he shushes you. He remembers reading once, that even pressure around the ribs can help with nervous system dysregulation so he squeezes tight, whispering encouragement into your ear.

“It’s okay. It’s okay. You’re okay. I got you. Breathe with me.” He doesn’t let go as he breathes exaggeratedly, wanting you to take his lead. His presence allows you to find a tandem with the rise and fall of his chest while he rubs smooth lines up and down your back. “That’s good, you’re doing really good, sweetheart.”

He has a lump forming in his throat and rage bubbling in his chest. He thanks God that he’d arrived here just in time and made the decision to run into the restaurant to speak to you when he did. He’d heard the sound of you screaming from the back of the restaurant right as he was about to ask the waitress if she’d seen you, and saw red as he’d sprinted through the booths and tables to get to you.

He was going to kill this son of a bitch.

You fall limp in his arms as your breathing regulates, your chest and the back of your throat aching like you just ran a marathon - your head feels like a brick. You let your eyes flutter closed and bury your face into the crook of Hotch’s neck, inhaling his scent. You remember back to the day you first met, almost four months ago now, the cold Virgina air, the rain, the way he’d given you his blazer - your body relaxes slightly.

The noise of the hustle and bustle outside the bathroom area starts to become louder as you finally start feeling present again, feeling returning to your hands and feet.

You hear a familiar voice right outside. “You need to let me in, it’s my friend in there.” You blink your eyes open.

Ma’am. It’s a crime scene, I’m afraid you can’t go in there.” A stern voice replies.

“What? A- a crime scene? Let me through.” She says defiantly.

Emily.

You hear a commotion and footsteps approaching, a shadow getting bigger as you release yourself from Hotch’s arms, using the back of your hand to wipe your face. She appears in the doorway then, a horrified look on her face as she gasps, the waiter trailing behind her, an embarrassed look on his face.

Hotch turns to look at her and back at you, his eyes narrowing as he looks at you, concern etched on his face as you communicate wordlessly.

He raises his eyebrows.

You okay?

You nod.

Yeah.

“Honey.” She gasps. Hotch moves over to the side, standing up and offers Emily a tight smile as he brushes off his pant legs and hands. She sinks to her knees on the floor, sitting next to you, her arm around your shoulder, inviting you close to her. Her other hand rubs your thigh gently, and you lay your head on her shoulder, your hands wrapping around the one she has in your thigh and you squeeze. Her other hand gently brushes over your hair, as she inhales and exhales with you, her comforting presence something that you’d been sorely missing.

Hotch signals to excuse himself to Emily and she just nods, allowing him to leave. She doesn’t ask what happened, she doesn’t speak, she doesn’t move. Just offers herself to you as her heart breaks a little at the sight of you.

It’s around ten minutes later that Hotch returns, voices overlap through police radios as he shoos a police officer away. He crouches down to your level, a small smile on his face.

“Hey.” He rubs a hand on your shin. “We ready to go?”

You heave a breath. “Yeah. Yeah, get me the hell out of here.” You huff. You glance at Emily. “You're coming right?”

“Of course.” She whispers with a smile, her hand squeezing yours. “I’m gonna grab some stuff from my place first, okay? I can be at yours in an hour.”

You nod. Hotch holds out his hand to help you up, collecting his blazer and draping it around your shoulders, rubbing them as he does, to reassure you. He places a hand on the small of your back, nodding at the waiter as he shows the three of you out of the back exit, Emily walking behind you. Hotch’s car is parked right outside the service entrance in the back alleyway, and you smile up at him, thankful that you wouldn’t have to walk out to the front again.

“I’ll see you soon, honey.” Emily hugs you as you wrap your arms around her waist, squeezing tight. She places a protective kiss on your temple and nods at Hotch as she walks around to get her car. You watch her turn the corner and take a deep breath.

“Hey. Let’s get you home.”

———

< Prev | > Next

------

Tags: Please let me know if you’d like to be tagged!

@oreogutz @andromedasstarship @galacticnerd-78 @izzyl13 @dinopossum @crying-river @purpledragonturtles @gabbysblogthingy @euphoricmidoriya @archiveofadragon @yoshigguk @swiftingday @jeor @ivebeenthinkingboutu @bauslut @vashanatasha

#aaron hotchner #hotch x reader #aaron hotchner x reader #hotch smut #hotch fluff #hotch #cm fanfic #cm fic #cm fic rec #criminal minds

107 notes · View notes

prettybiching · 3 years

Note

Okay you are an angel for doing this but can I have a Jon Ossoff one where the reader is a Senator please... I’m very scared that he has a secret tumblr and can see this but fuck shame. THANK YOU

Look At Me

Pairing: Jon Ossoff x Senator!fem!reader

Warnings: 18+ mature content, oral (male and female receiving), orgasm denial, unprotected sex (use protection, children), praising kink? hair pulling, cursing

Word Count: 4,985 words

Note: In this fic, Jon wins his race on 5th January instead of the 6th. The insurrection still happens and I’ve left the possibility of a second part open if anyone wants it (it will take place on the day of the inauguration/his swearing-in)

Also this was heavily inspired by Why Don't We's song 'Look At Me' so you can listen to it while reading <3

This one is a personal favourite of mine so hope you guys enjoy

Being the youngest Senator in the United States Senate wasn't as easy as it seemed, especially when you're a woman. You spent the past two years working twice as hard as your constituents for them to take you seriously. Thankfully, the hard work paid off as you smoothly rode your way to a second term with a fierce and no-nonsense reputation.

With a satisfying national election out of the way, the entire country's eyes were on the Georgia state run-off elections, including yours.

As soon as you'd secured your own Senate seat, you threw yourself onto Jon Ossoff and Reverend Raphael Warnock's campaigns. Your relationship with the former was turning out to be an interesting one, to the say least.

The two of you flirted, relentlessly and shamelessly. You were certain even the crowd in the rallies took notice of it. Yet, it was not going anywhere. At least not for some time.

"How are we on the count?" you asked, walking into the room filled with campaign staffers. Although Jon was in the lead the last time you'd heard, the race was still open.

"Ossoff is still on the lead," your chief of staff, Beverly announced, her eyes not leaving her iPad. You had decided to bring in your manpower for the last few weeks of the campaign as well. "However, Perdue is closing in."

"Shit," you cursed, your fingers curled into a fist.

"We will be fine," came another voice, calm and far more composed than yours. You felt the weight of Jon's arm around you as he swung his it over your shoulder, drawing you closer to him.

You rolled your eyes at his optimism. How did he manage to be so calm while you were losing your mind? It was so unfair.

"Jon," you dragged, turning to the side--as much as his grip on you allowed, "I thought you were meant to be in your home?" You fluttered your eyelashes at him dramatically, inducing a smile from him.

"I didn't feel like staying there," he shrugged, leaning his weight against your side, stuffing his free hand in the pocket of his pants. "Besides, you're here," he winked at you, a shit-eating grin on his face.

You hummed, unable to stop the smile curling onto your lips. "Aren't you adorable?" you cooed, taking in the scent of Jon's aftershave.

"Take me in all you want because this miss is out tomorrow," you remarked, lifting Jon's arms from around you, turning yourself around to stand across him.

"It's alright," he shrugged, not letting go of your hands, "I'll join you in two weeks."

An involuntary smile escaped your lips at his cockiness before you shook your head.

"You're something else, aren't you?" your hand curled around his bicep before the two of you began walking out of the room.

"I'll take that as a compliment," he grinned at you, every now and then waving or nodding towards the interns and staffers you two passed.

"You should," you sighed, your heart sinking a little at the thought of leaving Georgia the next day. You came to enjoy your time here more than you had expected to, it was as if you were inside your own bubble, a bubble that would burst once you left.

Jon noticed your change in demeanour and nudged you with his hip, breaking you away from your trance. "What's up, buttercup?"

"Call me that one more time and I'll break your pretty face," you warned with a deadpan glare.

However, that didn't seem you faze him. Instead, he focused on another aspect of your threat.

"Awe, you think I have a pretty face?" he teased, stopping at his feet. He took a step forward, closing in the gap between the two of you, him towering over him.

Instead of backing away, you let go of his bicep, lifting both of your hands to cup his cheeks, squishing them. "You have the prettiest face in town," you cooed in a baby voice.

You felt his face heat up in your grasp, making you smile. Two can play this game, you thought.

"I prefer yours, though," his voice came muffled as your hands made it difficult for him to speak, but you heard it, alright.

"Bitch, you should!" you exclaimed, letting go of his face, stuffing your hands in the pockets of your overcoat for warmth. "I have the face of a goddess, thank you very much."

Jon threw his head back in laughter as you mock curtsied, his face turning red. You couldn't help but join in as well, his state far too amusing for you to just stand by. You shook your head, giggling, holding onto his arms for balance.

"You know what?" he rasped, recovering from his fit. "I see why Raphael finds us insufferable at times," he said before letting out another laugh.

"Hey!" you pouted, slapping his forearm lightly. "We are adorable."

With a grin still in his face, Jon leaned in closer, wrapping his arms around your shoulder, engulfing you in a warm hug. He swayed the two of you side-by-side, "That we are."

Your palms remained pressed against his back, enjoying the way his body heat radiated off to you. His chin settled on the crown of your head, securing you in place.

"You're going to win this thing," you stated against him, your voice void of any hesitation, "and you're going to join me in DC."

"Because if you don't, I'm going to annoy you to death," you tilted your head upwards, making him move his head back.

His hands trailed down before settling on your waist, a gentle smile washing over his face, making your heart melt. He opened his mouth to respond, but before he could get a word out, Beverly's voice rang through the empty lobby.

"I've got an update---"

"Okay, are you guys fucking yet?" she asked, her mouth hanging wide open at the two of you. No doubt, the two of you looked comfortable.

Jon's laugh vibrated against you as you rolled your eyes at her words, unlinking yourself from him. However, he did not let you go too far away as one of his hands resting on your waist as you stood by his side.

You felt a remark coming from Jon, so you dug your elbow to his side, shutting him up prematurely before turning to Beverly. "What do you have, Bev?"

Forgetting about what was happening earlier, her eyes darted between the two of you, a devilish smile that you'd seen so many times before taking over. "You guys might want to see this."

The two of you walked back into the office room, ignoring the lurking eyes of the campaign volunteers and interns on you.

The atmosphere inside the room was airy and cheerful, a transformation from what you'd seen earlier. You knew this meant some positive news.

Jon's campaign manager held a massive grin on his face as he spoke, "You're going to want to start brushing up on that victory speech of yours."

"They're almost done with counting the votes, the race is about to be called anytime," someone else added from afar, eyes fixated on their computer screen.

Your lips split into a toothy grin, your heart swelling with excitement. It was happening, Jon was going to win. Your eyes went over to his face, he was smiling, but more than that, you knew he was relieved. A weight was lifted off of him.

"Guys," Beverly called out, drawing everyone's attention towards her. Jon's campaign manager joined in, both of them looking at one another for confirmation before they turned to Jon.

"The Associated Press has called the race for..." she read from her iPad, "Jon fucking Ossoff."

The room erupted into screams, everyone letting out a loud cheer for Jon. You jumped at your feet, your arms snaking around his neck to pull him against you. He responded by planting his arms around your waist, holding onto for balance.

You pulled your face back for a second, only for him to lean forward, crashing his lips against yours with fervour. Your stomach did backflips as you felt his hands squeeze your hips.

Your brain froze for a second, unable to process what was happening before you kissed back with the same ardour, your hands resting on his jaw to pull him closer to you.

After a few seconds, the two of you are forced to pull back for air, already missing the taste of his lips and your eyes widen at him in surprise. "Holy shit," you gasped, "did you just kiss me?"

His nose creased as he smiled down on you, his hands finding their way back to your waist, oblivious of all the onlookers. "I think I just did, Senator."

"We are going to talk about this later," you arched your brow at him pointedly before untwining from him. The kiss could wait, for now, this was this moment. He belonged to the people right now, he could be yours later.

Everyone began congratulating him, bombarding him with handshakes and hugs as you stepped to the side, Beverly joining you.

"Don't," you warned, looking ahead, avoiding the teasing smile on her face you could see from the corner of your eyes.

"I didn't say anything," she threw her hands in mock surrender. "All I'm saying this, about damn time, L/N."

You rolled your eyes, your slightly swollen lips curling into a small smile as you met Jon's eyes from across the room.

-----------

With the Georgia election results in, you had another itinerary to fulfil in DC. You had a flight to catch the next day, early in the morning so you could join your colleagues in certifying the Electoral College votes. It was merely symbolic. However, recent words of rejection from the far-right made the event much more significant. You needed to be present.

A few months ago, you would've been ecstatic at the prospect of being part of history, but it seemed like your heart had other plans.

"You know you can have more than one drink, right?" Beverly's voice announced, taking a seat beside you. You deviated your eyes from the crowd to her, her usual pantsuit gone and replaced by a white woollen bodycon. She, along with others, had finally let loose and you knew they deserved it. No one worked harder than them.

"I'd rather not wake up with a hangover in the morning," you retorted, taking a sip of the drink you'd been nursing for quite some time. "You look nice," you added, "not that you don't look nice every day."

She rolled her eyes at your compliment, scoffing, "Please, I look like I ran out of a burning building at work."

"That's so not true," you gasped, playfully swatting her arm. "Take the compliment and shut up."

"Anyways," she began, ignoring you, "there comes your loverboy." Your eyes followed her extended finger and at the end of it was a neatly dressed Jon, his eyes glistening against the dimly lit room, a lazy smile on his face and his usually set hair, unruffled.

Beverly slides out of her chair, waving lousily at you before leaving the two of you alone. You didn't miss her poor attempt at winking at Jon to which he let out a chuckle before taking Beverly's seat.

"Hi," you propped your chin atop your knuckle, a smile creeping up your face as your heart fluttered at his sight. Damn it, you're whipped.

"You look," he took in a sharp breath, eyeing you up and down, "breathtaking."

Your mouth ran dry, you bit into your cheeks as you felt your face beginning to heat up. "You don't look too bad yourself," you teased, leaning closer to Jon.

Abandoning the drink on the table, your hands trailed towards his tie, fixing it as his eyes remained fixated on you.

"You know it's getting late," he remarked absentmindedly, pulling your stool closer to him.

"Hm?" you pretended to feign oblivion, your hands still on his tie. "What about it?"

He closed the gap between the two of you, his lips hovering over your ear, "No one will miss us."

With that, you tilted your head to the side, pulling him by his tie as you captured his lips with yours, he responded instantly, his hands coming up to cup your cheeks. His lips were warm and soft, tasting of alcohol as they moulded around yours. You let out a sound of approval, a fire igniting within you as your mind dizzied from the smell of his cologne.

The two of you pulled back, panting. Jon's pupils were blown, his lips swollen as he stared at you with a sheepish smile. Your chest heaved, and you reciprocated his expression before taking his arm, pulling him out of his seat.

You made a beeline for the exit door, pushing past the sea of people, your legs moving fast as Jon followed suit. You're hit with a cold breeze as you make your way out, your navy blue dress and the coat draped over your shoulders not enough to withstand the chill, goosebumps rising on your arms.

Neither of you speaks on the elevator ride to your hotel room. Your bodies, every touch, every movement, does the speaking for you. Jon's standing behind you, one of his hands firmly planted on your hips as he bends his head down, brushing aside your hair. His fingers are cold against the delicate flesh of your skin, making you shiver.

You feel his lips on the nape of your neck, slowly and painfully, his kisses trailing down your exposed skin. Just as a moan escapes your lips, the elevator dings open and this time, Jon's the one leading you out.

You're a panting mess, and Jon's far too collected for your liking as you reach the door of your hotel room. Your hands are shaky as you attempt to retrieve your card from your purse, failing a few times to unlock it before the door clicks open.

As soon as the door closes behind you two, the atmosphere has changed. You throw your purse and the coat off of your shoulders on the floor. You're about to free yourself off your stilettos when Jon's voice stops you, "Keep those on."

You oblige, halting your actions before turning around. Your eyes are fixated on Jon as he discards his suit jacket, the clothing joining the pile on the floor. You bit your lips, stifling a whisper as you watch his arms flex, untying the tie from around his neck.

You watch as he frees himself from the restraints of his clothing while you take your own sweet time, unzipping your dress, leaving you only in your bra and panties.

Jon’s tongue darts out to lick his lips at your sight, and you make your way towards him, pulling his face down towards yours, meshing your lips together once more, and it’s different from before but not any less good. He presses against your back and then moves his hand down to your ass, squeezing it through the lace of your panties and you let out a whimper in surprise.

“Did you like that?” His voice has dropped an octave, almost a growl and wetness pools at your core at the mere sound. You nod desperately. God, it’s so good, and you don’t realize you’re walking backwards until your legs hit the bed and you find yourself planted on the mattress.

Jon situates himself between your open legs, kneeling on the floor and you wrap them around his shoulders, pulling him closer to you, and then he’s kissing you again. Your hands move to his back and trace your fingers along his exposed back - so toned and warm, and he shivers when your nails graze his skin.

He's so fucking perfect, you cry in your head. How many nights did you spend with your hands between your legs playing out the exact scene happening in front of you? Far too many and the sight of him between your thighs is enough to make your pussy clench.

"Changed your mind?" He asks, a teasing smile on his face as he runs his hands along your legs and you look at him with wide eyes, shaking your head furiously.

"Never," Your answer makes him chuckle, and he leans over, his knees off the floor as he kisses you once again. The kiss is intense, filled with hunger and desperation, and you fall back a little, bracing yourself on your elbows. His hands leave your legs before going to your waist, trailing them up until they reach the clasp of your bra.

He unhooks the fabric, your chest exposed to the cold wind, making your nipples harden. “God,” He murmurs, resting his palm against your breast, and then he squeezes. You moan out, and then he’s focusing on your nipple, rolling it between his fingers. It feels so good you could sob, and you bring your fingers up to run through his hair.

Jon looks up at you with one raised eyebrow and then moves his head to your chest, pressing wet, open-mouthed kisses against your chest. Your back arches into his mouth, squeezing tightly on his black strands, a choked-up cry leaving your mouth as his teeth graze your nipple.

Godgodgodgodgod. Feels so fucking incredible your brain starts getting fuzzy. He’s so good at this. All you can focus on is him, now, working through his soft hair as he wraps his lips right around your nipple, cheeks hollowing as he sucks, and you groan out.

“God, Jon. Fuck.” It’s all you can say, though you’re fairly positive he gets the gist of your feelings about what he’s doing. You push yourself up, and Jon moves off of you, looking at you with his brows furrowed, confused why you push him away.

"Jon, I need you. Please," You whimper desperately.

His lips curl up slightly, and you narrow your eyes at him. "You have to be patient, doll.”

“I don’t want to be patient, I want you now, Jon, please.”

You pout your lips. Jon's head is mere inches from your chest, and when he breathes out, it tickles your breasts.

But then Jon says, “Don’t be a brat, honey,” and you furrow your eyebrows. “I said to be patient. You get it -” his hands trail to your panties, tucking at them, “when I say you can have it. Alright?”

No, you don’t think it’s very alright, actually. You open your mouth to protest, to beg Jon for it, even, and be the brat he told you not to be. His hand snakes up and presses against your mouth, and you huff.

With his free hand, he tugs down your panties - the crotch area is damp, sticky with your arousal, and you see his lips nearly spread into a smile at the sight of it.

Jon leans in and attaches his lips to your clit, flicking his tongue against the sensitive nub, and you cry out louder than you ever have before. Your legs - over his shoulders, ankles crossed at the top of his back - shake desperately, thighs enclosed around his ears.

