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bitsandbobsandstuff · 3 years

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The Midnight Coconuts

Summary: Bucky and his girl take a trip to the grocery store. Several things are involved, including coconuts, a 25cent gum-ball machine, Avengers branded Jell-O, chocolate milk straight from the jug, and tampons. Characters: Bucky x Reader Words: 3k Warnings: Some swearing. Insane levels of fluff. Dangerously adorable Bucky. One (1) random reference to Not Another Teen Movie.

A/N: Listen, I will never be over silly domestic Bucky! I originally started this story before TFATWS came out and when I imagined Sam had a niece, so just go with it. Part of me wrote this, because I needed to convince myself that I love grocery shopping (one can only eat takeaway and Trader Joe’s Orange Chicken for so long) and the other part wrote this because I firmly believe domestic routines can be the most romantic adventures out there.

When the doors to the grocery store whoosh open with a gust of stale manufactured air, Bucky skids to an abrupt and dramatic stop.

“WAIT!”

Behind him, you stumble in panic, fumbling with an armful of reusable grocery bags. Instantly you’re imagining spilled blood and stab wounds and clean ups on aisle three and god dammit, how can there be a problem? This is a grocery store at midnight on a Wednesday. Shouldn’t the forces of evil be sleeping? Why is it so impossible to get a day off work? Don’t they know you need rest? And peanut butter? And that you’re dangerously low on toilet paper?

The forces of evil are the worst.

Raising weary fists, you huff.

“What? Where is it?”

Bucky sidesteps toward a row of small red and green machines beside the entrance, falling to his knees and smushing his nose eagerly against the glass. Reaching a hand behind him, there are several impatient grabby motions, before he glances back.

“Babe, can you give me a quarter? I need a gum-ball.”

Planting a sneaker clad foot on his ass, you shove. Hard.

“Bucky, we talked about this. Remember how you agreed to lower the drama and keep things in perspective? I thought we were under attack.”

“If I don’t get a green gum-ball,” he declares dramatically, “there will be an attack.”

Throwing the cloth bags at his face, you stomp off to retrieve a shopping cart, plunking your purse in the front and hunching over the handlebars.

“I thought you said you were a millionaire now. Buy your own gum-ball.”

Bucky rolls his eyes.

“Like I carry loose change,” he scoffs. “C’mon, just one quarter. Please?”

This time, he gives you the Look. That patented Bucky Barnes stare, with the wide eyes and full pouty lips and faux innocent expression, and if this man wasn’t the love of your life you’d quite happily stab him in the heart.

Instead, you open your purse and fish out a quarter, flinging it at his frustratingly pretty face. It bounces off his forehead and he scoops it up with a grin.

“So just to clarify. You came to the grocery store covered in knives, but you forgot to bring money?”

Giving you an indulgent smile, he jams the quarter into the slot. With a twist and shake, a gum-ball rattles free, and Bucky crows with delight when he sees the green candy. He pops it in his mouth.

“I didn’t forget. I made a conscious decision to remove the temptation. If I bring cash, I’ll spend it. You know I ain’t great with that whole self control thing.”

“How encouraging to hear, from the man with knives pouring out his ass.”

Jumping to his feet, he throws an arm around your shoulders.

“Ass knives sound painful.”

“Depends on how sharp they are,” you mumble, pulling a carefully folded sheet of paper from your jacket.

“Excuse you? My knives are always perfectly sharpened, thank you very much. What kind of expert assassin runs around with dull knives? Damn baby, it’s like you don’t even know me.”

Ignoring him, you flatten out the paper and smooth the edges, sighing happily at the block letters and structured diagrams drawn in deep blue ink.

Here it is, your masterpiece. A monument to productivity. The gold standard by which all optimization models should be benchmarked. This isn’t just any list, this is The List.

Everything is grouped, first by aisle, then by product location within the aisle, and then from top to bottom shelf order, to maximize efficiency. This is the dream list. The kind that inspires jealousy. The kind people hold up at TED talks when they talk about time management techniques. Marie Kondo wishes she had this list.