His eyes flit up to you, and they’re so smug. Full of cockiness and all you want is to be full of him.

His tongue is magical. Your hips buck into his mouth as he sucks at your clit and then he braces his hands over your hips, keeping you pressed right down onto the mattress. Your eyes shut of their own accord and your breath is erratic no matter how much you try to keep it steady.

“Eyes open.” Jon's voice is low, and you obey him without a second thought, gazing down upon him from his spot between your thighs. He isn’t looking at you - his own eyes are shut as if the pleasure of doing this to you is too much for him to keep them open - and he moves his mouth from your clit to ghost open-mouthed kisses over your inner thighs before licking a thin stripe up your folds.

Your hips try to jerk up again, but Jon keeps them pressed down, and when you look back down at him, your eyes meet. The knot that had been forming in your stomach begins to unravel. Your thighs clamped around his head, your skin warm against his ears. Your hand is in his hair, and you grip his strands. His locks feel so soft between your fingers, and cries are streaming from your mouth.

Jon is a constant chant coming off your lips.

You swear you’re a second away from toppling over the edge of your orgasm when he pulls away. His chin is slick with your juices, and you sob out, a tear trickling down your cheek as you slowly start to come down from your denied pleasure - but it’s so bad, you hate him for this, you need to fucking cum.

“Please, please.”

Jon listens to your pleads for just a moment, resting his cheek against your inner thigh. He watches you catch your breath and then stands, and you’re on the verge of protesting, but then he grips the backs of your thighs - pulls you to the edge of the bed and then picks you up.

Your legs hook around his waist, and he wraps one arm around your back, pulling you as close to him as you can, and then he kisses you, hard and fast and passionate, and you moan into his mouth.

He plops you onto the bed once again, your head nearly missing the headboard as you sink into the soft mattress. As desperate as you are for your release, the sight of his thick bulge beneath his boxers makes your mouth water.

Licking your lips, you prop yourself onto your elbows before sitting upright, your hands travelling to his boxers, your eyes locked to his, asking for permission. Wordlessly, his fingers tangle themselves into your hair, pulling you closer.

You snake your hand down into his boxers, grasping his length, and he lets out a loud groan. His grip on your hair tightens, and you moan yourself, tightening your grip on his member.

Jesus.

He’s big. It’s all you can fucking think about, now, and you bring your hand to your mouth - spit into your palm - and begin jerking him off, slowly, still marvelling at him.

You scoot forward a little, and Jon growls underneath you. You whimper, pumping your hand faster up and down his length, and then you lean your head in and lick a stripe up his shaft, following a thick purple vein that leads right to the tip.

“Oh, fuck!” Jon's fingernails dig into your scalp, making you moan against him. You wrap your lips around the tip of his dick, hollowing your cheeks as you suck on it, and the room is filled with your noises.

Jon's hips buck up into your mouth, and you gag around him, tongue swirling around the tip of his cock.

Your mouth leaves his cock, replaced with your hands as you pump him a couple of times, and you lean forward to lick at his tip when Jon groans out and buries his hand into your curls, tugging you back and away from his cock, and your hand drops away from him. You push him down on your back, so Jon's lying on the mattress, and you’re straddling his lower stomach. Then you turn so you facing him, admiring his face - lust overtaking his features - and he brings his hand up to your cheek, stroking your skin with the pad of his thumb.

“I don’t want to cum in your mouth, sweetheart,” he murmurs, voice soft, and a chill runs up your back at his tone. That and - the cold breeze of the room. Jon places his hand on your thigh and trails it nearer to your cunt until his fingers are ghosting over your folds, and with one fluid motion, he pushes a finger inside of you. There’s not a single bit of resistance from your body, slickness making it entirely too easy for him, and you moan out. “I want to cum in here.”

Jon pushes himself up against the back of the bed, pressing his hands against your back, and you kiss him so fucking hard it almost hurts. Your taste is on his lips, and you love it, love the mixture of the two of you, love how beautiful this all is.

You reach down and take hold of his cock again, legs shaking as you position yourself right above him, lips still so close to his, and you sink down onto his achingly hard member after one deep breath.

He is big, and it almost hurts - not much, but it’s almost there. Almost - but the pleasure that fills you overpowers any ounce of pain you could feel. Jon drops his head back, moving his hands to your hips, rubbing your skin, and if Jon's feeling half as good as you are, then he’s in fucking heaven.

Based on his blissed-out face, you’d think he is.

Your head drops to his shoulder, and you swallow thickly, a tear forcing its way from your eye and down your cheek, and Jon's breathing is so heavy. You can feel him throbbing inside of you, and you need a moment before you can move, but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

You need time to value this, savouring every second of him inside of you.

You lift yourself up, legs shaking near violently, and then drop back down. Jon’s moan is nearly louder than yours, and you lean in to kiss him again as you keep moving. Slow at first, but you try to get faster.

You roll your hips and grind into him, bouncing up and down, and Jon helps you with his hands on your hips and on your waist, and his moans and cries are the perfect motivation to keep going.

“Oh my god.” your voice is breathy, a cry breaking through the words like water through a dam. “God, Jon. Oh, god, fuck.”

You rest your hands on his shoulders, leaning in again to kiss him, but you’re moving fast enough that it’s hard to land every kiss and so you end up with your lips pressed against his jawline. You want his touch everywhere - your waist and your ass and your tits and your clit - because wherever he touches it feels like electricity sparking through your body.

“Feel so good and tight around me,” Jon grunts, and you could cum just from the words. “You’re so wet, sweetheart, so - fucking - good. So good for me.”

“Jon -” your legs are aching, muscles burning, and you’re afraid of the pace stuttering, but you can hardly get the words out to tell him. You wrap your arms around his neck and use that as leverage to keep bouncing up and down.

It’s hard. Jon notices your pace slowing and holds your hips down, forcing you to take all of him in, and then he pulls you off of him with one swift motion.

You already miss his cock filling you up. He pushes you back onto the bed, and you sink into the mattress with a small grin as he presses his body on top of yours. You throw a leg over his waist, pulling him down, and then you lean up again, attaching your lips as he slides into you.

His hips are fast against yours, the pace near brutal, but you wouldn’t have it any other way. Skin slaps against the skin, and he bites at your lip, swallowing every single sob that escapes your mouth, catching your tears with a finger beneath your eye. Your hand snakes between your body and rubs at your clit, two fingers against your swollen, sensitive nub, and it’s so intense.

It’s all so intense. Jon's grunts are akin to that of angels, and with every thrust, he hits your g spot, and your fingers on your clit only add to the experience - and it’s even better when he rips your wrist from your cunt and replaces it with his own finger, rubbing tight, fast circles.

You won’t last.

You cum, and it’s violent, legs thrashing, body arching upwards. Your eyes roll back into your head and pleasure rips through your body like a fucking earthquake, and Jon's still pumping in and out of you, his fingers are relentless on your clit.

Leaning down to kiss you once more, he pushes his hips into yours a few more times, pace slowing.

“Gonna cum in you, sweetheart,” Jon murmurs.

He cums within another minute, spilling inside of you, and the warmth of his cum painting your walls could push you over the edge again. Jon’s groans are loud and brash, rolling his hips slowly against yours until he’s finished, and then he collapses right back on top of you.

Your bodies are slick with sweat and entirely too warm, but with the cold contrast of the room, you don’t mind. Your leg around Jon's waist, your arms on his neck, his head in your shoulder. Lips on your neck. It’s all so perfect.

A peaceful silence overtakes both of you, and you want to swim in it for eternity. However, you can't resist the words leaving your lips.

"How the fuck do you expect me two spend the next two weeks in peace after this?"

He laughs against your bare skin, sending a tingle down your spine before he presses a kiss on your shoulder blade.

Nevertheless, you know your coming two years in DC will be far from lonely.

#jon ossoff #jon ossoff fic #jon ossoff x reader #jon ossoff smut

69 notes · View notes

darylandbethfanforever9 · 3 years

Text

Devil’s Backbone

Chapter 7

Story Rating: Explicit, 18+

Warnings: Smut, violence, past flashbacks of sexual assault, and descriptions of torture. Racial hate, and forced abortion. Not Tony Stark friendly.

Relationships: Bucky/OC, Steve/Natasha, Billy/Wanda/Grant, past Clint/Laura, and Sam/Sharon. Eventual Clint/Yelena, and rank/Karen.

Summary: In the aftermath of the Blip, Bucky struggled to find his place among the world and the Avengers. However, when he is sent on a mission to Madripoor to investigate a young woman, he starts to realize that maybe his past isn’t too far behind him. Co-Written with WalkingPotterGirl14.

Natasha wanted things to go back to how they were with Steve before the Accords and before her miscarriage. There was a part of her that felt like she was betraying Alexei, Melina, and Yelena by loving Steve, but the other side wanted to retire from the spy life. Wanted to retire from everything. She was tired of the jobs, of keeping secrets from the people she considered family. She didn't even hate Bucky or resent him anymore, unlike Alexei, Yelena, and Melina. She just wanted Steve and the rest of this to go away. She wanted life to feel remotely normal again. She didn't want to lie anymore to any of them. Everyone had been lied too so much. She was only added onto the drama. Natasha ran herself a bath, pouring in her jasmine scented bubble bath, mixing it with the water. She sighed tiredly, trying to settle into the water, when she felt her phone vibrate. As she looked at it, she saw it was a text message from Melina. 'I need to talk to you, Alexei and Yelena tomorrow in Zagreb, Croatia urgently. It's about her!' The text message said cryptically. Natasha felt a sense of dread wash over her at the text. 'I'll need to make an excuse to Steve, Tony, and the others first,' she texted quickly. Melina replied four minutes later. 'We are your family, Natalia, not them!' Melina had messaged back furiously. Natasha closed her in frustration, breaking down in tears at her dilemma.

"Whoever hired that team to assassinate the mystery girl really wants her dead. Tell Barnes and Carter to get a blood sample from her so we can test it for DNA. Maybe she's in the international database," Fury recommended sternly. Everyone nodded but Tony shook his head. "We need to send someone else to watch over Barnes, Fury. I personally believe that he's compromised. His judgement is skewed because he's convinced that this girl might be the dead girl from the files. Who knows what he might have done with her if she was in the Red Room," Tony insisted harshly, causing most of the people to look at him in disapproval. "We can't send Belova or Romanoff? They've been sent on a mission in Zagreb, Croatia to track down a few remaining Flag Smashers. Who else can we send?" Grant asked quietly, his face bruised from his fight with a Flag Smasher during a mission in London, Great Britain. "Send in Steve. He's become really good at working undercover and Bucky trusts him," Sam suggested diplomatically. It couldn't be him, seeing as the Smiling Tiger was in Madripoor. Ross had an expression of disdain, while Tony was cold but grudgingly agreed to the arrangement. "Try not to mess up, Capsicle," Tony said coldly, before walking out of the conference room. Steve sighs a bit before nodding. "I can do that. I'm sure Bucky hasn't gotten super far. I could help him out together."

Morgan Stark was determined to make her daddy happy. He'd been sad ever since Captain America's best friend, Bucky Barnes, had been pardoned by the government and found not guilty at his trial. Her dad had gone into a rage, shouting that Barnes was a monster and anyone on Steve's side was to blame for Thanos winning. So she was going to somehow make him smile again. She was going to build an AI, like he did. She already had a name picked out for him as well. Her dad had explained to her that he had created Ultron to protect the world. Maybe she could do that again, and somehow bring him back to make not only her daddy happy but the world happy. All she knew was that she was tired of hearing him fighting all the time with the Avengers and she wanted to somehow change that. Maybe a new Ultron could do that? She had found his memory core not that long ago. Maybe if she followed his blueprints from years ago…she could, do it? She didn't want any more arguing or yelling…all she wanted was for this to end. So that was that. She was going to do it. One way or another. Daddy had a lab always near him. It would be the perfect time to do it. Maybe they could finally figure out how to end all the fighting. Maybe she'll be the cause of it. Daddy would be happy. They would see they were wrong about him. Somehow.

When Steve had arrived in Madripoor, it looked the same as it always had from before, with bright lights and big neon signs drawing in anyone from a mile away. However, his eyes were more focused on trying to get to Bucky's place. He had talked with Sharon about where to go and she had directed him willingly, leading him towards midtown where a lot of the higher ups in the crime world lived. It was also where the mystery woman lived, apparently. Hopefully they would be able to get through to this quickly. He had knocked on the door, and for a moment there was silence. He had been expecting that, considering Bucky was most certainly not expecting anyone to come by and greet him. But he slowly opened the door, and when he saw it was Steve his eyes widened.

"Where the hell did you come from?" He asks as he lets him in, giving him an embrace. When Steve stepped back, he closes the door behind him, turning to Bucky. "Lot has happened at the base while you were gone," Steve states with a raised brow. "I'm not longer in charge of the Avengers. Ross gave it to Tony." Bucky's brow raises. "You're serious?" "He did. They were upset about our choice in operation of sending you here." Bucky lets out a long sigh, going to sit on the couch at that. "We defended you the best we could, but at the end of the day, they had the last call. Sam suggested I come over here to fill out their needs." Bucky's brow raises once more. "Which are?" "Keep an eye on you." Bucky feels himself groan before standing. "How the hell am I ever going to be an Avenger in their eyes?" He asks, his voice rising a bit in anger. "Everything I do now, even after all the amends and everything I've done, it'll never work…all I want is to prove myself. I know I'm a piece of shit but…I'm fucking trying." "I know you are, Buck," Steve says gently, letting his hands rest on the man's shoulders. "I know you are. And trust me, we all see it. There are some that are just stuck in their ways that I don't believe are going to change soon. Those are the ones that, when they do inevitably open their eyes, they'll see the most change in you." Bucky snorts a bit. "That one of your little political speeches?" he asks. "No," Steve answers, shaking his head. "Trust me, I highly doubt I'm going to be doing much more than you are here. If anything, while I know how to stay undercover, if I get recognized here, it's game over." He gestures to you. "At least with you, not a lot of people know your face. Even this girl doesn't." He glances over at Bucky's hands and notices there seemed to be dried blood on it. "Speaking of that…" Bucky glances down at his hand and feels his cheeks turn red. "It's not on me, I swear – Maria wanted to interrogate the men that came, and she ended up killing them. Turns out they were sent by a woman named Melina Vostokoff. She wants to end the woman for some reason." "Well, we knew about the attack but your…hands?" Bucky sighs a bit. "I went over to help her a couple of days ago after she was attacked. Try and get more info on her. I guess I just didn't clean off all the blood afterwards." He looks up at Steve and shakes his head. "She is a mystery woman…definitely likes to keep her identity a secret." Steve nods before going to sit down next to him. "I want to ask you a question, and just respond the best you can." Bucky nods. "Are you sure that you don't know her from back then?" Bucky sighs, swallowing a bit. "I…feel like I do." He glances back at Steve. "If you saw the way she moves, and what she had – I mean, she's like a carbon copy of Nat but she's ruthless. She even had some of the same weapons. She had to be trained in Red Room…but I can't recall her for the life of me. That's why I'm trying so hard to figure out if she's truly Ana or not. Maria seems like a reasonable name but…don't know." Steve nods quietly. "Didn't you and Nat have a thing back when you were there?" Bucky quietly nods. He didn't like to think about it often. There was so much pain involved in everything there. "Do you think you might have known this girl like that?" "I genuinely can't remember," Bucky answers honestly, glancing at him. "At this point, all I'm looking for is for some way to figure out if she's truly who she says she is. Maybe after I can search more." Steve sighs but nods. "We got a lot of work ahead of us, then."

Natasha had waited patiently, her arms crossed against her chest with Yelena. It seemed it would take hours for Melina and Alexei to arrive, but when they did, it felt like ages. "You two are worse on time than I am, and that's say something," Yelena mutters. "Quiet, you two," Melina states, looking between them. "We have a serious problem, and I believe you two know what it is."

Natasha and Yelena exchange an uneasy glance, as they look at Alexei who thankfully didn't know what was going on. If he found out Melina had been lying to him for all these years then things would get bloody. "Why did you call me here, Melina?" Alexei asked suspiciously. He hadn't aged well, and it was clearly showing. Despite having the Super-Soldier, it was a far weaker version than the one Bucky and Steve had running through their veins. The woman ignored him as she drank from her glass of red wine, her eyes cold and emotionless. Sometimes Natasha wondered if the woman did genuinely care about her and Yelena, like Alexei did, or if she was just using them. "I believe that despite our best efforts to purge the Red Room, it still exists. Over in Madripoor, a young woman killed the Power Broker, before taking over the city. She's killed several people who tried to break the new rules she implemented as some shot way of a moral code. I refused to acknowledge the bitch, and I tried to kill her…but she defeated me," she said sourly, a hint of bitterness in her voice. "What did you do, Melina?" Natasha asked warningly, praying that the woman hadn't compromised Bucky. If she had, then Steve would go ballistic and raise hell if Bucky were hurt. Not to mention the others. Her surrogate mother regarded her with a cold expression that would have terrified anyone else. But she wasn't frightened of her anymore, not after seeing what she was afraid of. "I hired a death squadron to kill the little whore. She won't survive against them," Melina said confidently, causing Natasha to stare at the woman in shock, before her gaze breaks. Fuck. She had enough and was about to leave, when Melina grabbed her right wrist in a tight grip. "Remember where your true loyalties are, Natasha. I don't want you to end up like her…who chose HIM over us," Melina said meaningfully, her grip tight. Natasha nodded coldly, ripping her arm away and started walking back to her car, refusing to be intimidated. 'What have I done, god?' She thought bitterly, climbing into her car, and turning on the heating.

Ana had cleaned up her apartment after she disposed of the bodies. She had dumped Diego's body in Low Town, knowing that someone would post it on the internet. The other three remaining bodies had been dealt with. She hated the Red Room and what they had done to her. but at the very least the teachers knew how to teach all of them in how to dispose of a corpse after killing the individual. She used a luminal torch to see if any bloodstains remained, relieved when she didn't see any. Despite being near people, she desperately wanted a few furry companions. She needed something to keep her company, other than the people she would meet. She wasn't naïve. Ana knew that they would be targets but she wouldn't let anyone hurt them. She was going to ask X-Con Security Consultants if they would be willing to install security at her house. She decided to take a shower and rest up for the night. She wasn't taking any chances now, considering that Melina had tried to kill her twice now. The older woman still thought she was the same, useless, naive, and helpless little girl all those years ago. She sighed heavily as she trudged upstairs, taking off her bloody, filthy clothes and threw them on the floor. There was no salvaging them. She'd burn the clothes tomorrow. She stepped into the en suite bathroom, turning on the hot water, as she looked at herself in the full body mirror. Scars decorated her body, mainly on her chest, her right arm and some were on her back, and left leg.

Bullet wounds, knife wounds and there was a faded scar on her stomach. She touched it hesitantly, feeling a strange sense of heartache and loss for no apparent reason.