Bucky snorts when he sees the carefully printed boxes.

“God, you’re such a square,” he says adoringly. He plants a sugary wet kiss on your temple and you grind an elbow into his ribs.

“We discussed this, Bucky. Don’t mock my lists.”

“Sorry babe, I ain’t mocking. Your lists are beautiful, they always get me all hot and bothered,” he agrees, dipping lower to lick behind your ear. “And I really love that list you keep with all those dirty, filthy, sex things you wanna do to me.”

“I don’t have a list like that.”

“Yeah, I know,” Bucky sighs, “and I don’t know how many more hints I can drop here.”

Reaching under his shirt, you rub his belly consolingly. “Okay then. This weekend I’ll sit down and make you a special list. One so disgusting and dirty and depraved, it would make Wade Wilson cry.”

Bucky laughs and squeezes you tighter.

“About damn time honey. I’m equally parts terrified and horny. So where’re we headed first?”

“Produce,” you answer promptly, plowing forward, Bucky still chuckling beside you.

The whole scenario was ironic, actually. There was no need to grocery shop - automatic ordering mechanisms across the Avengers tower rendered the task meaningless - but sometimes it was a welcome relief to partake in such an ordinary thing. Unable to sleep after one particularly terrible mission, you found yourself wandering the aisles of your 24-hour supermarket, dressed in pineapple adorned pajama pants and one of Bucky’s rattier sweatshirts, searching for ice cream. The unexpected symmetry of products arranged along the shelves, the rainbow hued produce, the hint of baking bread wafting from the ovens, all those everyday trappings of normality, they washed over like a soothing balm. Soon enough, the boiling bad thoughts simmered to nothing more than a cache of blurry memories.

When you got home, sleep came fast, deep and dreamless.

One month later, the idea struck again.

After 36 hours of Bucky tossing and turning, dark shadows bruising beneath weary blue eyes, you took his hand and led him down the dark street for a midnight adventure. He was skeptical, disbelieving that something so simple could chase away the insomnia. But he dutifully followed you, strolling aimlessly through the aisles, throwing odds and ends into the cart.

The tension gradually eased, he began to relax, and suddenly?

He was hooked.

An hour later, after arguing the health benefits of frosted Cheerios over oatmeal, poking each hunk of cheese in the display, and loading the cart with every single flavor of spaghetti sauce on the shelf, the heavy weight of remembering began to ease. When he collapsed into bed, he slept for eight hours straight.

I don’t know what that was, he swore the next morning, munching through his third bowl of frosted Cheerios, but it was magic.

And with that, a midnight ritual was born. Sometimes you make the trek alone, sometimes Bucky does the same, but whenever life permits you go together. This small slice of domesticity brings a warm comfort to this strange life.

There is no doubt, this is your favorite area of the entire store.

Barrels filled with tart oranges and smooth red apples. Tables piled high with bananas, some just shy of yellow, others sunshine perfect, and a few with speckles of black (which are the best). Shelves lining the walls, overflowing with bundles of herbs and lettuce, all coated in a fine layer of mist.

Bliss.

Heading straight for the apples, you plunge into the Gala pile, rummaging until you come up with ten perfect ones. Peaches follow, fingers rubbing along the delicate pinky-orange fuzz. Squeeze, smell, squeeze, smell. Five are chosen for a pie (Sam pleaded shamelessly until you agreed to make him one), and in the cart they go. Heading toward the wall of herbs, you’re reaching for the basil when a metallic bang makes you jump. Spinning around, you find Bucky lobbing coconuts into the cart.

“We need these.”

“We really don’t, Buck. I hate coconut, it tastes like suntan lotion.”

“They’re not for eating,” he grabs an apple, wipes it on his shirt, and takes a juicy bite. “They’re for security.”

Sticky juice drips from his lip, catching in his beard. When you reach over to swipe it away, he nips your finger with a grin.

“Explain please.”

“See it’s like this. We’re just here shopping, doin’ our thang -”

“Don’t say thang.”

“- when someone attacks. What happens? BAM. One of these furry beauties breaks their face. Problem solved.”