Bucky had gone into the Brass Monkey club, taking Steve with him as they saw Sharon was there. She gestured for them to join her, as they went to a table at the back, where they wouldn't be disturbed. "So, I did some asking around and apparently the woman calling herself Maria Kapitonova is using another woman's name. This is the real Maria Kapitonova. And she's been dead for the last six years, Bucky and Steve." Sharon explained grimly, showing them a photo of a young woman with red hair, brown eyes, and a scar on her throat. Bucky had known that the woman was using a false identity, but this just proved it. Deep down, he knew that she closely resembled Anastasia. Maybe they were related? "So, she's using the identity of a dead woman whose been dead for the last six years. What else have you got, Sharon?" Steve asked intrigued. They were finally getting a fresh lead. "Yeah, I was hoping you'd ask me that question. I did some digging, and Fury emailed me these files that he and Hill found at an abandoned HYDRA base in Voronezh, Voronezh Oblast. Turns out, HYDRA and the Red Room were both working closely together on a project," she said meaningfully. "Something we should talk about elsewhere." Bucky and Steve got her point and left with her to go to her house, leaving behind the bar. Once they arrived, Sharon continued from where she left off, and handed them copies of the files, closing the door behind her. "The Red Room and HYDRA discovered that the girls at the Red Room who had the Super-Soldier serum were far more able to carry a child of the Winter Soldiers. There are lists of names who were chosen for the program. The project began in the 1990′s, and a lot of the pregnancies resulted in the women dying from complications due to the babies developing quicker than a normal baby," Sharon explained gravely as Bucky read the file. He recognized a few of the names, but felt his blood run cold when his eyes drifted to two familiar names. 'Red Guardian and Black Widow - viable pregnancy. Scans confirm that Vostokoff is carrying twin daughters. No complications detected so far into the pregnancy. Vostokoff has confirmed that she has suffered no cramping, or any sign of miscarriage.' "Holy shit, Steve. What if Alexei and Melina were the parents of Anastasia and her twin sister?" He asked quietly. Steve's expression was of grimness and concern. "That's more than likely, but Natasha never mentioned that Alexei and Melina had kids," Steve said hesitantly. Bucky knew the man didn't want to think Natasha had lied to him again. "There's more. On the second page, according to Dr Lyudmila Kudrin, only three women survived carrying the pregnancies to full term. Vostokoff ended up giving birth on June 18, 1995. It says here that she delivered two twin girls," Sharon said wearily, causing Bucky to frown. Bucky read more of the file, feeling his stomach roll in disgust, seeing that the project had been a partial success. They had put the project on hold in order to try and create more of the Super-Soldier Serum. He felt a cold sensation run down his spine, as he thought of Ana then. Maybe she was Alexei and Melina's daughter…possibly.

When the rest of the team had heard back later on what Sharon had discovered regarding the mystery woman, that had sent them on a trip to try and figure out who exactly her family was. Having Sharon reveal that there was actually a twin sister to the girl was an amazing lead. So, one of the Avengers took it into her own hands once she heard that – namely, Wanda. She knew what it was like to lose a twin, and if the young woman that they were looking after really did lose one, there was most likely a hole there that would never be filled. The least she could do is find out if they were right.

After that, they had searched all over the internet, from typical shit to the dark web, trying to see if they could find some sort of league to get them in the right direction. And soon, it wasn't long before they discovered something. The last name Liukin was associated with a Russian cemetery. Instantly, Wanda had assembled the team to fly to where it was, Fury agreeing to it nonetheless considering that it was for a mission. Thankfully the quinjet was quick enough to get them there a little faster than the normal airtime. Even so, arriving had Wanda shaking to see if this was real. They had showed up to the cemetery, stepping in and searching for her name. And it wasn't long before they did find it. Wanda had stood in front of it for a moment, feeling Clint let a hand rest against her shoulder. 'Angelina Aleksandrovna Liukin.' This was it. This was the twin. They were right. They had looked all over to see if there was even a possibility of another Liukin, but funnily, there were none under the names they were looking for. It was mainly strong Russian names that had been attached to it. "I can't believe it," she whispers, looking down at the grave, kneeling down. "There's a lot more to this woman than we realize…she was buried so deep." Clint sighs softly before nodding. "Sometimes that's the case with these things, but…this is good in a way." Wanda looks up to him. "Now that we know for sure that she exists, we have a DNA match-up. She is most likely in the International Data Base if she was dead. We were able to find her originally. If we can somehow get a blood sample from Maria, we can see if she's really Ana or not." Wanda stands, pulling her jacket around her tightly. It was still freezing cold here. "Don't you think that's a bit…sketchy? I mean both Steve and Bucky are there. I don't know how they're going to just get a blood sample off of her." "I'm sure they can figure it out," Clint assures. "We have two of the best super-soldiers in the world. They're not that dumb." "They're also not that smart," Wanda mutters. "True," Clint chuckles before helping her stand. "Come on, let's take some pictures and get this to Fury."

As had been expected, they had gotten the proof to Fury as quickly as possible of the life of Angelina. And as they had expected, Fury had requested to Bucky not that long after to somehow get a blood sample from the mystery woman. To which both Bucky and Steve had sat down for hours, trying to figure out the best way to do so. Because who can just…do that? Eventually, though, they had settled on something that might spurt up one. "How about you just take her out on a date?" Bucky's brow raises in response. "You're serious?" "Yeah, why not? I mean, there's a high probability that you'll most likely get attacked because she has so many bounty's out for her right now. It's the best option you have that's legal in our eyes." He shrugs a bit. "Or you can just attack her mysteriously." "No," Bucky instantly states. His quick response surprised Steve a bit. "I mean, I…I don't want to hurt her more than she's already been hurt. You can tell from a mile away that she has gone through some shit." "Okay…don't worry, we won't do that," Steve reassures him, rubbing his back. "But we still need to get that sample, one way or another…I believe you'll be able to do it" Bucky sighs a bit before glancing up at him. "I haven't been on a date since the 1940′s." Steve snickers. "I think you'll be fine."

After their conversation, it wasn't long before Bucky had asked Maria to come with him on a date, something he had surprisingly been quite nervous to do. Again, it had been so long since he had done something like this, but he knew that it was needed for what they were planning on doing. And she had agreed after a little bit, deciding that they would head out to a smaller restaurant in Madripoor, one that wouldn't attract so much attention. When he had come to pick her up at her apartment, he had waited downstairs for her to come. When she arrived, he felt his mouth drop slightly. You know, it was getting really damn hard to do this mission when the subject was so goddamn gorgeous.

#bucky barnes fanfiction #dark!bucky barnes x reader #dark bucky barnes/oc #dark bucky barnes #steve rogers/natasha romanoff

21 notes · View notes

zims-left-shoe · 4 years

Note

Hello, I had a really cute idea for a request if you dont mind. Since it's been lockdown and stuff could I get a Zim x S/o where they're finally able to see eachother after isolation. Bonus for fluff if that's ok with you?

This request??? Amazing. Absolute perfection. And of course there’s going to be fluff!! Chaotic and feral Zim is great, but I love me some soft Zim.

Oh, and there’s no specific age here. Could be high school, could be adults, I’ll leave that up to the reader.

Blinking furiously, your eyes eventually settled on a squint as your phone cast painfully bright light into your face. The surrounding comfort of darkness was fended off by the harsh screen you continued to stare at. Nothing had changed in the past hour, nothing new was written. You weren't sure what you were hoping for.

A simple 'FINE' within a chat bubble marked the end of your conversation. Normally, you would snicker to yourself about how he flat out refused to write in lowercase, but the anxiety gnawing at your stomach prevented you from doing so.

Sighing, you rolled onto your side, hanging half off the bed in order to plug your phone in for the night. After that was accomplished, you flopped onto your back, staring into the black abyss that was your bedroom ceiling.

Quarantine had been a lot more difficult than you had originally thought. At first it was fun, you could be as much of an introvert as you wanted and could take care of your responsibilities on your own time and schedule, for the most part anyway. But once the weeks turned into months, and those months began to increase exponentially, it became a problem. Going just a bit stir crazy was bad enough, but the worst part was being unable to see Zim.

Again, at first, you didn't think it would be such a bad thing. He tended to get a bit clingy and possessive, so you thought a little me time would do you some good. But as time stretched onward, you realized that you missed the little roach bastard more than you had anticipated.

Of course you couldn't see him, considering not only the high human-to-human spread, but neither of you were quite sure to the extent Irkens would be affected, if it would be much more dangerous for Zim than an average human. As if that factor wasn't bad enough, Zim was already a huge germaphobe, so he rejected the idea of even socially-distanced hangouts with masks and all that.

So, being responsible and considerate, you had agreed to stick to text communication. It was fine at first, and you both talked regularly. Until about a month ago. Your worries began at the occurrence of two solid weeks of radio silence. Assuming the best, you waved it off as maybe he went to space and therefore couldn't get Earth cell reception. Finally, he had contacted you again, but brushed off any questions regarding the period of being off the grid. However, any response he gave you was short and simple, often a yes or no without elaboration, even to prompts where those answers weren't even valid.

This is where the unease began. Your mind began to run rampant with thoughts on the matter. What if he had gotten tired of you? The reasonable person inside of you told you that if that was indeed the case, then his loss, but that didn't mean you had to be happy about it. Just when you would convince yourself everything was fine, you managed to come back with something else, always a variation of the last negative thought. What if he had realized that he liked being alone, that he missed being a lone wolf soldier focused on destroying the world with no one to care about? You could never fully refute that one. After all, was a genetically modified alien soldier truly content being tied down by something such as a relationship?

The only thing that brought you any solace was that he had reached out to you that morning, requesting your presence at his base. Things had gotten better, allowing for the two of you to meet with contact, person to person. Well, person to Irken. Of course, your brain wouldn't let you enjoy that. It just had to spin some tale that would send you into a spiral of dread. Now, as you laid in your bed, sheets bunched in your fists, you were convinced that he wished to break up with you. Well, at least he had the decency to do so in person, if that even was the case.

You wanted nothing more than to be overjoyed that you would finally be able to see him after all this time. You had become quite attached to Zim, more than you ever would like to admit. You should be filled with excitement. However, you felt nothing but a sinking feeling that made your skin crawl.

"Just...please let me have a good night's sleep, would you?" You pleaded with your mind, shifting onto your side to face your wall, letting your eyes shut tight.

(more under the cut)

Unfortunately, you and your brain have two very different ways of defining 'a good night's sleep'. Trudging into the bathroom to get ready for the day ahead, you couldn't hold back the massive yawn. Stretching, about ten different joints popped as you remembered tossing and turning for a majority of the night. The worst part was the two or so hour period of staring blankly at the ceiling, mind racing with ideas of nothing at all.

Staring at your reflection in the mirror revealed you to be looking like hell...and not on wheels. More like hell discarded on the side of the road next to an empty shopping bag. Dark circles rested under your eyes, which weren't only from the previous night. Your sleep schedule had been almost non-existent thanks to quarantine, some nights you wouldn't surrender to slumber until three in the morning, and other days you would succumb to sleep's tantalizing claws at four pm.

Not to mention that you could barely remember the last time you had worn anything but pajamas or sweats. Groaning, you pulled on presentable clothes, as if this was the largest inconvenience you could ever be faced with. Not that Zim would care, but you didn't want to be shown up in the outfit department by a being from beyond who wore the same saturated pink military uniform every day.

You didn't even bother to glance at the time, it wouldn't matter. Either way, Zim would most likely chide you for being late, even if you were an hour early. You weren't sure if the construct of time even existed in the reality that was Zim's mind. Now that you thought about it, you couldn't say for certain if you had even set a specific time arrangement. All you had agreed upon was to be there some time in the morning.

It didn't matter regardless, he would be there whenever you decided to show up. He hadn't left his base once for the duration of quarantine. Zim had patience when it came to being cooped up for long periods of time, you would give him that much. It was about the only time he had patience, but it counted nonetheless.

That negative feeling wouldn't cease tugging at you as you meandered your way to Zim's base, quite literally dragging your feet down the sidewalk. Occasionally, you would come across a stray stone or pinecone, and you'd strike out with a half-hearted kick, watching it skitter across the pavement.

The entire walk was forgettable, and you had made the trek enough times for your brain to transition into autopilot until you made it to the fence line. The first few times you went to his place were unsettling. Now, you were completely unfazed as the security gnomes eyed you when you padded up the sidewalk, approaching the door. Their beady laser eyes tracked your every breath, but by this point you were unbothered. Besides, you were fairly sure that Zim had put you on the white list, so they shouldn't shoot at you unless it was a direct order.

You pressed the doorbell, folding your hands neatly in front of you as you waited for Zim to answer, scrambling to get a heartfelt speech together in your head. Whatever string of words you had managed to stitch together was thrown out the window when the door swung open, revealing a very animated GIR decked out in his doggy disguise. He frantically waved a black 'paw' to you, a grin splitting his face.

"Hi, Sparky!!" He hollered in your face, greeting you with a name that wasn't yours, per usual. Before you could even open your mouth to respond, he began talking again, in very much an outside voice. A chip right off the old Irken block. "Didja bring the pizza?!" The little robot inspected your arms curiously, stepping around you to make sure you weren't hiding the greasy pie behind your back.

"I, uh, wasn't aware I was supposed to be bringing pizza." You knew this was just an instance of GIR being GIR, but you went along with it anyway. He couldn't help himself, it was just the way he was wired. Or, maybe it was the fact that his brains consisted of useless pocket junk. It didn't really matter. GIR moved back to stand obediently in the doorway, you peering around the frame to see if Zim was anywhere to be found. He wasn't, which only made the nerves worse. Despite your worry, you kept your voice even and neutral. "May I come in?"

"Mhm!" He hummed, jumping aside to let you in. You closed the door behind you, standing around awkwardly for a moment before turning back to GIR, who was already shimmying out of his doggy suit.

"Do you know where Zim is?" Something seemed to click with GIR, however, it was not something that would answer your question. The poor robot burst into tears, which also wasn't out of the ordinary, falling face first into the floor and pounding his metal claw on the tile.

"That boy missed you so much!! He so sad, he even cried!! He loves youuu...!" He wailed, loud enough to draw Minimoose into the room who offered a soft and sad 'Nyah', seemingly agreeing with the statement. You couldn't confirm, since only Zim and GIR were fluent in the language you lovingly called 'Moosinese'. Tears continued to stream down the robot's metal face as he screamed, Minimoose resting a comforting purple nub on his back.

"Is that true?" Your response was calm, having dealt with GIR's outbursts many a time. You couldn't attest to the accuracy of his words, considering correct information was almost similar to a Russian roulette wheel when it came to GIR.

And as if nothing had ever happened, the robot immediately perked up, popping up to his feet with a smile, tongue lolling out the side of his mouth. "Yep!! Master's been down in the base the whole time!! Just sittin' there all shmoopy-like!" A giggle followed, pushing his previous bout of sadness into the past.

"Nyah!" Minimoose showed you a bucktooth grin as he looked to you purposefully.

"Really? Fascinating." Again, you couldn't speak Moosinese, but still, you nodded. The purple moose appeared to be satisfied with your response, floating off to who knows where.

"You wanna come play with the piggy with me?!" GIR bounced up and down, eager to drag you off to roll around on the floor and have a tea party with whatever pig he had brought home this week.

"Maybe some other time, GIR." You weren't opposed to spending time with the little robot, but he wasn't exactly who you were here to see. He didn't seem offended, all he did was shrug his metal shoulders.

"Okie dokie!" He brought his claw up to his forehead in a salute, turning away from you and making a mad dash to the kitchen. You heard a noisy metallic clang echo from the kitchen, and you didn't need to witness the event to visualize GIR smacking face-first into the cabinet.

"Careful, GIR! My milk squid experiment is in there!" A familiar voice rang out from the kitchen, and two immediate questions sprung to mind. The first was why in the name of anything would you keep milk in the cabinet (even if it related to a squid)? The second being just what in the hell had he been doing all this time?

The whiny complaints had quieted to low grumbles as just the alien you wanted to see paced into the living room, eyes cast downwards, antennae drooping. The words that had been forming in your throat were choked into barely a squeak when you got a closer look at him. Zim still didn't seem to notice you, red bug eyes trained on the tile, hands clasped behind his back. That wasn't the surprising bit. A jacket you thought you had lost some time ago was thrown on over his invader uniform. You couldn't remember if maybe you had left it there or maybe Zim had taken without your knowledge, but either way, he was swimming in it. The sleeves were rolled up to meet his wrists, gloved hands peeking out from the fabric. Most of the jacket itself was well past his thighs, stopping just above the knee. It had been just a bit big on you, so of course it would be massive on him. You felt any unease you were feeling immediately leave at the sight. Clearly, he hadn't been enjoying the separation as much as you thought.

"I was wondering where that coat went." A chuckle slipped past your lips. Finally, Zim seemed to notice you, head snapping in your direction, antennae perking up to attention.

"Eh?" He didn't quite register your phrase, almost as if he had been wearing your coat for so long that he had forgotten it wasn't a part of his usual attire. "Y/n, I don't-" Zim looked down at himself, finally realizing why you were staring at him like that. He wriggled out of the jacket faster than you could gush about how adorable it was, throwing it forcefully behind the couch. "YOU CAN'T PROVE ANYTHING!!" He shrieked, pointing a clawed finger at you, antennae flattening against his head in curt embarrassment.

"So, you like my stuff, huh?" You asked cheekily, relishing in his refusal to look at you as he unknowingly clutched the hem of his invader uniform, scuffling his boots on the tile. You couldn't help but snicker. It wasn't often Zim would let himself be sheepish, since he normally knew nothing of shame.

"Nonsense!" He waved a hand dismissively, eyes still refusing to meet yours, although without his contacts, it was a bit hard to tell where exactly he was looking if his head wasn't turned. Crossing his arms tight to his chest, he wracked his brain for possible excuses. "I was just, er, working on repairs and didn't want to get my clothes dirty! Yes! I found this filthy piece of clothing and figured it would suffice." You rolled your eyes, knowing full well he would never admit to the true motivations behind his actions.

Lucky for you, someone else chimed in to voice your exact thoughts. "That's a lie." The computer spoke up from nowhere in particular, monotone voice bringing a growl to rise from Zim's throat.

"YOU'RE LYING!! There is no evidence of this!" The Irken jabbed a claw up towards the direction of the many cables and wires strung across the ceiling. This wouldn't be the first time you've witnessed him get into a spat with his computer. They could be quite entertaining to watch, actually.

"Proof." The computer said in a matter-of-fact tone, the gargantuan TV screen buzzing to life, static clearing to reveal a recording of internal base camera feed. The date was in Irken, but you were wise enough to surmise that it was from some time over the quarantine.

The screen displays Zim begrudgingly wandering over to the voot cruiser in the hangar. In the video feed, he looks decently depressed, antennae slack and hanging limp, posture slouched. He climbed into the ship, looking for something. Whatever it was, his search came to an unresolved end as he lifted your jacket from the seat. Apparently, you had left it in there the last time he had taken you for a flight. His eyes darted around to make sure he wasn't being watched, slipping on the coat and hugging his arms to his chest. The sleeves extended well past his hands. He brought them to his face, sniffing them. A delighted smile ghosted his mouth as he rubbed the sleeves against his face.

"Why would you record that?!" His voice cracked at the end, and you were trying your best to hold in a laugh as the TV faded back to static for a split second before opening on another instance.

This time the video depicted GIR and Zim sprawled out on the couch, watching something on the TV. Zim was wrapped in your coat as if it were a blanket, seeming to be content enough with it. GIR had reached out a claw for the article of clothing, wishing to share. Zim hissed, yanking the coat away from his grip, swiping a clawed hand out like a cat. Clearly, he wanted it all to himself.

This time you couldn’t stop yourself from laughing. You tried to apologize, especially since the Irken standing next to you looked absolutely horrified. You were sure he felt his dignity had just faded away right along with the video feed.

"Oh, and my personal favorite." The computer added helpfully as yet another recording presented itself on the TV. This one was a bit tougher to make out.

Zim was down in the depths of the base, and much was dark, the only light being cast from a large monitor just off screen. You were able to see Zim, sitting on the floor, sporting your jacket. He stared longingly at the sleeves that covered his hands. After a moment he shoved his face into his arms and knees as tears slipped down his face. You could only make out the tears due to the light being thrown from the monitor, making them glisten like jewels. Separation appeared to be much harder on him than you had thought. Maybe that was why he had been ignoring you, although it seemed counterproductive. It was possible that texting you made him miss you more.

Zim was not amused in the slightest by this particular clip. He stamped his foot on the tile, making frenzied cutting motions with his arms.

"COMPUTER!!!" His voice was high in volume, but a nervous chuckle laced each syllable. "I think that is quite enough!"

The computer groaned, cutting the feed back to static, eventually switching the TV off completely. "I was just trying to be accurate."

"You only seem to care about accuracy when it is of no benefit to Zim!!" You could only imagine what was going through Zim's head in the moment, because from the outside, he was a ball of red hot rage. However, the computer was having none of his antics, going dormant once more.

"Zim? You're up here." You raised a hand above your head to indicate his anger level. "I need you to be down here." You lowered your hand to your abdomen, knowing that was a complete stretch to ask for. Especially since he was so upset he was stringing together curses in Irken. He would only speak in his native tongue around you when he was incredibly furious. His teeth were gritted tightly, foot tapping audibly on the tile.

"That damn computer." His growl was closer to that of a feral animal, and although he was calm enough to speak in English, he still required some de-escalation.

"Relax, we'll just pretend it never happened."

"Good. Forget about those recordings." His eyes were narrowed, but he was relenting his irritation.

"What recordings?" You shrugged, a smile playing at the corners of your mouth. Zim seemed appeased, and in a split second, all of his anger was gone and replaced by something else entirely. All the fight seemed to leave his body as he looked to you, red eyes softening completely when they caught your own. He seemed relieved to see you, as if being away was one of the hardest things he had been through in years.

Wordlessly, he strode over to you, wrapping his arms around you and burying his face into your chest. Soft Zim was a rare occurrence, but these moments were something you absolutely treasured. It almost made the months of isolation worth it.

You returned the action, and the second you put your arms around him, every muscle in his body relaxed. It was a bit strange, really. To have a hardened alien soldier all but melt in your arms. He wrapped his legs around you as well, clinging to you like a koala. It wasn't hard to maintain balance since he really wasn't all that heavy.

"Couch." He mumbled, his chin resting on your shoulder as his arms were draped around your neck, your own arms supporting him under his legs. A chuckle fell from your lips at his behavior. At first it seemed like he had no energy, but in reality, it was closer to him being soothed by your presence. You were about the only living creature, scratch that, the only thing in the entire universe that could ease him like this; even he wasn't sure why you had this effect on him.

"Sure thing." You walked him over to the couch, using one arm to snag your jacket off the floor before sinking down into the cushions. There was a bit of a strange smell emanating from where you sat, most likely due to GIR spilling countless snacks, messes that weren't completely cleaned up. It wasn't super potent, and in that particular moment, it wasn't one of your concerns.

As you sat on the couch, Zim remained cuddled into you. A snicker slipped out as you tossed your coat over him as if it were a blanket. At first you assumed he would protest, proclaiming that he wasn't cold, nor a weak little smeet who needs to be cared for. So when he removed his arms from you, you were bracing yourself for a lecture and/or rant. However, all he did was tuck the jacket around him better, silently snaking his arms back around you afterward.

"You really did miss me, huh?" It was a redundant question, since without even saying, you both were aware of the answer. Still, you wished to hear him say it. It would put you in good spirits.

"Your absence was...not pleasant." His voice was uncharacteristically hushed, muffled by your clothes. His words were chosen delicately, as they always were when he didn't want to admit to something that he knew to be true.

"So you missed me." The smile that was spread on your face shone through your voice.

"If that is what you would like to think." Zim made an attempt at being snarky, but any mockery in his words was half-hearted at best. Breathing a sigh, you let your head fall back against the back of the couch. You knew full well that was the best you could hope to glean from him, even in his current subdued state.

"For the record, I missed you too."

"As you should. Zim is very great." Looking down, you were met with a sight that melted your heart. The coat still wrapped around him, arms still clinging to you as if you would walk out any minute. Zim's eyes were closed as he laid his head in your lap, quiet purrs rising from his throat as your fingers absentmindedly played with his antennae. You almost thought he would fall asleep.

"I know. You're the coolest Irken I know." You may have only known one, but still. Zim was pretty amazing in your book, despite being a self-absorbed idiot at times. A pleasant silence settled over the room for a moment as you continued to twirl his antennae between your fingers.

His eyes still closed, Zim spoke again, mumbling, "Zim's next plan is to eradicate these abhorrent human pandemics." The words slurred together a bit, and although you knew Irkens to not sleep due to lack of biological necessity, whenever he was completely relaxed, he tended to get drowsy.

"Good luck with that. I support your efforts one hundred percent." Despite the first statement harboring a twinge of sarcasm, the second was completely genuine.

"Does Zim detect a hint of ridicule?" His words may have been a challenge, but not a single eye opened even a crack, not a single muscle in his body so much as twitching.

"All I'm saying is I haven't seen much progress on your original plan of eradicating the humans, and it's been how many years?"

"Quiet or I'll steal another one of your inferior human zip-cloth thingies." He may not have technically stolen the first one, but you had to make a mental note to keep track of your jackets and hoodies. Or at the very least, make sure to keep the ones you wore often out of reach. You supposed in the end it didn't really matter. You would know where to find them if they did happen to go missing. And besides, he did look rather cute in them.

#invader zim #invader zim fanfiction #invader zim x reader #zim x reader #invader zim fic #invader zim one shot #invader zim oneshot #one shot #oneshot #fanfic #fanfiction #request

242 notes · View notes

12yeahiminluvwu · 4 years

Text

Captain

pairing - JJ Maybank x Athlete!Reader

summary- JJ Maybank gets his shit rocked by the captain of the school volleyball team

word count- 2,365 (i got so carried away, oh my goodness)

warning(s)- swearing, uhh JJ gets hurt but he’s fine, volleyball lingo (if you don’t understand, i’m happy to translate lol) this wasn’t proof read so, have fun if theres any typos.

---------

“It’s volleyball week, class. Experienced played on the left court, beginning players of the right court. Over on the left, we’re playing normal sets to twenty-five, no serve cap. On the right, normal set to twenty-five, serve cap is 3. Have fun!” Mr. Perkins said and let everyone lose. Volleyball week was your favorite because you got to do something you actually liked during gym class.

You and a few of the other varsity girls made your way to the court and made a quick game plan with the other three players you’d gotten on your team. From your middle position, you see JJ Maybank from across the net. You had no idea that he even knew what volleyball was, seeing as the only thing he ever did was surf and smoke weed.

“You ready to get your shit rocked, Maybank?” You smirked, waiting for the serve. His eyes scanned up and down your body before meeting your eyes with an equal smirk.

“Bring it on captain!” JJ didn’t know much about volleyball, but he was determined to stay on the court for as long as he could before Perkins booted him over to the other court. He wanted to be close to you, try to impress you. This was the best way he knew how to do that right now.

The ball was served to the setters corner, a pass, set, and a hit made. Your teammate, who was a libero on your actual team, made a dig to your setter and you released to make your approach calling a 1, which is a quick/low set right above the tape, and realized that JJ stood flat footed- not even attempting to block you. The boy watched as the ball connected with your hand and ducked, thinking that it was headed straight for his face.

The ball dropped right on the 10-foot line and your team cheered for you, as you had won the first point. JJ watched in a daze as you smiled and laughing, taking the compliments your team was showering you in.

“JJ! Block her next time!” Someone said from behind him and he nodded aimlessly, doing his best to focus and try to play. The set went back and forth a few times before you went back to serve. You had begun to catch on to the fact that JJ had absolutely no idea what he was doing, so you intentionally served him, knowing it would get you a point.

The ball spun in your hand once, and you placed a hand on top lightly before drawing your arm back and tossing the ball,swinging through right at JJ. The ball coasted perfectly above the net, floating right to him, but it ended up hitting him in the face.

“Oh shit!” You gasped, running across the floor to where he now laid on the floor.

“You ok Maybank?” JJ laid there quietly, trying to grasp on to what just happened. Of course, he's the one that gets clocked by a serve. And of course it was y/n’s. Just his freaking luck. Opening his throbbing eye, he saw you staring down at him, close enough he could feel your breath fanning across his face.

“JJ, come on, I didn’t hit you that hard!” You said, placing a gentle hand on his cheek. You felt him lean into your touch as his eyes fluttered.

“Y/n, I’m gonna have you walk him to the nurse, ok? I wanna make sure he doesn’t have a concussion.” Perkins said and you nodded, latching onto his hand to help him stand up. He was a little unstable so you wrapped his arm around your shoulder, while yours held securely onto his waist.

“You know, when you asked me if I was ready to get my shit rocked, I didn’t know you meant literally!” He groaned. A giggled escaped your lips and you looked at him, almost like you were seeing him for the first time. His face looked different up close, he looked a little less tough. He looked softer.

“”Well, maybe you shouldn’t have let your guard down,” You shrugged, smirked in his direction.

“Oh, so that’s how it is, ok.” He scoffed and you laughed again, tightening your grip on him. A beat of silence passed between the two of you before the boy spoke again.

“Can I be honest with you?” He asked and you nodded, perking your ars at what he was going to say. You were very aware of how close you were to him, as his body heat was beginning to make you sweat. You passed by a few people who were in the hallway, avoiding going back to class.

“I have no idea how to play volleyball…” He finally admitted and you stopped in your tracks, feeling laughter bubble in your chest.

“Ya think I didn’t notice that?” You laughed out, and the redness on his cheeks darkened.

“Why were you on that court if you don’t know how to play? There's nothing wrong with being on the beginners court!” He shifted, taking his arm off of your shoulder and leaning against the wall. Suddenly, he was more interested in the floor and playing with the hem of his shirt than he was looking at you and you felt the weight shift between your feet, your eyebrows raising at him.

“Because… I wanted to impress you…” He trailed off. Your cheeks began to heat up at his confession. Truthfully, you didn’t think JJ, or anyone, thought about you that way. You’d never really been a main character like JJ, or any of his friends.

“Why?” You asked, grabbing him from off the wall so you could continue your journey to the nurse’s office. This time, he held onto you a little tighter than he had before, he realized you did the same.

“Because you’re freaking y/n y/l/n! You’re the captain of the volleyball team, voted most likely to play in the Olympics before you turn 25! You’re, like, awesome! And, I didn’t know how else to get your attention. So here I am, with a possible concussion.”

“I’m not worth getting a concussion over JJ, why didn’t you just ask me out ;like any normal person would?” Your boldness surprised you, but you figured that it couldn’t really hurt at this point.

“Cause, John B said that would be lame…” He muttered.

“Well, I guess you’ve learned to not always listen to John B,” He nodded and looked over at you.

“How about we go out tonight then? Catch the sunset, have a picnic?” He asked, causing your smile to grow wider.

“As lovely as that sounds, I have a game tonight… but I’d like it if you were there.” He nodded, looking around before looking back at you.

“What’s your jersey number?” He asked. You had come upon the door to the office and you slowly opened it before answering him.

“13.” You said and sent him in, walking in after him.

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

JV had just finished, meaning you and the girls were out on the court warming up and getting ready for your game. Galway Girl by Ed Sheeran blared throughout the gym, hyping the team up.

The whistle blew and you looked over to the ref, holding up a C. That’s your cue.

You won serve and thanked the ref before departing back to your team, who had gathered around the bench, waiting for coach to give the line up. You’re starting, obviously, so you gave your speech and made your way onto the court, quickly scanning the crowds to see if JJ was there.

You didn’t see him right away, but he was there with his friends, wearing your number painted on an old t-shirt he didn’t wear often enough to care about, with your name above it.

---

It was down to the wire now, 11-13 in the fifth set. JJ had no clue what was going on but he knew that every time you hit the ball and got a point, he screamed the loudest of everyone in the gym. You still hadn’t seen him as you were focused on the game, the cheers just sounding like white noise filling the void.

“Bro, you’re over here yelling like she’s already your girlfriend! Step it up!” John B said and that kicked him into gear, making the rest of the pogues laugh at his willingness to act like an idiot. You went back to serve and his mind raced back to his trip to the nurses office earlier in the day. He silently hoped you would do the same to one of the girls on the other team. He’d learned that when you hit someone in the face on a kill, it's called a six pack. He liked that name, for obvious reasons.

JJ silently hoped for you to six pack someone all night concluding that it would be really sexy.

“Come on y/n, ace these bitches!” He yelled and that caught your attention. You looked over and saw him, standing amongst the crowd with a proud smile plastered on his face. You took another deep breath, after sending him a quick smile, and refocused yourself on the task at hand. You needed to keep the serve if you wanted to get to the end of this game without a fight.

You served the ball exactly how you had earlier in gym class, and watched as it floated over the tape, dropping right in front of the left back passer. Your team cheered you on as you came into the middle of the court. The ball was passed back to you, and you went back to do your routine all over again, choosing the same person to serve to, knowing it would psych them out.

The passed the ball high and to the middle, making it easy for the setter to get there and make a play. Sucks for them though, cause your offense read it, and easily went up for the block, the ball going straight down to the ground.

13-13. Two more and you win. You breath a little deeper now, looking over to your coach who is holding on a 5, indicating where you needed to serve. Deep right back corner. JJ watched as the ball spun in your hand, watched as it floated over the net, and watched as the players made their moves. The last hit was made, coming over the net quickly. Left back took the pass and you called ‘Pipe”, a back row middle hit.

The ball landed in the net, ending your streak. The score was 14-13 now, and in a set that only went to 15, it meant you had to bust your ass to get the ball back. Typically, a libero or defensive specialist would rotate in for you right now, but you had been working on your back row skills so coach opted to keep you in. The ball was served to your right, the setters corner. The pass was made, a set to the outside, and a kill, bringing you back to 14-14. You had to win by two.

The play was a blur, all you knew was you won that point, and before you knew it, it was game point again.

The feeling that washed over you when the crowd erupted in cheers as you won the game was one you would never get used to. Euphoria, a high that would never get old. One you couldn’t build a tolerance to.

The team rushed onto the court, dogpiling in the middle as the crowd started to shuffle out. When you made it out there was still a group of people standing around in the gym, waiting to talk to different payers.

A small crowd of four people stuck out to you, one in particular catching your eye. You ran over to him and he smiled, catching you in his arms and spinning you around as you laughed into his shoulder.

“You came!” He laughed at our surprise and nodded.

“Did you really think I’d miss it?” He asked and you shrugged, still wrapped up in his arms.

“I didn’t see you, so I wasn’t sure.”

John B, Pope, and Kie all looked at the two of you in amazement. They had never seen JJ like this with anyone before. The group watched JJ swoon over you and hype you up about winning all the way out to your car.

“Hey JJ, we’re gonna head out. You comin’?” Pope asked him.

“I could give you a ride if you want?” You offered and he looked back between you all, opting to spend as much time with you as he could. The car ride was filled with laughter about how amazed JJ was that you could jump as high as you did and hit the ball as hard as you were capable of. It was funny to see him so enamoured by something that seemed so mundane to you at this point.

Pulling up to the chateau, you both got out and stood at the front of the car, neither of you wanting to part ways.

“So, I’ll pick you up tomorrow at 8?” He asked and you nodded. He began walking into the house, but stopped when you called out to him.

“You’re not even gonna kiss me goodnight?” He turned around to see the smirk on your face and dropped everything to run back to you, scooping you up in his arms and attaching his lips to yours in a deep kiss.

You felt a fire ignite across your whole body as you shared this moment with him. You shared a kiss filled with passion, desire, and emotions you couldn’t yet name.

“Night, Captain…” He whispered in your ear, leaving you with nothing but goosebumps and shivers down your spine.

---

hehe, this was really fun to write.

205 notes · View notes

starryseung · 4 years

Text

lee minho + smut

☾

request; Could ye do Minho, Ferris wheel, blowjob and fingering,☺️ word count; 1.5k words warnings; blowjob, fingering

High Up

“Hey Min, look! Can we please go on the wheel?~” you tug at Minho’s arm, making him look up from his food to your dazed heart eyes on the massive Ferris Wheel in the center of the summer fair in your town.

You always loved rides like these, and this one in particular was your favorite. You had a soft spot for the alluring view of the night sky, how romantic and warm it felt to be up there with no one other than your significant other.

But as for Minho, just the thought of actually being up there made the color drain from his face. He despised such rides, heights in general. And now looking at you with the cute expression adorning your face as you beg to go up on the ride, he believes he’s going to either let you go on the ride alone, or, not go up there altogether.

Nevertheless, he’s not a bad person, and so he decides to push away the edgy feeling in his entire being, focusing on the delicious cheese corn dog in his hands as he gives you a tight nod. You squeal in happiness, finishing up your fries before throwing away the paper plate, walking towards the ride controller with a slightly shivering Minho.

“Two tickets for two rounds please,” you smile, hands clasped around Minho’s. It was more like his hand clasped around yours, as he occasionally glanced up at how high the wheel would go. You were too busy containing your excitement to notice; just the fact that you were going up on your favorite ride in the world making adrenaline rush through your blood.

“How long are we gonna have to stay in there?” Minho queries, soft worried eyes looking at the dangling carriages high up.

“One rotation is around twenty minutes?...” you notice how his eyebrows furrowed together in anxiety of hanging up in the air for twenty whole minutes.

“...Or maybe two hours if the ride gets stuck, I’ve heard so many cases about things like that...” you trail off, chuckling as you leave the rest to his imagination. He wants to grab any opportunity to just leave, but the non-refundable money that already left his pocket was enough for him to suffer for twenty minutes... or two hours.

“Please keep your belongings down there on the shelves. The ride will start shortly.” a young volunteer smiles and motions the first few people in the line towards a corner. You walk there and place your bag and jacket on the shelf, Minho following your actions.

You walk up to a cabin and feel Minho stiffen behind you, almost tripping at his sudden stop. He takes baby steps to the gate, before you hurriedly pull him in. The volunteer chuckles and closes the door shut, before yelling out to start the wheel.

Minho has his eyes shut, lips mumbling small incoherencies and hands holding yours tightly. You laugh and peck his cheek, warm on his cold skin. He lets out a shaky sigh, scooting closer to you. Around five minutes into the ride, you feel Minho relax next to you, his frame almost sticking to you.

“You doing good there?” you ask, stifling a laughter as he cocks an eyebrow at you, almost immediately closing his eyes after and lying his head on your shoulder.

“Yeah, I guess. I feel like I’m flying but also suffocating,” he mutters, pouting and refusing to look at the beautiful city lights down the window with you. You peck his lips, hugging him close and safe before signing at him to look out the window.

“Look straight ahead, not down. Look at the streetlights there!” you point at a distance, and he pokes open an eye to look at whatever you were pointing at.

“Woah, that’s nice” he compliments meaninglessly, shutting his eyes back and moving back to the previous position. You laugh, morphing into a whine at his stubborn self. You had to distract him if you wanted him to stop clinging on to you like this (not that you hated it) for the next forty minutes.

“Hey, look up.” you tug his chin up to make him face you. At this point you were almost at the top.