Giving him a slow perusal, you raise an eyebrow.

“Were the 47 knives you’re carrying not enough to deflect this attack?”

Finishing off the apple in three sloppy bites, he carefully tucks the price sticker in his pocket so he can scan it before leaving and sets the mangled core beside your purse.

“Babe, these are my back-up plan. A good soldier always has a back-up plan.”

While you grab a bottle of extra-pulpy orange juice, Bucky picks two jugs of chocolate milk, snaps one open and takes a swing. Ever the thrifty shopper, he pulls a familiar bag from his back pocket, fishes out a crumpled piece of newspaper, and dangles it before you.

“Found a coupon for this,” he says gleefully. “Buy one, get one free. It’s called a BOGO. A BOGO. Hilarious, right? Fuck me, I love the future.”

Still laughing, he takes another long drink of chocolate milk and smacks his lips.

It was a lazy Sunday morning when you discovered this particular habit. Walking into the living room, you found Bucky buried in a sea of Sunday newspaper, tongue between his teeth and scissors in hand while he clipped coupons. He wasn’t picky, if it was remotely interesting, it went into the YES pile. It was one of those random things that brought him inordinate levels of joy, so of course you encouraged it. On his last birthday, you gifted him with a green zippered bag decorated with angry looking owls and official looking letters stitched across the front:

Bucky’s Coupon Bag Thriftn’ Machine Since 1917

He laughed for five straight minutes and then stuffed it full. The bag accompanies you on every trip and the sight of Bucky excitedly rifling through his wad of coupons still makes your heart swell.

Setting aside his BOGO, Bucky continues down the aisle, leaving you to pause in front of the yogurt. While you contemplate the merits of blackberry vs strawberry, Bucky slides over holding three cans of Reddi-Whip.

“Are you actually planning to eat that? I thought you said whipped air is for, and I quote, ‘spineless, tasteless trash heathens’?”

Bucky shakes the can of spray whipped cream and wiggles his eyebrows, leveling you with a sultry stare.

“Hell no I’m not eating it. This is for the bedroom. Last week I watched this god-awful movie where some blond guy - who looked exactly like Steve, by the way - made himself a whipped cream bikini for his girl. Decided I’m gonna do that for you. You’re welcome.”

“That sounds gross and unsanitary.”

“If by gross and unsanitary you mean spicy and sexy, then yes. Yes it does.”

Whistling what sounds like the theme music from a bad porn, he adds two tubs of honey swirled Greek yogurt, pats your butt, and strolls ahead, throwing a roughish wink over his shoulder. Imagining the melted whipped cream soaking into your bedsheets, you mentally add more laundry detergent to the list.

“Hang on, turn here.”

Tugging the cart behind him, Bucky stalks toward the feminine hygiene display. It takes him a minute to scan the products before squatting down to the bottom shelf. Grabbing two jumbo boxes of tampons, oddly enough the brand you prefer, he pops back to his feet.

“Dare I ask why you need these?”

A faint pink flush crawls up his neck.

“Well, you know, two reasons. They’re really great for stopping bloody noses, you know? Just poke ‘em up there and they soak it all up.”

He mimes the execution and adds a thumbs up.

“And the second reason?”

Squinting at his boots, he shuffles his feet a bit. The pink flush deepens.

“Um, you know - I know you’re out, since I stuck the last one up Steve’s nose last week, and yeah. Anyway. It’s about that time. Of the month. For you.”

Clearing his throat, he reaches for his chocolate milk, but you grab his wrist.

“You know when my period’s going to start?”

He shrugs self-consciously and fiddles with a loose thread on his shirt.

“Well yeah. You think it’s just a coincidence when all your favorite candy shows up every month?” Looking up, he shoots you a crooked smile and leans over the cart to kiss your forehead. Grabbing a fistful of his shirt, you haul him in for a real kiss instead and his startled laughter tickles your lips. When you break away, those bright blue eyes are shining.

“Thank you, Bucky,” you murmur.

“Anytime, sweetheart,” he whispers.