He faces you, and before he gets the chance to dig back into your shoulder, you kiss him. He hesitates for a moment, the fear still lingering at the back of his head; but when you graze your tongue against his bottom lip, he feels himself getting relaxed, bold. His hand drops down to your waist, grip tensing as you kiss him deeper.

You feel your plan working as he pulls you up to his lap, holding you flush against him. You knew he was slowly losing his resolve by the way he grew harder under your thigh. You shuffle down between his legs, and he gets the signal before spreading them out, licking his lips as he looks down at you.

Palming at the tent growing in his pants, you smirk as he whines under you, urging you to go faster. You unzip his jeans, pulling them low enough to tug down his boxers and run your fingers up his erection, his head tossed backwards.

You slowly apply pressure to his tip, drawing out a long curse from him. He grips the seat tightly as your movements spark electricity throughout his body. Bringing your hand up and down his length, you increase your pace gradually, pumping his swollen length.

Heating things up, you lick his cock from base up and he shudders slightly at the sensation. Focusing on the protruding vein across his length, you lick across it, sucking spots on him. You lick his tip a couple times, kissing it softly before taking his length in your mouth.

You lie your tongue flat across his length, and he all but moans aloud. You bob your head on his length, sucking in your cheeks to create further pressure against his red cock in your mouth. His whines and moans start getting longer and louder, making heat pool between your legs. He was being all vocal as he neared his orgasm, and you were loving it.

"Fuck, I'm so close," he sighs, thrusting up in your mouth. You gag around him, the feeling making him lose his resolve completely as hot spurts shoot down your throat and you swallow his cum instantly, feeling him relax under you.

"Seems like you've got a problem too," Minho calls out, looking down at how your hand was subconsciously pressed against your heat. Minho quickly swats your hand away, holding you up by your arms. You instinctively look out behind Minho, noting how you were almost about to finish the first rotation.

He sits you down next to where he was previously seated, fixing his clothes before kneeling down in front of you.

"Don't touch what's mine, hmm?" he orders innocently, fingers contradicting his speech. He pulled down your shorts swiftly, toying with your panties. You feel him push your panties aside, smirking at your hole clenching around nothing; before collecting your leaking arousal with his fingers and pushing them inside your tight hole immediately.

Your back arches away from the seat as two fingers thrust into your hole, rubbing against your walls swiftly. He scissors and rubs the pads of his fingers against your sweet spot, thumb rubbing at your clit. You were already worked up, and he had barely started.

He licks his lips and looks up at you, adding a third finger to look at your scrunched face and knit eyebrows. You clenched around his fingers with each thrust, and he only grunts into response. He latches his soft, warm lips against your clit, sucking at the nerves as his fingers continue working at your cunt.

Withdrawing his fingers, Minho brings his head up before diving lower, plunging his tongue deep into your heat. You moan aloud as his muscle thrusts in and out of you, pressing against your clit occasionally. It overwhelmed you, as if he was a needle poking your bubble of comfort.

The knot tightens in you, and just when he brings back his fingers to your hole, you feel your orgasm crashing onto you, and Minho laps it up, leaving nothing wasted. The overstimulation has you cringing and moving away from the buzz pain spreading from your chest, and Minho moves away to let you fix your clothes.

He gulps down chugs of water before handing you the bottle, pushing his hair back. You don't know why, but it's too late to stop the laugh bubbling up when Minho yelps suddenly in the quiet atmosphere.

"When is this shit going to end?!" he cries, moving towards the center of the cabin and holding up his palms over his eyes. He was being dramatic now, considering that the ride was almost over.

His voice drowns under the beep of the intercom, followed by someone speaking on the line.

"Thank you for enjoying the ride with us! Hope you had a memorable experience with us!", the voice ends with a beep once again, and the door opens up for you to get down.

"Yeah right, so memorable," Minho scoffs, winking at you.

—

a/n; YEHET i’m done with my requests >:D thank you guys so much for all the love and support :’)

#kpop scenarios #kpop imagines #skzsmutnet #kpop smut #stray kids smut #stray kids #stray kids lee know #stray kids minho #stray kids minho smut #stray kids lee know smut #minho smut #lee minho smut #skz smut #smut #skz lee know smut #skz lee minho smut #mia.moon

272 notes · View notes

owlheartt · 3 years

Text

Star Sanses Extended, Chapter 2: Underfell

Dream continues training Papyrus until Ink prompts them to stop for lunch. And then do not end up at the timeline Dream and Papyrus wanted to. (link to Chapter 1 on AO3)

Dream continued coaching Papyrus for the next few hours, with Ink interrupting at random moments. Sometimes he gave good advice, like stick with the group no matter what lure-tactics are used. But most of the time, Ink just prattled on about random things. Dream, on the other hand, was focused. He had a set mind and layed out goals and lists. He showed Papyrus how his magic worked and even prompted Ink to give an example. Ink just drew a tree. Admittedly, Ink’s tree came to life, and it was identical to a real one (the neon coloring being an exception).

Dream’s magic was the embodiment of joy, and it enchanted Papyrus.

“IT’S SO BRIGHT!” Papyrus exclaimed. He couldn’t help gushing over the glowing gold. The magic itself made Papyrus happy, and he wanted to be near it forever.

“Yea. My… Nightmare hates it.” Dream said. He looked a little distant.

“NIGHTMARE IS THE LEADER OF THE BAD SANSES, CORRECT?” Papyrus had been working very hard on memorizing what Dream had been explaining, and it felt good to be able to connect the dots like that.

“Yes! He’s my opposite, and his magic embodies negativity.” Dream said. Papyrus didn’t like how sad the yellow skeleton looked. Despite the joy Dream represented, he hardly ever looked happy himself. At least, he hadn’t in the few hours Papyrus had known him. Maybe today was just long. It must be stressful to switch out one of his team mates. Maybe he was worried that Papyrus would trip them up.

“HAVE NO FEAR! I CAN HANDLE IT. ESPECIALLY WITH THE JOY YOU BRING!” Papyrus placed his hands on his hips, and stood boldly. It was his hero pose that he practiced every morning in the mirror. Sans didn’t know that of course, and just thought that Papyrus came that great.

“I-” Dream cut himself off and squinted a little at Papyrus. “Thanks. This feels a lot like when I met Blue for the first time.” Dream smiled (genuinely, this time), and Papyrus got a taste of how much Dream loved his friends. It felt a lot like how much he loved Sans and Undyne. Maybe… maybe someday Dream would love him the same way.

“YOU’RE WELCOME! NOW, YOU WERE SAYING ABOUT YOUR MAGIC?” Papyrus said.

“Oh, right! I can also spread-” Dream began.

“Hiiiiiss HAPPY BUBBLE!!!” Ink exclaimed, slamming into Dream and wrapping an arm around him. Dream yelped as he was squashed against his considerably smaller friend.

“HAPPY BUBBLE?” Papyrus loved listening to all of Dream’s carefully worded explanations. None of it was ever condescending or confusing, and as the day had gone on it became easier and easier to ask questions.

“I have an aura I can spread.” Dream sat down, forcing the still-attached Ink to plop down with him. Papyrus followed, hitting the soft ground. The grass bent beneath him, and it felt itchy even through his clothes. “It makes the beings near me feel better. Ink calls it my Happy Bubble. The larger the bubble, the more effort it takes to upkeep. Mine tend to extend 7 feet, tops. It makes me nervous to use more magic than that.”

“AH, I SEE. CAN NIGHTMARE DO THE SAME?” Papyrus asked. Dream nodded.

“He doesn’t do it often though, it doesn’t benefit him. We both draw magic from nearby emotions, and artificially made ones don’t do anything for us.”

“Hey, I’m hungry!” Ink said, drawing away from Dream.

“Not now, Ink. Paper and I are busy.” Dream said, sighing.

“No like, it’s past noon. We haven’t had lunch.” Ink said, frowning. He switched to a playful grin and threw his hand over his head dramatically before adding, “We’re going to waste away!!”

“I INVITE YOU ALL TO MY HOUSE. I’M SURE THERE’S SOMETHING IN THE FRIDGE WE COULD HAVE!!” Papyrus said, standing right back up. He didn’t like sitting for long. Or, sitting at all, really. Felt… lazy. “OR IF WE NEED TO STAY HERE..?”

“No, not at all! We can keep tabs on the Multiverse from wherever. Ink, if you wouldn’t mind,” Dream turned toward Ink who had already splashed, well, ink all over the ground. Oddly enough, it looked more like a slab. It didn’t have single pieces of grass sticking up and out of it, and the surface was flat. Ink snached Papyrus and Dream’s hands with a little more urgency than Papyrus thought necessary. Of course, with how unpredictable Ink was, there was the chance it was just him being him.

Traveling through one of Ink’s shortcuts was different from Dream’s. The yellow magic was more like a snap, quick and efficient. Ink’s was… more leisurely. Just by a little bit, but it was still noticeable. Rather than the distinct tug on his SOUL, when he transitioned from the orange place to the new timeline it felt more like he had slid down a slide. He was pulled, but in a rather inviting way.

Looking up and around, Papyrus noticed that they were standing in Hotland, not far from Alphys’s lab. Except it felt as off-putting as when he had met Blueberry for the first time. It was Hotland… but not quite. Papyrus decided to give it the benefit of the doubt though, especially as it looked roughly the same as his Hotland, and he didn’t want to be rude.

“...AH, MY HOME IS THIS WAY.” Papyrus said, and began to march off toward Waterfell.

“Your home? Why does that matter?” Ink said. Papyrus turned around to see him tilting his head.

“Ink, don’t tell me you took us to the wrong timeline.” Dream said. From his expression, Papyrus could guess that this had happened before.

“Wrong timeline? For what?” The most frustrating part about this (in Papyrus’s fantastic opinion), was that it was impossible to tell if Ink was genuinely asking.

“FOR LUNCH. I WAS BRINGING YOU ALL TO MY HOUSE.” Papyrus said, as calmly as he could muster. Ink thought a bit before responding.

“Oh cool! Lunch sounds good. If we could take care of Error first though that’d be great.” Ink said it nonchalantly, but Dream’s eye sockets went wide open.

“...Error?” Dream said.

“Yea why?”

“WHO’S ERROR?” Papyrus didn’t like being kept in the dark.

“Error... is another destroyer of timelines.” Dream said slowly, and Papyrus could see how much effort he was putting into keeping a level tone. “He’s Ink’s nemesis, you could say. He doesn’t really work with the Bad Sanses, but he poses roughly the same threat.” Between the gritted teeth and the vibrating eye lights Papyrus got the general sense that Dream was Not Ok. So he took the one obvious solution and scooped his two new friends up.

“WHERE TO?” Papyrus said, determined. He was going to go and make sure that Error didn’t hurt anyone.

“Why, did you, pick us, up?!?” Dream said breathily, sounding enormously alarmed.

“WOO!! Free ride!” Ink said over him. He wiggled out of Papyrus’s grip and scrambled up him, clinging onto Papyrus like a baby Koala. “That way!!” Ink pointed directly to Alphys’s lab, where Papyrus could hear some banging and clashing now that he was focusing on it.

Papyrus ran straight for the lab, throwing out a foot to smash open the door. Quite a grand entrance if he could say so himself. The room he had burst into, on the other hand, was a mess. There was an assortment of computer bits strewn across the floor, and there was a big computer that had fallen over. Papyrus believed that his Alphys had a similar computer. Undyne had mentioned it once or twice. Of course, it was safe to assume Alphys’s was upright, but he had never been in Alphys’s lab before.

Speaking of Alphys, she was standing in a crouched position near the computer. She had her hands thrown out, as if she had hoped to stop the chaos happening but couldn’t figure out how. Her head was flipping from side to side, looking all around the room desperately, throwing her glasses half off her face. Papyrus had seen a picture of Alphys and Undyne together, and was sure that Alphys looked nothing like this. This Alphys had foggy, spiral glasses, and her outfit under the lab coat was a vibrant red and black.

There were three other monsters in the room, having a stand off in the middle of the debris. Undyne, Mettaton, and… oh dear goodness, was that Sans? Undyne and Mettaton were styled similarly to Alphys, in bright reds and pitch blacks, and they both looked… well, a lot edgier. And stronger. Then there was this Sans. He was a lot more committed to the, ah, black look. His bones themselves were a solid black, to the point that the dim, flickering lights in the lab were just absorbed into him, like a black hole. His eyelights were different sizes and colors, and he looked like he needed someone to talk to. There were glitches all along him, some just as rectangles, others saying ERROR. This Sans felt… surreal. And like he was hurting.

It took all of Papyrus’s willpower to focus on what Dream had been telling him, and not prepare a speech for this Sans. He had to trust that Blueberry knew what he was doing, and had already tried. Well, maybe not for this Sans. Maybe Dream would let him-

Ink launched himself off of Papyrus, rolling along the floor before leaping up and skidding to a halt in front of the glitching Sans.

“Ink?!” Even this Sans’s voice was glitching.

“Heya Glitchy!! Aww, come on! Were you seriously attacking these poor monsters?” Ink sounded completely unphased, barely throwing a glance at said ‘poor monsters.’

“WHAT?” The Undyne roared. She looked mean, and mad. “He killed Papyrus, so this damn fight is mine, I already need robotics over here to leave, don’t make me force you out too!” Killed… him? Papyrus? No wonder Undyne was mad. Oh, what about Sans? Papyrus knew that Sans was going through things, and he needed Papyrus to help make sure he kept going. Had this Papyrus made it into the guard? Or were his life long dreams gone? Maybe he didn’t dream of being a Royal Guardsman. What had he dreamed of? Did he ever make it? What was he leaving behind? As if sensing his thoughts, Dream snapped in front of his face, bringing him back.

“Hey- Paper! If we can stop this fight and convince Error to leave, then we can RESET the timeline! I can’t explain right now, but just know that we can undo what Error has done.” Dream said. “Also please-put-me-down-I-have-to-go-help-Ink-because-he-will-get-himself-killed,” the golden skeleton added in a rush. Papyrus set Dream down before glancing around the room again. The angry triad of monsters all seemed to be getting more aggressive with Ink himself, but Alphys just looked conflicted. With Dream heading to Ink, Papyrus felt inclined to go help Alphys. She was having a smaller problem, but smaller problems tend to get overlooked. If the Great Papyrus didn’t help her, then who would? Undyne might, but she was busy right then.

“ALPHYS?” Papyrus asked her, as gently as he could. “ARE YOU HURT?” Alphys jerked, finally sending her glasses flying. She glared at Papyrus, with small, squinting eyes.

“I’m f-fine, th-tha-thank you-ou. F-fuck o-off.” She growled. Did she just- no matter. Papyrus was ok being the bigger monster (especially because he literally was), and he could move past it. When Alphys turned to start feeling through the debri for her glasses, Papyrus took one big step and picked them up, calmly and maturely handing them to her. “I d-d-don’t need-d h-help!!! I t-t-told y-you, fuck. Off.” She said, adjusting her glasses so that she could see again. Then her jaw dropped open.

“IS THAT BETTER, FRIEND?” Papyrus tried placing an emphasis on ‘friend,’ hoping that Alphys would understand that he only wanted to help.

“P-P-Pap-Papyrus?” Alphys’s stutter only seemed to be getting worse.

“YES, THAT’S ME!! BUT YOU CAN CALL ME PAPER.” Papyrus added, remembering that this timeline had a Papyrus already… it also began to dawn on him that this timeline’s Papyrus had died. Died, what an unsettling concept.

“B-b-b-but,” Alphys said, her eyes wide. “B-b-but y-you-you’re d-d-dust..?”

“I’M… NOT YOUR PAPYRUS.” Papyrus smiled gently. “I’M SORRY.” He added.

“I- th-then wh-wh-who a-are y-you?” Alphys tried to organize herself, her eyes flitting around the room nervously.

“CALL ME PAPER. I’M HERE TO HELP! I’M STILL LEARNING WHAT TO DO THOUGH, SO MY FRIENDS ARE THE ONES WHO ARE REALLY GOING TO HELP!” Papyrus was really good at admitting when he didn’t know enough. Not knowing was frustrating, but no one could know everything. And if you can’t admit that you need help, how could you get better?

“W-we d-d-don’t n-need he-help.” Alphys said, her voice regaining the steely tone she had used earlier. She narrowed her eyes at Papyrus, and the only hint that she was nervous was the way she fiddled with her hands.

“EVERYONE NEEDS HELP, IT’S OK TO ACCEPT IT.” Papyrus said, trying his hardest to sound the exact opposite of the red Alphys. It was hard to figure out if this was just what Alphys was like, or if it was the whole Universe. If Undyne’s stories were anything to go off of, it was the Universe.

“Y-you r-really ar-aren’t P-P-Papyrus.” Alphys said with an accusatory tone. Her words helped solidify the idea that it was the Universe itself.

“ARE YOU OK?” Papyrus decided to skip over all the bickering. He was sure Dream and Ink could use his help, but no matter how Alphys was acting it was important not to leave her hanging.

“I-I-I’m fine.” She said, scowling.

“JUST IN CASE, MAY I CHECK YOUR SOUL?” Papyrus said, almost certain of her answer.

“N-no, g-g-go a-away.” Alphys said.

“AH, ALRIGHT. PLEASE STAY BACK HERE, I DON’T WANT YOU GETTING HURT.” Papyrus said, turning. Alphys seemed even more offended by his statement, but Papyrus couldn’t figure out why. He was just caring for her, after all.

“I-I’m st-staying b-b-back here b-but o-only because I w-want to!!!” Alphys said, raising her voice a little and scrunching up her eyes. Papyrus nodded absently, turning himself towards the battle he had been ignoring.

Undyne’s spears littered the wall and floor, one with it’s sharp point missing. Ink was tied up in blue strings high above the floor, his brush hanging precariously. Papyrus would go and help, but Ink was too high up to reach. Dream’s clothes were a little torn, and he had a bow with a yellow arrow nocked. His aim was switching around the circle, which gave Papyrus the impression that everyone was a threat. Maybe… maybe if he talked to Undyne she would be willing to step back.

“Where’s your blue friend, dreamy?” Error said. His words were as glitchy as his body, and they seemed to have a background noise of static. He had an edge to his voice not unlike the Alphys of this timeline, but it sounded cockier. Error’s eyelights flitted to Papyrus, and his superior grin swapped to a frown before he smiled cruelly again. “What, is this your replacement?” Error cackled, throwing his head back.

Dream stole a quick glance at Papyrus, seemingly involuntary. Undyne and Mettaton stayed focused on the others. Papyrus crept up to Undyne, and tapped her shoulder just as she seemed to brace herself to throw another spear. She whipped around, her irritation etched across her face.

“WHA-” Undyne stopped half-turn, seeing who had tapped her. Her half-formed spear dropped, shattering on the tiled floor. Sounding a lot smaller and a bit sad, she whispered. “Papyrus?”

“HELLO FRIEND. I AM NOT YOUR PAPYRUS.” Papyrus said, reaching up to wrap his hand around her shoulder, trying to be as comforting as he could. Papyrus caught Dream’s eye socket, and saw him smile gratefully before shifting back to Error. Undyne, on the other hand, quickly switched her expression. Her face snapped into a snarl, and she reached up to smack Papyrus’s hand away.

“DON’T FUCKING TOUCH ME!!” She yelled at him, spears forming above her head. At first glance, they looked strong and dangerous. But when Papyrus looked closer, he could see how thin the magic looked. Undyne didn’t want to fight him. “YOU’RE NOT PAPYRUS, AND PAPYRUS WOULD NEVER BE WEAK ENOUGH TO SHOW AFFECTION.” Undyne put emphasis on ‘affection’ like it was something evil, unwanted. How wrong that felt.

“LOVE IS NOT WEAK. AND I’M NOT YOUR PAPYRUS. PLEASE WAIT FOR ME TO EXPLAIN.” Papyrus kept his voice level, raising his hands to show he meant no harm. Undyne just made more spears.

“Not my Papyrus?! HA!! How dumb do you think I AM?!?! There’s only ONE Papyrus, and you sure as hell aren’t him!” Undyne sneered. The spears came down, and Papyrus had to throw up a bone shield. More spears missed his shield than he would’ve expected to, although he knew Undyne’s control was never as good as Papyrus’s (his was far too good to live up to).

“PLEASE WAIT FOR AN EXPLANATION!!” Papyrus turned his bones blue so that he could see Undyne. She was still growling, her brow deeply furrowed.

“Why should I speak to you?! It doesn’t matter who you are, just that you’re IMPERSONATING MY-” Undyne cut herself off. She hesitated, spears pausing and angry mask barely breaking.

“YOUR FRIEND?” Papyrus offered. Friends were important. Just like family. Papyrus knew that Undyne was important to him and vice versa in his universe, so it would make sense that it would be the same in this one, despite everyone’s bizarre personality.

“NO!!! Friends are WEAK and PATHETIC. I was GOING TO SAY my BEST GUARD!” Undyne shouted, squeezing her eyes shut. Papyrus removed his shield, and brought up blue bones around Undyne, close enough that she couldn’t use her hands to help her summon magic. Papyrus saw her eyes shoot open with shock and he saw her reach to move.

“BLUE MEANS STOP.” He said calmly. “LET ME HELP FIX WHAT’S HAPPENING HERE, AND WE CAN MAKE EVERYTHING BETTER.”

#mmm yea I have no idea what I'm doing #I'm a lot less happy w/ this chapter but I don't want to spend more time on it #and I wanna post it before things start getting crazy for me irl #Anyways. please let me know what parts of it you liked to boost my serotonin because my ego is delicate #owl's writing #my writing #classic papyrus #papyrus undertale #star sanses extended #star sanses #writblr #undertale fanfiction #utmv #underfell #underfell alphys #underfell undyne #I probably butchered those characters I'm really sorry

9 notes · View notes

saint-kore · 4 years

Text

Sins Of The Flesh [18+] (Tim Curry x Reader)

♡ A/N: Hi everyone! It’s been a while, hasn’t it? I’ve been going through a bit of a writer’s block unfortunately but now, I’m back with a nice treat! This fic is a bit scandalous but it was really fun to write! I listened to a LOT of Hozier while writing, gives me inspiration of sorts lol. I honestly haven’t written a Tim Curry fanfic in such a long time. I did/attempted to a couple of times whenever I used to lurk on the CurryFest/CurryGirls forum (which I was wayyy too young to be a part of lmao) and it was a good time and Tim Curry is amazing. Mmh but yes, I hope you all enjoy this written smut feast of a fanfic! -Persie♡

♡ Word count: 5,901 ♡

♡ Contains: Very NSFW, SMUT, A/U, oral sex, rough sex, penetration with a foreign object, taboo sex/sex in a church♡

The stained-glass windows made the walls of the Gothic-style church glow with a colorful hue as you made your way to the confessional booth. It was dark, the golden rays of the sun just peeking out to paint the sky with a dark blue and lavender hue. The sound of your steps echoing off of the walls made you wince slightly, making you almost slow your walk to keep the noise to a minimum. The silence seeming to greet you in a relief when you did, making your body focusing on the throb erupting through your body as you opened the wooden door of the confessional booth and closed it once you sat down.

You glanced over at the young priest sitting silently next to you, his expression calm and patient as he waited to hear your secrets. In the dim light, you could see his green eyes staring ahead, his full pink lips parted slightly. The scent of him thrilled you; a scent of musk, amber and a note that was unfamiliar to you but seemed to round out the scent with an oozing spiciness that made you clear your throat gently at the flickering heat that hit you.

Your secrets.

The sins that invaded your mind and preyed upon your flesh with a predatory delight. The thought made you put a soft hand up to your throat, looking down in despair. Growing up in a strict, religious household was not easy for you; you often longed to be like your peers and other young women around you who were open and wild; the smiles on their faces were ones of joy and youthful exuberance that you longed to obtain or find within yourself. You hated being proper, you found no joy in being a ‘good girl’. You had urges, urges that were described so blissfully in the adult books you often pilfered since you were a preteen, of lust and yearning. A need that led you in the arms of a sweet-talking boy from your church who clumsily handled your body and deflowered you, both of you writhing with the grace of two unpracticed teens discovering their sexual appetite but it didn’t help the feeling. A burning that skyrocketed whenever you were near the young priest beside you and you felt ashamed. Tears prick your eyes as you close them tightly, memories of the first time you met the priest entering your mind.

A bright, wide smile on his full pink lips and a warm handshake has greeted you, followed by a smooth British accent that complemented his warm, deep voice. His dark hair was neatly combed with not a strand out of place, bright green eyes, and a smooth face. He wasn’t that much taller than you, standing over you by a couple of inches with broad shoulders and a charming mien.

From behind the latticed opening, you could see a rosy flush erupt upon the young priest’s face. He quickly swallowed and looked down from you, closing his eyes and saying a silent prayer to himself under his breath. You took the moment of silence from him to continue your confession to him, your hands gripping at the sides of your chair.

“Welcome. I am Father Timothy,” he greeted gently. His voice made you feel like you were being blanketed in liquid gold and honey. You had heard whispers from the other girls about Father Timothy, followed by giggles and adoring coos about how handsome and sweet he was – something that would have definitely gotten them into trouble if heard. It was not as if you did not notice, your thoughts were riddled with thoughts of curiosity that morphed into an infatuation as you spent more time at the church – learning and serving under him. Maybe it was his wide, boyish grins or the way his eyes locked onto you for a second longer than was deemed appropriate or even the way his hand brushed yours as he looked over your scripture reading for the day. The flit of his long, dark lashes and a wicked beam could make you melt in an instant; a feeling that you had never felt for another person and having them so close and so accessible made it feel so immoral. You both had grown so close over time that he granted you permission to call him by his name when you both studied alone. You made sure not to address him by his name publicly, knowing that it would catch the attention of others who would immediately draw their negative conclusions – and maybe rightfully so. You had noticed that he wasn’t as close to the other volunteers and members of the church as he was to you, giving them small nods of acknowledgement or even engaging in moments of laughter. Yet with you, it seemed more personal and somehow even affectionate the way he would speak and interact with you. His eyes always dancing with a little light, swirling in his deep green orbs when he would look at you. The furtive glances and smiles in your direction when you both around others would make you blush. They were looks filled with interest, thought, flickers of longing, you thought. Maybe you weren’t alone in how you felt…

“Forgive me, Father Timothy, Your Reverence for I have sinned, ” you started, finally looking up at him as you addressed him properly. It made you want to look away once more, but you held his stare. “I have been having…lustful thoughts. It has been causing me great distress. I have been trying to pray away the ache and I have gone unanswered…,” you breathed, nervously clasping your hands together.

“I have,” you confirmed, tugging at the puffy sleeves of your thin shirt. You place a hand against the cool wood of the latticed window as you leaned in closer.

“Please…I need your guidance, Father. The thoughts have progressed…,” you whispered urgently, your voice like a honeyed lull in his ear. “I have been trying to get rid of it on my own,”

Your full lips parted, noticing in the corner of your eye that he had tilted his head to gaze at you through the latticed opening. You dared to gaze back at him before lowering your eyes shyly from his warm expression. Your name had slipped from his beautiful lips in a hushed whisper, making you press your thighs together to hold back the roaring need begging for you to succumb.

“When was the last time you touched yourself?” he asked, watching as you had leaned in closer. Sweat started to form on his brow as he stared at you, beginning to imagine you sprawled out on your bed while your hand drifted down your stomach before sliding into your cotton panties to stroke your slippery wetness. He swallowed hard, thinking about how tight, creamy and slick you must be in those moments and wished that he could have witnessed the moments of you giving in to your most carnal desire. Your soft, cherry lips open in an excited moan as your hands worked yourself to a release, your hand stretching the fabric of your panties.

“Last night…,” you replied to his question, making him glance away as his heartbeat picked up. His hands were gripped into fists as he tried to maintain control over himself.

“What thoughts have made you commit such a sin?” he asked, closing his eyes tightly when he heard the very faint sound of a moan escape you. He could feel your want bubbling to the surface and permeate the room. He reached down and shakily gripped a crucifix in his hot hands, looking up as he waited for you to respond. His face felt hot, trying his best to calm his shaking hands.

“Have you touched yourself…?” he inquired quietly, making your heart stopped at how husky his voice sounded. His eyes were set on you once more and you could see that he was breathing heavily at this point.

“They were thoughts about a person I see all the time. All I could think about is him…and how it would feel to have his hands all over me and running over the place I need him most. Sometimes it’s almost too much to think about, knowing that at any moment, I might be blessed enough to have his lips brush mine,” you spoke, feeling your heart begin to pour out.

He dared another glance in your direction, his heart almost stopping when he saw the look in your eyes. Gone was the sparkle of shyness that usually danced in your irises, replaced with a darkened smolder of want as your hand continued to press against the window. Your fingertips seemed to trace the design of the lattice lightly, moving along every curve absentmindedly.

You both stared at each other for a long moment, only the sound of your combined heavy breathing filling the air. You started to feel a bit self-conscious under his stare, beginning to rethink your confession.

“Y/N…we mustn’t,” he whispered at you, as if he did not want anyone else to hear his words. His green eyes were wide, his face closer to the confessional window. “It’s not right. You know that - ,”

You shook your head with a frown, realizing what you were doing and immediately felt yourself shrinking down into yourself. You looked down, your face feeling hot from shame as he spoke, and you immediately stood up. He paused in the middle of his speech when he saw you rise, following you out of the confessional booth when you left. He reached out to grab your hand, making you look back at him in surprise.

“Wait…,” he started before you shook your head, his green eyes studying you curiously once you paused.

“I’m so sorry, Timothy. I’m sorry. I feel so embarrassed. I shouldn’t have done this,” you spoke up, glancing down at your intertwined hands.

“I’m…more so surprised that you have these…feelings for me,” he said with a chuckle, trying to lighten up the mood a bit but the look in your eyes automatically intensified the moment once again.

“It’s hard to deny. Just being near you and around you make me feel good and it just feels different. I always want to feel that way and it has progressed into…this,” you explained, gazing at him with a gentle gaze. You stepped closer to him, reaching out to touch his chest. You held your breath as you did, ready for him to step away from you. You were surprised to see that he stood rooted to the spot that he was in, looking down at you with an unreadable expression. You kept you hand on his chest, feeling the warmth radiating from him. You could feel his heartbeat through the fabric, feeling it slowly begin to pick up beneath your palm. You blinked once he took his hand from his chest and brought it up to his lips to kiss your hand, placing a kiss to each one of your knuckles. You watched closely, his soft lips moving to kiss around to the inside of your wrist. You gasped gently at the sensitivity, his eyes moving to meet yours again as he pulled his lips back. His eyes slowly gained a hazy look to them as he eyed you, stroking the inside of your wrist as if he wanted to embed the kiss he placed there into your skin.

He reached to cup your cheek, the sensation making you focus on your breathing and your hand clenching at his chest, crumpling the creased fabric in your fist. Timothy seemed to hesitate for a moment, breathing from his mouth as his gaze roamed over your face and down your body.

“God, forgive me…,” he breathed, making you furrow your brows in confusion and hoped that he wouldn’t pull away again

A sharp cry escaped you, your hands moving to grip the sides of the altar as he moved his head from side to side. He let out a ravenous moan, spreading your thighs wide as he continued to devour you. His hot tongue slid from your tight opening and up to circle around your slippery jewel, eliciting a shaky moan from you. He latched his mouth around it, moaning at the taste of you. He used his thumbs to spread the puffy lips of your pussy, moving his lips from you for a moment to watch your wetness drip down your quivering cunt. He moved to lick at every drop that you gifted him, his tongue then moving to lash at your opening before he gripped your ass and pressed his tongue deep inside of your creamy slit.

“Wh--,” you were unable to finish your thought as he pressed his lips to yours in a deep kiss, both his hands coming up to cup your face as he did. You were surprised by the action but quickly began to move your lips against his, the desire that had pooled inside of your over time started to come out in that moment. You moved your arms to wrap around his neck, your hand clenching at his dark hair and tugging lightly. He let out a soft groan and moved to lift you, making you let out a surprised gasp before immediately caught yours again. You kissed him back, making sure to hold onto him as he carried you towards the white marble altar. He carefully laid you across the it, the flowers that were laid upon it falling to the floor. His hands moved up your legs, bunching your skirt up to expose your soft skin to him.

You watched with heavy lidded eyes as he parted your legs and was immediately greeted with the sight of your soft thighs and thinly covered pussy, hearing him let out a deep, guttural groan as he buried his face against your mound. He let out a moan as he inhaled the scent of you before nipping at the cotton of your panties that concealed your wetness from his hungry mouth. You shifted against the altar, feeling him grab ahold of your hips and pulled you closer to him. His hand pushed your long skirt up higher to grab at the waistband of your panties. You put your legs up as he slid them off, his hands moving to hold your legs up and together by your thighs before he pressed his hungry mouth to your juicy mound.

You let out a needy moan, his eyes watching in awe as you pulled and tugged the thin, puffed cotton shirt off of your upper half. Your nipples immediately hardened when the air hit them, his eyes glittering at the sight. He moved up to press your breasts together, suckling hard on your sensitive nipples before moving to give the other equal attention pulling a lewd moan from your throat. He slid his tongue between the valley of your breasts with a hungry moan before pulling back. He moved down to roughly pull off your skirt, tossing it on the ground and leaving you completely naked upon the altar. He knelt back down between your thighs, his hands firmly pushing them up and apart.

Hearing you coo out his name as his pink lips pressed against the pulsing jewel made him close his eyes, his cock twitching beneath his soutane. He reached down to rub himself through the dark robes, his hardness straining against his pants. He moaned deeply as he continued to lap at your wetness, obsessed with the taste of you.

You kept them in the position that he set them in, letting out a long hum of pleasure when he circled his tongue up and down the length of your pussy once more before giving little suckles at your throbbing clit.

You could not contain the passionate moans and gasps that left your lips at the sensation, one had moving to clasp over your mouth to try to muffle the sound. You were gratefully that you both were the only ones at the church at the moment. Your thoughts were interrupted when his tongue slid out of you to latch onto one of your nether lips, moaning as he suckled on it like a ripened peach. His green eyes looked up at you, urged on by your moans to continue as his nibbled on you lightly before turning to bite at the soft skin of your thigh, suckling hard to leave a mark in its wake. He licked and suckled his way all over your thighs, nibbling and biting sharply at the smooth skin. He moved back in, slurping up your wetness as he continued to grip and knead your ass. He pulled back with a shuddering breath, his darkened eyes watching you squirm in anticipation of his next move.

“Timothy…,”

Timothy felt your gushing wetness dribble down his chin continued to thrust his tongue in out of you, moaning out as you gripped at his head and made him bury his face deeper into your cunt. He quickly moved his hands down to undo his pants, moaning in relief as he was able to release himself from his pants. He quickly began to stroke himself as he continued to explore your walls with his tongue, his nose pressed and rubbing against your clit. He heard your moans become longer and breathier, making him moan more against you before pulling back. He began to stroke your sensitive clit, licking the taste of you from his bottom lip.

“Oh Timothy…,” you moaned out, unable to recognize your own voice as you called out to him. He latched onto your clit again when he heard you moan out his name again, his needy moan vibrating against you as he began to move his fingers a bit faster inside of you. The sound of your wetness echoing off the vast walls of the church along with your unsteady moans. A hungry moan escaped his lips again, slowly pulling his fingers out of you again before parting your lips again. He buried his face back into your dripping cunt, his tongue sliding in and out of you as he began to tongue fuck you. Your hand remained on the back of his head, clenching and tugging at his black locks as he worked. You shuddered and moaned passionately as you felt yourself getting closer and closer to your release, his tongue rubbing and sliding against your soaked walls before flitting against the ridged love spot.

“Release for me…please, I want to taste all of you…,” he groaned, continued to press and gently flick your clit and smiling as you twitched under the sensation. You felt something coiling like a spring inside of you, your hips raising up as your body began to tighten as he continued to rhythmically stroke and flick at your jewel. He let out a mewl before he moved to plunge his tongue back inside of you, your mouth becoming dry from your constant moans.

“Yes…yes….,” you moaned out, your walls tightening around his greedy, thrusting tongue as he worked to drive her closer and closer. You suddenly let out a sharp gasp, your hips jolting as you release. He moaned out, his hand swiping and stroking his cock a few more times before he used both of his hands to grip your thighs and held them apart as he licked and slurped down your sweet release. He panted, licking happily at her opening for every ounce of cum that you released. You watched as he stood back up, staring at you intensely as he stroked himself in front of you. Your lips parted, sitting up on your elbows as you watched him. His hand worked up and down his shaft, watching the small pearl of precum form at the tip before his fingers came up to swipe it away as he smoothed around his tip.

“I want to hear you say my name again,” he purred darkly, spreading your lips apart again with one hand as his other hand stroked your wetness slowly. He used one of his warm fingers to press against your wet slit, his lips parting as he watched your wetness glisten against his hand. You whimpered softly, your hips shifting at the new sensation. You heard him murmur at you to relax before he pushed a finger inside of you. You gasped at the new sensation, wanting to clasp your legs together but you kept your legs apart as he invaded her soft, wet walls. Timothy groaned at the feeling of your walls clasping around his digit, leaning up to generously lick at your swollen clit once more. He closed his eyes, moaning to himself as he began to slowly thrust his finger in you. You moaned out, gazing up at the ceiling as tried your best to focus on the sensations occurring between your thighs. The combined colors of the stained windows upon the domed ceiling like a kaleidoscope to your hazy eyes. When he curled his finger inside of you, your hands shot down to grip at his dark hair with a surprised moan. Your thighs tensed as he continued before he moved to push another finger inside of you, moving his fingers in a scissoring motion to open you up.

He was immediately pulled in by your bright eyes, shy smiles and your will to help others within the church and the charitable tasks that everyone participated in. Yet, he was also ensnared by the sway of your hips, the swell of your breasts beneath your button ups and the soft skin that would occasionally become exposed from your midriff when you would reach for something on a shelf or whenever you would bend down to and your skirt would slide up the back of your thighs. The way you would bite the side of your lip while you concentrate always distracted him or whenever you brush your soft hand against your round throat absentmindedly as you read through scripture. He even would lean close to you in those moments, his nose immediately hit with the scent of your sweet, floral perfume. It was exhilarating and frightening to find you occupying his dreams during the night and silently hoping that it felt real enough just to feel a tiny wisp of your touch on his skin. He had that moment now and wasn’t going to let the moment slip from him.