This is the aisle where the cart officially explodes.

Lasagna noodles.

Egg noodles.

Spaghetti noodles.

Penne.

Linguine.

Fettuccine.

Literally one of every noodle is selected, because Bucky Barnes is a self-proclaimed noodle slut.

As you organize the boxes and search for orzo, you see him furtively add an extra bag of elbow macaroni. A quiet cough hides your laughter.

The last time Sam’s four-year-old niece came to the tower, she and Bucky spent hours making glittery elbow macaroni necklaces, which they ceremoniously gifted to everyone. When Sam casually mentioned her enthusiastically telling everyone at pre-school about her friend Bucky and how much fun she had visiting him, Bucky ran to a craft store and bulk bought supplies of glue, string, paint, and glitter, just in case she comes over again.

Months later and the entire team are still finding puddles of glitter all over the tower, but the delight on Bucky’s face anytime someone mentions that arts and crafts afternoon?

It’s worth the mess.

Gathering up brown sugar, instant oats, and chocolate chips, you turn to drop them in the cart when Bucky makes a strangled noise. Glancing over, you find him bouncing on his toes, vibrating with excitement.

“Babe. Babe. Are you making monster cookies?”

Adding a can of raisins, you search for the good vanilla. The kind that actually tastes like vanilla, not a cheap car wash air freshener.

“I promised I would,” you remind him. Bucky plasters himself against your back, wrapping you in an enthusiastic hug and nuzzling his face against your neck.

“I love those fucking cookies,” he declares. “They’re my favorite thing ever. Next to you I mean.”

Finding the vanilla, you spin in his arms and return the squeeze.

“I know you do. But you have to share them this time, okay? You can’t just eat them all yourself like the last two times. Agree?”

“Agree…to disagree. They’re wasted on other people, no one else loves as much. It’s for the best when I eat them all, it’s proof how much I love you. I’m doing it for you. I’m supporting you. Because I love you.”

“You’re completely full of shit,” you reply.

“I swear I’m not! Just listen!”

The excuses grow longer and wilder as Bucky outlines his rationale against sharing, walking backward and dragging the cart with him as he pleads his case. He’s diving into the science of super soldier metabolism levels and caloric requirements and the fact that his sister never shared anything with him, when he bumps into a tall display.

He pulls up short, eyes narrowing. Plunking his fists on his hips, he growls a disgruntled sigh and glares at the rows of packaging.

“You’ve gotta be shitting me.”

Lined up in neat rows, you see boxes of Jell-O organized by color and flavor. On the cover of each are an assortment of familiar images.

“Are these Avengers themed Jell-O?” you ask, picking up a box with Sam’s image and the words Wild Berry Wilson. The rows extend further, filled with Lime Green Hulk and Blue Raspberry Rogers and Black Cherry Widow and Strawberry Lemon Stark. Exasperated, Bucky grabs the Sparkling Orange Spider flavor.

“Is this for real? The kid gets one and I didn’t? Someone in PR is getting fired.”

“Well there’re only so many flavors, Buck,” you point out practically, but Bucky’s not in the mood for logic. Instead, he swipes an entire shelf of Jell-O flavors into the cart.

“I swear to god, I have to do everything around here. Fine then. I’ll make my own flavor, Blackberry Kiwi Soldier or Winter Watermelon Rainbow, or something.” He pauses thoughtfully. “Anyway, I’ll work on the name. But I’m bringing it to dinner tomorrow night and everyone is gonna eat it.”

He dumps in a bag of mini-marshmallows and grabs sprinkles for topping, before marching down the aisle. Cringing at the volume of sugar in the cart, you make another mental note to schedule a dentist appointment.

“Go do your manly duty and find the meat. We need two 5lb rump roasts.”

“I like your rump roast,” he instantly responds and reaches over to smack your butt again. Anticipating the move, you catch his arm and twist it behind his back. He barks out a breathless laugh and you slap his ass in return.

“Your innuendos are tragic.”