“Pull your legs up…,” he commanded firmly, making you jump slightly before you grabbed your legs by the back of your knees and pulled your legs up against you. You blushed as your pussy was completely exposed to him once again, watching as he stepped forward with a grin. He began to unbutton his soutane, removing the coat before loosening his shirt after. You began to wonder what he would do next, your heart picking up as all of the possibilities floated through your mind. You hitched a breath as you felt a number finger slide up and down your extremely sensitive pussy. The sensation boarded on being too extreme, a hiss escaping your hoarse throat as he teased you lightly. You suddenly felt cold metal touch you, it was rounded, and you let out a cry as it brushed your slippery clit. You heard a dark chuckle escape him, one that was unfamiliar to you. You felt a renewed dark lust wash over you before a sharp cry escape you as he pushed the item inside of you. Your eyes rolled back for a moment as it plunged into you, making you part your legs slightly. A gasp escaped you when you saw the glint of the silver cross slowly pushed inside of you. He left it planted snugly inside of you, flicking at your clit before giving it a light tug with his lips. He laughed softly at the moan that escaped you, moving towards the other end of the altar where your head laid.

He gently pulled you upward, making you automatically let go of the back of your knees. You kept your legs apart, moaning at the sensation of the cross shifting inside of you. Your head hung off of the altar, watching as his legs moved as he walked back around to your bottom half. You moaned out he made sure that the cross stayed planted inside of your soft, wet opening. Timothy moaned as he could see you pussy clinging at it. You felt his hand brush against your stomach and breasts as walked back around to your head. You felt slightly lightheaded; your lips parting as you watched him exposed himself to your eyes. You studied his veiny shaft, the light pink tip leaking before he took a hold of the base of shaft and brushed against your pouty lips and chin. He traced your lips with the tip, hearing him breathing heavily above you.

“You’re so beautiful…,” he breathed, a groan following quickly behind as his cock twitched in his palm. He looked at your body for a moment, taking in the sight of your bare flesh and immediately thought of all the times he has imagined this before. It was inappropriate, it was sinful, it was all of the things that shouldn’t run through the mind of a man of God but, he was still a man. He knew that dedicating his life to a purpose such as this at a young age would come with its temptations and when he first met you, he knew that you were one of the lures.

“Open your mouth,” he spoke in a raspy tone, his accent heavier than before. You moaned lightly before parting your lips for him, moaning as he plunged his length into your mouth. You closed your eyes tightly, feeling his hot hand grasp lightly at your throat as he slowly thrusted into your mouth. You heard a series of heated moans leaving his lips. Your tongue slid on the top of his cock as he thrusted, clenching your throat tighter. You moaned, your hips twisting slightly as he continued. The sound of his soft praises met your ears, making your moan around his cock. You gagged once he gave a hard thrust, lodging himself in your throat and swallowed around his thick length. You struggled to breathe as he leaned over you, a whimper escaping you as he gave your wet mound a light smack. You moaned loudly around his cock, your eyes clenched tightly as he began to move it inside of you for a moment before giving your pussy a couple of harder smacks and making another muffled cry erupt from you. He gave your wet, suckling mouth a couple of hard thrusts before finally pulling out. You let out a gasp, breathing heavily as you tried to catch your breath. You obediently opened your mouth again for him once he came back, groaning as he began to thrust into your mouth once more, his tip moving to enter her throat once more. His hands moved to grab at your breasts, roughly kneading them as he thrusted hard into your mouth. You gagged and coughed around him, focusing on his loving, passionate words and mewling moans through the act. You did your best to take it, his slick cock sliding in and out of your mouth.

“Oh Y/N…,” Timothy moaned out, rolling his hips to plunge his shaft deep into your throat and holding it there. You felt the saliva from your efforts rolling down your face, making you close your eyes tighter. You breathed through your nose, gagging loudly and hearing him groan out as your throat muscles clasped at him. He gave your throat a hard squeeze, making you let out strangled yelp around him. A loud hiss escaped him as he gave you several short yet hard thrusts deep in your throat before suddenly pulling out, gasping again and coughing to catch up with the needed oxygen. Your face was soaked with saliva as you slowly sat up. Your limbs were shaky as you kept your sore legs parted. You moaned as he pressed Timothy pressed his lips roughly to yours, pressing his tongue into your mouth. His tongue swirled around yours before suckling on your tongue lightly, pulling back after. He gazed at you with heavy-lidded eyes, stroking your cheek.

Timothy smirked softly, gently using the cloth from his pant pocket to wipe the mess from your face. He leaned in to give you bottom lip a little suckle and another peck on the lips before leaning his forehead on yours. Your eyes gazed into his green orbs, staring deep into your eyes.

He smiled wider as his hand went between your legs to slowly pull the cross out of your pussy, seeing that he was completely coated with your essence. He moaned as he looked at it, bringing it to his lips to lick away some of your juices while staring into your eyes. He leaned it towards your lips and you immediately opened your mouth to suckle at the warm juices that leaked down the cross. Timothy’s smile faded as he watched with a parted mouth, his swollen lips reddened and wet with your essence. He pulled the cross away to press his lips to yours once more, kissing you deeply once more and moaning softly when he could taste you on your tongue.

He threw the cross onto the ground as you parted, nibbling on your lip briefly before grabbed you and turned you to bend over the altar. You let out a soft moan, your hands pressed against the polished marble of the altar. Your arms were shaking as you waited for his next action, feeling him press a strong hand against your back to make you arch. You instinctively stood on your tiptoes, feeling his hands knead and rub your ass once more. You focus on the wall in front of you, feeling the cool metal of his belt brush against the back of your thigh as he got close, his heat radiating against your back side. You let out a hoarse moan, feeling him slowly press himself inside of you. You heard a loud moan leave him as he stretched your walls, his grip on your hips becoming rougher as his fingers pressed into your soft skin. Your hands balled up into fists as you felt his hips press firmly against yours, his shaft settled deep inside of you.

He slowly pulled back before rolling his hips forward, giving you a deep thrust before setting into a punishing rhythm. His hands kept ahold of your hips, the sound of his pants and deep groans filling air as he thrusted into you. You couldn’t hide the passionate moans that left your lips, trying your best to stay up. Timothy took note of this and grabbed a fistful of your hair, keeping you up as he began to thrust harder into you, his hips smacking against your ass.

“Oh yes…,” he moaned deeply, giving a sharp tug at your hair to pull another loud moan from you. He slammed into you a couple of more times and let out a loud moan of pleasure, your cunt gripping his cock firmly. He gave gentle pat to your behind before pulling out, making you lay down on the altar once more.

He grabbed your legs and positioned them over his shoulders, his cock aiming at your drenched slit before slowly pushing into you once more. You watched his face as his eyes rolled back, feeling him rolling his hips against you before pulling back to start up a thrusting rhythm once more. His hips smacked hard against the back of your thighs as he slammed into you, a crying moan living your lips as he continued. He grabbed your hips, helping you meet his thrusts as he continued to plunge into you. His eyes widened as you reached down to rub at your already sensitive clit as he thrusted, a whimper escaping him as he watched your circled your clit and gently rubbed it in time with his thrusts. The sight made him thrust harder, locking eyes with you when he felt himself getting closer to his release. His hand slid up your belly to grip at your throat, clenching firmly as he pounded into you roughly. You kept eye contact with him, feeling his cock throb inside of you. Your moans becoming more and more intense as he continued to roughly handle you. You let out a soft cry as you came once again, your walls rippling around his shaft. You gasped as he clenched your throat tighter at the sensation of you releasing around his cock, giving you a few more hard thrusts before giving you one last hard thrust and kept himself burying himself inside of you as he came hard inside of you.

A loud groan left him, giving shallow thrusts as he emptied himself inside of you. You felt the warmth of his seed spread inside of you; the feeling was comforting in a way. You both stayed intertwined before he slowly lowered your legs from his shoulders. You winced lightly at the sensation, but he handled you with care, making sure not to make your legs swing.

“Come here…,” he whispered as he opened his arms to you, making you slowly sit up to accept his embrace. He leaned down to give you a passionate kiss, nuzzling his nose against yours after. He smoothed your hair back from your face, kissing your forehead before rubbing your arms gently to warm you when he noticed you shiver and gave you another warm, long embrace. He gathered your clothes for you, being gentle as he possibly could with your sensitive body. You felt so special, as if you were made of priceless porcelain with the care that he made sure to give you.

Timothy looked at you with a warm admiration after you both fixed yourselves up. You were carefully as you stood up, his seed still warm in your belly as the vibrant rays of sunlight began to rise and change the color from its former lavender to a true blue as the morning began to come in with renewed life.

“Will you be attending service today?” he asked softly as he walked with you, making you smile at him.

“Maybe,” you responded quietly, glancing over at him. A broad smile broke over his face as he rubbed your back before quickly, chastely pecking your cheek again and stroked your chin lightly. He bit his lip as he looked at you, glancing at the window furtively when he saw cars pulling up to the church, signaling the early risers arriving. He sighed inwardly, not wanting the moment to end. He knew that you probably wouldn’t come to service but wanted to make sure to see you again today.

“See me later then? I want to do this different. Properly…,” he asked quietly, grabbing ahold of your hand momentarily and continued to stroke your chin. You smiled sweetly at him before quickly nodding in response, feeling him squeeze your hand firmly in promise of what was to come before you both parted ways until the moment you would be in each other’s arms once more.

♡

#tim curry #tim curry x reader #tim curry fanfic #smut #take me to church #alternate universe #au #tim curry/reader #Tim Curry #tim curry fanfiction #tim curry smut

64 notes · View notes

kookiebunnii · 4 years

Text

d4u || c’s get degrees

sept. 2018. this is my first time having a class with guk. we like to make bets on things to satisfy jungkook’s competitive instinct and the reward is usually food-related. i guess this quarter will be no different.

pairing: bestfriend!jungkook x reader

genre: slice of life

word count: 2.4k

warnings: n/a

sept. 2018

If there was one thing Jungkook loved, it was competition. You still remember the phase where he’d respond “bet” to anything you said, even if it made no sense.

Let’s have Chinese takeout for dinner. Bet.

Don’t forget your keys like you did last time. Bet.

If you say “bet” one more time, I’ll throw your Widowmaker mousepad out the window. Bet.

He’d always be the one to suggest playing rock, paper, scissors for the last slice of pizza, betting that if a coin turns up heads then you would have to do the dishes tonight instead, or begging you to play some new video game with him so he could 1v1 you over a large sum of five dollars. Maybe it was the adrenaline he craved or the fact that he could rarely find something he was not skilled at. However, after all the years he’s known you, he has realized that he’s finally met his match. You always watch uninterestedly as the coin lands on tails and Jungkook howls in pain over the kitchen sink. Similarly, you grew used to noncommittedly charging him $5.00 on Venmo as he repeatedly demands a rematch because the game was bugged or his character was lagging.

Perhaps the boy was known for being good at everything, but it seemed that luck was always on your side.

Breaking out of your reverie, you watch as Jungkook dashes across the apartment in search for something. While you spread Nutella over a piece of lightly browned toast, your eyes follow his frantic movements in amusement. Biting into your breakfast for the day, you hum happily as the chocolate-y flavor spreads across your tongue.

“What are you looking for e-boy?” you ask before taking a sip of the milk in your cup.

“I can’t find my penny board…have you seen it?” he starts opening all the cupboards one by one, as if his skateboard would be in the kitchen shelf next to the canned spam.

“I hid it,” you casually state, hiding your grin behind a nibble of toast.

He stops in his tracks, looking you dead in the eye before calmly replying, “And why would you do that?”

Brushing the crumbs from your fingertips onto your plate, you skip past him to respond in a chirpy tone, “Every time you used that cursed thing you’ve come back with a new cut or scrape. We’re running out of my favorite Hello Kitty band-aids, so I’ve decided you need a break from your precious board.”

He seems to be ready to retort something back in response, but with one look at his right arm he’s forced to agree that maybe he should rely on his own two legs for the next week or two. Huffing indignantly, he grabs the other piece of toast you’ve left for him on the plate and begins spreading generous amounts of the hazelnut spread while you get ready for class.

Surprisingly, you and Jungkook have the same class this quarter on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Since the two of you were different majors, you never really discussed schedules with him and only ever really asked about his classes to know when you should expect him to be at home. However, it turns out that this class in question is notorious for being an easy pick to fulfill a GE requirement all students had to complete for graduation, so you couldn’t say it was a complete surprise that the two of you were simultaneously enrolled.

Minutes later, you cover your mouth as you yawn at the doorway, watching Jungkook sling his backpack over his shoulder. He freezes, mumbling something that you assume is a list of all the things he needed for the day to ensure that he doesn’t forget anything.

As he does this mental recital, you reach up and smooth out some hair sticking up at the top of his head. He’s rather tall, so you do your best to tip-toe and ensure that the gel in his hair is adequately spread over his brown locks to make him look as presentable as possible—which you admit must be tough for the poor gel product. He flicks you gently on the forehead as soon as he notices you holding in your laughter over this thought.

“I know you’re thinking something funny about me again. Stop.”

You give him your most innocent smile before heading out the door, slipping your earbuds in to listen to your regular “commute tunes” playlist.

After the short bus ride, he gently bumps into your side to get your attention. You pull out your earbuds and give him a questioning look and soft shoulder bump of your own. Based on the mischievous look on his face, you knew that the premonition you had this morning about Jungkook’s competitiveness was a warning sign.

“Since we have the same class this quarter, how about we bet on who will get the higher grade?” he grins happily, his whole body seemingly lit with excitement.

“Are you sure, Mr. Film Studies major? This is a philosophy class,” you quip, watching as masses of students trickle around the two of you like slippery salmon in a never-ending stream.

“It’s not like you’d have an edge either Miss International Business major” he laughs, and you can hear the confident tone in his voice. Jungkook genuinely thinks he has a chance.

How cute.

Right before you two enter through the classroom door, you pull him aside. The confident way he leans back to look at you tells you that he knew you wouldn’t be able to reject his offer. You never backed down on his challenges, and that’s why he liked you so much.

“Loser treats winner to Korean BBQ,” you state plainly, casually glancing down at your phone to check the time. Two minutes before class starts.

“Sure.”

Satisfied, you head into class and look around for two empty seats that were side-by-side. It wasn’t a habit that you were used to, since you rarely had friends in your university courses. However, with Jungkook beside you, it felt like a natural and customary reaction to scan the room for two empty seats instead of one. It was like pulling out two plates for dinner every night, stopping at a bakery when your cravings hit to buy your favorite dessert and a slice of banana bread to-go, or sending him a meme as you scroll through Reddit that you knew would make him laugh. You were unconsciously conscious of him.

The weeks passed like a summer’s breeze, so enjoyable that you’re left awestruck until it’s over. You enjoyed dodging around Jungkook’s questions whenever he struggled with the homework, watching him nap on his notebook while you took lecture notes, and distracting him with text messages when you didn’t want to pay attention in class so that he wouldn’t be able to either. It was almost like high school again, back when you used to be able to spend time with him and mess around in class with the teacher being none the wiser. Before long, finals had come around and you were feeling a little nervous to say the least. Jungkook refused to tell you what he got on the midterm, and by extension his grade in the course, thereby keeping you in the dark. Your grade wasn’t terrible, but you knew that Jungkook wasn’t a complete dummy because he always performed well when he was focused. Free Korean BBQ could do that to a man.

“Do you want to study together?” you ask, finding him laying on the couch and playing a racing game on his phone. You watch as his round eyes focus on the screen intently, waiting for him to blink.

“Sure. I’m not helping you though.”

You laugh, bringing your face close enough that it was right above the phone in his hands. Making weird faces to distract him from his game, you reply, “As if. I’m just checking to see how behind you are in this class.”

He finishes and tosses his phone on the tabletop. Looking at you disinterestedly, he pinches one of your cheeks and gets up when you wiggle out of his grasp. It looks like he’s going to get his stuff, so you head into your own room to prepare your books for a productive study session.

One of the highlights of your university was its library. You always came here to study instead of studying at home or going to a café. Being at home was sometimes distracting, especially when you could hear Jungkook roasting his team over voice chat well into the late night. Given how much you were consuming at your new barista job, you also decided to avoid places with delicious pastries, lest you wanted more feelings of disappointment during your next weigh-in at the doctor’s.

Finding a table with space for two, you sit down and begin pulling all of your supplies out of your backpack. Your enjoyed studying with a particular organization of notes and texts, so you had your favorite animal post-its on hand. Using them to indicate the beginning of your lecture notes, you begin going through what you’ve written with a light yellow highlighter. After doing this for a few pages, you peek at Jungkook’s work to find him doodling in the margins.

Leaning over, you draw a cute stick figure pointing to Jungkook’s doodle in awe. To get the full effect, you include a speech bubble of the character saying “WOW!”

He smiles before giving your stick figure a gorgeous mustache and top hat.

Surprisingly, the two of you get a lot done that day. You expected to be consistently distracted, but Jungkook kept to himself whenever he was really focused. Maybe he was always like this with studies he was interested in, but either way you quite liked how focused he was being. His wide eyes were trained on the text in front of him as he absentmindedly tapped his pen against his cheek in thought. Once in a while the pen tilts dangerously close to his mouth, and as you catch him proceeding to take an unconscious bite of the cap, you pull his hand away in alarm.

“You have a habit of putting things in your mouth. Perhaps you’re into that, but for your health let’s not,” you chastise, pulling the pen out of his grasp and tapping him on the head with it.

Grinning, he proceeds to try and bite your shoulder. You almost screech in alarm at his attack before remembering that you’re in a very public library with students already taking notice of the way you were practically falling out of your chair in horror. Clearing your throat and straightening your jacket, you give Jungkook a dirty look before turning away to focus on your textbook again.

Finals turned out to be much easier than you anticipated, which matched up to the past experiences you’d gathered from previous students of the course. It was clear to you that you and Jungkook had over-studied, but what captured your interest with greater intensity was the final grade in the course. As you happily noted the bright 97.6% flashing back at you on the screen, you could practically taste the yummy samgyeopsal on your tongue. Guess what makes food even better? When it’s free!

You slide over to Jungkook’s room and peek inside, hoping he wasn’t in the middle of a game. Luck finds you again when you witness him exiting out of the League of Legends application on his setup and spinning around in his bright orange gamer chair to greet your new intrusion. He quickly pulls his headset off to hear you better, to which you respond by diving face-first onto his bed and rolling up in his blanket like Y/N burrito just to bother him. When he makes a sound of annoyance and begins prying the sheets off you, you know you’ve attained your goal and begin helping him unravel you.

“What do you want?” he prods you off the bed so he can redo his sheets.

“Have you seen your PHIL grade yet?” you begin pretend-boxing with his back as the punching bag. He doesn’t seem to like this very much either, because he quickly spins around and grabs onto your fists to stop you.

“I have. Guess you’re taking me to KBBQ tonight?” he tries to tickle you out of spite, but you know he’s in a good mood. You’re rarely this playful with him, preferring to silently annoy him or treat him more like a troublesome younger brother to look out for. But what can you say? A free dinner peaks your mood.

“What’d you get then smartass?”

He pretends to think for a bit with his hand on his chin, “You first.”

Confidently, you stand up to him and puff your chest out in pride while jabbing his chest with each digit that comes out of your mouth.

“97.6% baby. Anyways, there’s this new spot 15 minutes away Luce told me about, I think you should treat me there-”

“Hm, 97.7% here baby,” a smirk sliding easily across his features as he mocks your previous tone, “What was that about a new place?”

Wide-eyed, you demand to see his grade on the university’s portal page. There’s no way this slick kid managed to get a higher grade than you…especially by a tiny percentage point! He’s got to be joking, maybe betting that you wouldn’t actually fact-check his claims or something…

Alas, as he shows you his screen while laughing in crazed triumph, you feel like breaking his obnoxious rainbow-lit keyboard as he runs around his room doing victory laps. You always thought luck would be on your side, especially when it came to studies, but perhaps you had used up all your free passes this year.

Breezing past him, you head to your room to find a light coat for the evening and your car keys. Jungkook seems to find that following you as you complete this task is entertaining, because you have to try your absolute best not to look at him as he tries to get your attention by making his typical crackhead expressions.

“Put on one of your weeb hoodies with the anime chicks and let’s go.”

“Wind out of your sails Y/N?”

He grabs you by the shoulders in an attempt to spin you around, but one well-aimed knee to the balls later, Jungkook seems to enjoy lying on the floor clutching his precious package more than teasing you with his antics.

Mental note: never make a bet with Guk again.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

<< previous || masterlist || next >>

110 notes · View notes

pl-panda · 4 years

Text

Damienette arranged marriage: part 25

Credits: Miraculous Ladybug team for the elements I take from MLB show. DC for their characters, @ozmav for the AU, @maribat-archive for giving me access to so many different stories to have take inspirations from, @thyladyanput for idea for Chat Damian and me for the plot.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 part 14 part 15

part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21

Part 22 Part 23

Part 24

Damienette arranged marriage: part 25

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

Tossing her weapon at him and using some of the moves she learned from maman over the years.

This was like a spark. Immediately after Ladybug’s charge, other heroes also attacked. The battle has begun. At least until there was an ear-piercing cry of pain that got everyone’s attention.

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

During previous encounters with the superheroes Mayura had much less trouble. It was clear that Pink Tigress was much better trained. Nathalie herself was a master martial artist even outside of the suit and her skill only increased when she put on the feathered outfit. But this was something entirely different.

Mayura redirected a very quick jab of the Chakram with her fan, but she had no chance to counterattack because Pink Tigress did not lose balance and instead followed up with low kick. The blue villainess jumped up to avoid it and used the opportunity for a scissor kick of her own. Her opponent reacted in time to cross her hands in front and rebound her, but it only led to further stand-off. They proceeded to meet each other in close quarter, exchanging quick, but viscious strikes. They were pretty evenly matched, at least it looked like that for first minute or so. But with each move it became clearer that even if Mayura had skill to back her up, she lacked in terms of deadliness. Tigress was silent and composed as the fight went on, while the peacock miraculous started to panic. It might have been just three minutes at best, but Nathalie found herself at complete defence, being pushed back constantly.

While the two women were fighting between themselves, Chat Noir and Ladybug had their own battle going on. Over the course of last month Marinette trained with her mother to utilize her yo-yo as more than just a simple thrown weapon. Before she didn’t really connect her fighting style with the projectile. It sometimes served as a shield for her to block the attacks but offensively it was much harder to utilize. At least until her mother helped her change perspective. The yo-yo was basically a blunt version of rope dart. She could use it both as a projectile as well as at close range. Sometimes the young girl even grabbed the weapon and used it like a stone to add weight to her attacks.

At the same time, it was clear that Chat Noir did not stop training. Marinette kicked herself over and over that she did not recognize clear fencing training before, but right now it was different. Adrien was now fighting with much more aggression than before. He did not back away or dodge the attacks, instead taking them on the weapon or even forearms or legs. He just pushed ahead. At first Ladybug tried to regain control and momentum she had in the beginning, but this new viciousness force her to stay defencive. She rather quickly got pressed to the wall.

“You don’t deserve to be Ladybug!” Chat Noir shouted at her. “Cataclysm!” The pasisian heroine managed to dodge the last second as the black bubbling energy crashed into the wall. The structure crumbled and cracks started to go up and onto the roof. Adrien turned where Ladybug lunged to to avoid his attack and fumed with anger. “You took everything from me Ladybug! You turned her against me! You corrupted her! But it doesn’t matter. She is the true ladybug and not some imposter. After my father is done I will give her your miraculous and we will be the greatest heroes Paris… No! The Wor…” He didn’t finish his speech because Ladybug lunged and pushed him away as a large chunk of debris fell where he just stood. Marinette could be disgusted with what Adrien has become, but deep down she still saw a friend. A friend she would not let die. In the impact, the ring slipped from his finger and rolled away. Adrien wanted to grab it, but a quick punch from his former partner knocked him out cold.

Elsewhere in the room, Viperion just managed to get the akumatized object. He quickly broke it and released the Akuma, causing the gorilla to fall down exhausted. Luka did not have time to focus on this. He turned to where Ryuko and Hawkmoth were going at it. She was a world-class fencer, but somehow Gabriel Agreste could match her and even overpower her. He was pushing the girl back. Then, he suddenly drawn a hidden sword from his cane and lunged at Ryuko. Without second thought, Viperion tossed his lyre like a frisbee to stop the attack. It worked, but he didn’t notice Mayura and Tigress fight getting dangerously close to him. Before he even realize the blue vilanness held him in front of her like a human shield, making it impossible for him to use second chance.

“Give up Tigress. Or the boy will suffer.” She threatened and to make it more real, she pressed the bladed fan to his neck. “We wouldn’t want to spill any snake blood today, now would we?”

Instead of answering, Pink Tigress tossed her chakram up. The spinning weapon bounced from the roof and fell at Mayura. She had no time to follow up on her threat and instead pushed the boy forward while she jumped back. She did slip the bracelet from his hand at the same time, making him detransform.

Ryuko noted the whole event in the corner of her eye. She was grateful to Luka for helping her, but she would berate the reckless boy later. For someone so composed he rushed in too often. She refocused on her battle. The plan was to keep Hawkmoth busy while other heroes get rid of any support so they could overwhelm the villain. So far it didn’t work as planned. She was on constant defensive.

“Tell me, miss Tsurugi. What would your mother say if she saw you get defeated by a civilian with so little training.” Hawkmoth teased her. “She would be so disappointed in you.” He added in mocking tone. Ryuko withstood the banter without even blinking. She tried to shrug it off, but he started to get to her. He also had to notice that her moves became more sloppy, because Gabriel continued with the mockery. “Or maybe she already resent you for skipping so many classes and trainings to just play hero? I can’t imagine what will she say…” He finally managed to catch her sword in place long enough with his own blade to use the cane he still held in the other hand to strike her arm. The pain made her let go of her weapon, but she made no notable sound. She tried to punch him, but Hawkmoth stepped out of the way and grabbed her choker instead. Kagami detransformed and fell on the ground, panting from exhaustion.

The whole building was falling apart and more debris now landed. A particularly big chunk would crush the fencer, but Sabine noticed in time.

“Power Up! Strength!” She jumped to where the girl stood and stopped her from turing into a wet puddle. At the same time, more chunks fell, cutting them off for the most part.

“Thank you madame.” Kagami bowed while still lying on the ground. “I owe you my life.”

“No worry sweety. Let’s finish it and go skin a cat, okay?” Sabine focused and used her enchanted strength to push the large chunk away and release them. She picked the girl and jumped out.

In front of her, the scene was mortifying. Hawkmoth held blade at Ladybug’s neck while she was forced to kneel before him. Next to him, Mayura had Luka in similar position.

“I think that was enough of the show.” The villain commented. You’ve all proven just how strong and heroic you are… But it ends here.” He was about to grab the earrings of Ladybug, but she started to toss around.

“Hold still girl if you want to see your friend and yourself walk out of here alive!” Mayura threatened her. To enforce the point made by his partner, Hawkmoth pressed the blade closer, drawing some blood. A single droplet traveled along the edge and hit the floor. The heroine felt her whole body go stiff with fear. She silently accepted her fate when suddenly there was an ear-piercing cry of pain behind her. The blade, together with hand that was holding it, fell to the ground. Hawkmoth stumbled holding the stump that used to be his hand. Behind him Damian wiped the blood from his blade.

“Leave. My Wife. Alone!” He barked and turned to Mayura. “The game is over.”

——————————————————————————————————–

Taglist (sorry if I missed you)@pheonixashtree @sassakitty @unabashedbookworm @vixen-uchiha @maggiecc12 @actualdisasterwoman @tired-butterfly @shizukiryuu @floralfi @imanerddealwith @northernbluetongue @krispydefendorpolice @toodaloo-kangaroo @dast218 @bluesoulblueheart @theatreandcomicfreak @disneyfoxuniverse @mindfulmagics @alwaysnumberonetruth @nyaabinch @jardimazul @lenamau @rosep16 @dramatic-squirrel @sonif50 @daminett4life @lulutheawkwardess @weird-pale-blonde-person @mooshoon @jeminiikrystal @mochegato @moonlightstar64 @dragonflyswing @silverwhiteraven @shamefullove @magic-miraculous @valeks-princess @heaven428 @mlbchaosqueen @winter-gardenflower @spicybelladonna @emo-elaine13 @vetilora @karukofox21 @my-name-is-michell @sturchling @lokiifriggasonn @redscarlet95 @melicmusicmagic @interobanginyourmom @the-fusionist @razzledazzle247 @miss-mysterys-blog @darkthunder1589 @i-is-mysterious @catthhay @the-one-woman-army @zestyzealot @dahjokester @write-for-your-life2 @mermaidreject @peachedpocky @sassakitty @dahjokester @crazylittlemunchkin @novicevoice @justafanwarrior @eliza-bitch @schrodingers25 @tired-butterfly @toodaloo-kangaroo @redscarlet95 @miukiiu @sassakitty @corabeth11 @vixen-uchiha @lilypos03

242 notes · View notes

harseik · 3 years

Photo

<< < | > >>

Can you tell my favorite color is orange?. Might've been too subtle before. *Facepalm.* My filter addiction is palpable.

There were many days since page 1 where I wasn't chipping away at this page. Might've been due to all the last-minute schedule changes at my work, but I've also been getting super focused on the six main cast members of Firesiders. Was spending a lot of time on OneNote brainstorming and ironing details. Ideas are flying at me a mile a minute, whoo! I really gotta focus on this current project though. I'll be eighty by the time I get this thing done if I don't.

Panel 1: Awkwardly drawn perspective shot on Lupe, but frankly, I love the background painting.

Panel 2: New color for Noah's jacket. This is why. I honestly really like the light gray more, but as a result, Lupe's colors had to be changed to compensate (original ref here). I omitted the Terrifier graphic from her tank-top after realizing she's gonna be wearing her backpack virtually the whole time anyway. / SO MANY SPEEDLINES. I got really carried away - my bad. Again, no sound effects. I'm still wussing out over utilizing them because I often come up with really dumb-looking onomatopoeias.

Panel 3/4: I drew the trajectory of the spray can in a weird way where it almost looks like it's hitting Lupe in the head. HA. As for why the two look like they have a Hercules glow around them, I'm not sure how that happened.

Panel 5: Djarum Blacks. You ain't goth unless you smoke these. The internet would never lie to me. Drawing him coughing on the smoke after being startled would've looked better. I only just thought of that, aww.

Panel 6: The light's flooding out poor Marcus, nooo! I hope the speech bubbles help guide the eye to where he is. / I didn't get the intended result when I rendered the ladder and lights here. My aim was to make them painterly like the background for that screenshot look I'm always going for, but it didn't work out. They just turned out looking all traced and out of place. Curses! Hope the upcoming pages come out MUCH quicker. REFERENCES: Ladder: https://sketchfab.com/3d-models/step-ladder-1effe3fb61604b6d856c56fbe8baddb6 Dust mask: https://sketchfab.com/3d-models/protective-half-mask-e34a310360f146dc8e9f467e141583cc Industrial light: https://sketchfab.com/3d-models/industrial-worklights-229b1ac05a2e4f9d94a9c8495ece7e82 Diesel generator: https://sketchfab.com/3d-models/generator-13e959e64c9540efb8c9c6d12c2f2b96

7 notes · View notes

aspiringprofessionalnerd · 4 years

Text

Wei Wuxian and the Trauma of the Burial Mounds

Sorry folks I am officially In My Feels after therapy this week, and then I came online this afternoon to see that @hunxi-guilai has knocked it out of the park with their analysis again. I love to see that people are talking about the portrayal of WWX’s trauma on a larger level, and I wanted to add my two cents:

Pre-Resurrection

First of all, I want to acknowledge that WWX is far from the only person who experiences trauma throughout the course of CQL ahem Jiang Cheng . Even WWX endures various types of trauma throughout his first life. But what I’m so impressed (and gutted) by is the way in which the show establishes that it is WWX’s first stint in the Burial Mounds specifically that breaks him (or, at least, catalyses his breakdown).

We know WWX has had a difficult childhood and teen years. He lost his parents at a young age and had to survive on the streets for an unspecified amount of time, facing physical and logistical hardships like running from dogs and battling starvation (no cultivation training yet, so no opportunity to train inedia) as well as the grief of losing his parents. Yet, remarkably, aside from his lingering fear of dogs, these incidents don’t seem to leave too many lasting physical or emotional scars. WWX is able to jump around and play with his adoptive brother on his first night at Lotus Pier, and when we see him in his teen years at Cloud Recesses Summer Camp he is a warm, bubbly individual with no reservations about physical contact (on the contrary, he’s more gung-ho about it than LWJ would like). He remains open to new experiences and new people, and even though he uses humour to obfuscate at times, the people close to WWX can still see through to his deeper intentions (take, for example, Yanli reminding Jiang Cheng that WWX is serious about the important things). Moreover, once the Jiang siblings and WWX return to Lotus Pier, we gain a greater appreciation for the past things WWX has survived, including years of verbal abuse some awkward family dynamics. Madam Yu’s words obviously hurt him, but even so he bounces back almost immediately and diverts his attention to comforting Jiang Cheng despite the fact that he is still recovering from Teenage Mutant Murder Turtle injuries himself. I think there is an important distinction to be made here: it’s not that criticism and harsh conditions just roll off of WWX. He DOES process and internalise them, but he keeps going and maintains his faith and openness in spite of having these negative experiences. Clearly, he is a remarkably resilient person.

After the massacre at Lotus Pier and Jiang Cheng’s loss of his golden core, we see WWX wrestle with more complex emotions: grief, guilt, and concern. It’s obvious that Wei Wuxian is suffering acutely, but he’s still doing it in a way that’s very true to his character as we know it. He’s crying. He’s seeking physical comfort from Yanli. He’s proactive, looking to plan and problem-solve. Yes he balks a little at what JC’s core recovery will involve, but his overall reaction is primarily one of satisfaction and relief.

We don’t see too much of WWX between the mountaintop ordeal and his dropping into the Burial Mounds, but I think we have enough material to say that he is still in command of his own mind and maintains his sense of agency. You can tell that our Wee Sweaty Boi has been through the wringer, but he’s still quite animated and even cheeky when facing off against Wen Chao and Wen Zhuliu in the teahouse. That dog speech? Damn. Classic WWX. He might die, but he’s not going down without getting the last word. It’s only when they are all riding swords to the weirdest and most out of place glam rock score in the entire series wtf over the Burial Mounds that we see an inkling of genuine horror cross WWX’s face.

Take now, by contrast, WWX’s reactions and interactions post-Burial Mounds. His flinchy moments inspired such a visceral reaction in me. I’m a repeat trauma survivor as well, and when I saw the way that WWX jerked back from NHS’s hand, it was deeply uncomfortable to watch precisely because of how familiar it was. This is an instinctive, almost animalistic response to touch, and it’s a FEAR response. Moreover, this isn’t some rando about to bump into him; this is one of his best friends from childhood. This is the reaction of someone who has survived by believing that the only possible safe space he has is within the confines of his own body; if anyone touches that, it will shatter. Wei Wuxian’s logical mind can tell him that NHS is not a threat, but his trauma-brain can’t turn off the panic simply by knowing that. (And why should he trust his logical mind, anyway? As we get glimpses of in the first few moments of the Burial Mounds, it’s as much the voices of people he knows and loves as the voices of unnamed resentful souls that prey on him during those three months. The psychological trauma in the Burial Mounds was not just the introduction of external threats, but the convoluting of things WWX knew and loved into instruments of torture so that even once he returned to the world, he could not shake those negative associations.)

We get an equal-but-opposite illustration of WWX’s trauma in instances like his reunion with JC and LWJ or his soup session with Yanli. There’s a deadness behind the eyes, an uncanny stillness. Wei Wuxian is in survival mode, going through the motions of what ‘should’ be his return to normal life but wondering why it doesn’t feel right this time. Wei Wuxian had told himself in the Burial Mounds that all he needed to do was survive the Burial Mounds themselves and then everything would be alright: he would go back to Lotus Pier, JC would be healed, and he would make up a new version of the plan that had been shot to hell (I’m convinced that WWX DID originally have a plan for how to navigate life in Lotus Pier post-golden core; however, he never got to put that plan into place because he got dumped into the Burial Mounds before he could enact it). But Wei Wuxian returns, and what he’s told himself isn’t true, because in all his planning for returning to Yunmeng he didn’t account for the fact that what it took to get there would fundamentally alter him. As a result, Wei Wuxian doesn’t fit anymore--not because the world has changed, but because Wei Wuxian has changed. And he can’t talk about that with anyone.

Why not? Sure, in part it’s because he feels bound to keep the secret about Jiang Cheng, but I think there’s another aspect here that’s been significantly overlooked: namely, that Wei Wuxian is the ONLY person to survive the Burial Mounds in any kind of living cultural memory. The problem isn’t so much that he can’t tell people as it is an issue of no one being able to understand or relate to his experiences even if he did share them. After all, how do you convey to an outsider what it was like to survive for three months in a place where every single bit of torture was customised to draw on YOUR individual, personal fears and hurts? Significantly, this is also the point in the story where we see Wei Wuxian begin to answer questions by in turn asking, ‘Would you believe me if I told you...?’ The question is rhetorical: he doesn’t expect people to believe him (although it still hurts when they don’t), but even if they do believe, it’s still not enough because they don’t understand. IMO, the rest of WWX’s issues leading up to the cliff at Nightless City stem from him trying--and failing--to come to terms with the loneliness of that knowledge.

Post-Resurrection

After WWX comes back, we see a shift in him. He’s no longer focused on the fact that no one will understand him; he’s decided that having someone (namely LWJ) believe him is enough. This resolves many of the auxiliary issues that had been plaguing WWX before his death, but it does NOT resolve the original trauma of his first experience in the Burial Mounds. WWX continues to have nightmares, and what are they about? Not Lotus Pier. Not Qiongqi Way and his sense of guilt. Not Shijie getting stabbed right in front of his face. Not his final, distraught moments with LWJ and JC. Nope, his nightmares continue to revolve around falling into the Burial Mounds all those years ago: an experience for which even death and rebirth are insufficient to ease the pain.

I’m convinced that even at the end of CQL Wei Wuxian still has a LOT of healing to do, and I think this healing is not something that can happen through Lan Zhan’s love alone. Thank goodness for fanfic and headcanons, eh?

**Gentle reader, this turned out to be more like 50 dollars than two cents. Thank you for reading to the end if you’re still with me!

TL;DR I believe Wei Wuxian’s turning point moment in the story is his dumping into the Burial Mounds. It’s easy to get swept up in how many terrible things happen to him AFTER that in the lead-up to Nightless City, but I genuinely think he could have endured the loss of his Jiang family, the censure of LWJ, and society turning against him if he had not been psychologically broken during his first three months there. The writers, directors, and Xiao Zhan give us a very raw, real version of what trauma looks like with their depiction of post-Burial Mounds WWX, and it is utterly harrowing.

#cql #xiao zhan #big angst vibes #the untamed #meta #wei wuxian #i've edited this too many times because i'm a perfectionist #but it's still a mess because i've picked up slang from each country i live in #also talking about my own feelings?#nope don't like that one bit #projecting hard #ptsd #mdzs

61 notes · View notes