Releasing him with a gentle shove, Bucky snatches up his three coconuts and ambles away, laughing while he juggles them. When he returns, he has the requested rump roasts, several packages of bacon, and a bundle of cocktail shrimp.

“If my innuendos get better, then can I touch your butt?”

“Maybe. But they better be real good.”

An added benefit to shopping at midnight? Not a soul in line.

Loading everything onto the conveyer belt, you automatically organize for bagging. Boxes together, produce together, meat together. Bucky adds a pack of batteries, a tin of mints, and some trashy magazines.

The last three items in the cart are his coconuts. They rattle around until you toss them at him, motioning back to the produce department.

“We made it out alive. Go put them back.”

Still chomping his tasteless green gum-ball, he shakes his head and plops them down.

“Nah, I have another idea for them. Got all those craft supplies at home, I’m gonna make you something.”

“Should I even ask?”

Bucky blows a huge, wet bubble and looks you up and down.

“Have you every worn one of those coconut bras? Like on TV, with the ladies in grass skirts? I’m gonna make you one. I already have string and glue. And glitter.”

“I think you may be overestimating your crafting abilities.” Digging out your credit card, you wait for the final tally.

“Well, if it’s terrible then you’ll just be naked. Either way, I win.”

Shaking out your grocery sacks, he packs everything with Tetris-like efficiency and slides all of them up the vibranium arm.

“How about I make you a deal. I’ll wear a coconut bra, if you’ll make yourself something to wear as well.”

Bucky blows another sugary bubble, pondering the idea.

“Like a coconut man thong?”

“Exactly like a coconut man thong.”

“Deal. Add it to that special dirty list you’re making me honey. We got loads to do.”

Outside, the night air smells sweet and cool, the barest hint of a spring rain and fresh grass lingering on the breeze. Already, your eyes are feeling heavy, tonight’s quiet adventure ushering in that sought after peace.

In your right hand, the three coconuts swing gently in their plastic sack. Humming under his breath, Bucky yawns, reaching for your other hand. His warm, calloused palm squeezes tight, his thumb stroking lightly over your skin.

He turns to you with a sleepy, lopsided smile.

Midnight and coconuts.

It always does the trick.

***

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky fic #bucky imagine #bucky barnes imagine

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oliviayamaoka · 3 years

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The Distraction (Danny Johnson / Jed Olsen / Ghostface x Reader)

Y/N encounters Ghostface, a snarky and creepy silent killer. However, he isn’t as silent as he is made out to be when you hit him with your toolbox in defense. To stall time for your survival and the progression of other generators, you decide to humor him and distract him for a long amount of time for the others.

Possible Warning: Sexual tension, slight blood, slight violence, and Danny having perverted thoughts (up to your interpretation on what he’s thinking)

You slowly vaulted over a wooden structure within Autohaven Wreckers. The green atmosphere felt very chilling and eerie, you didn’t like doing your trials in this realm. Your eyes averted to an untouched generator. Thank the Entity you didn’t hear a chainsaw revving or the menacing lullaby sung by the Huntress. Y/N kneeled down and began to work on the generator, putting their toolbox to the side. Who knew you’d become a mechanic of some sort within the Fog.

“Shit.” You mumble as you cut your arm slightly on something within it. For a moment you had considered using your toolbox but it was better to just save it for another time.

Y/N sighed and pulled down a lever before reattaching some wires. The generators always confused you. Not in a way where you didn’t know how to fix them but how the hell did they power up the exit gates? Oh well, it didn’t matter at that point. You were forced to do this by a literal god.

You suddenly gasped when you felt a firm grip pry you away from your generator. It must’ve been the killer. Y/N aggressively fought back and wiggled with desperate grunts and yells. You somehow managed to escape his grip, how the hell didn’t you hear him? You shoved him away but he grabbed your wrist tightly.

“Let go!” You yelled, hitting him as hard as you could since he seemed to have dropped his knife. You recognized the killer as Ghostface. He didn’t seem to think that you’d be able to get away the first time. Y/N’s eyes widened in shock and curiosity when she heard him darkly chuckle in amusement

“You’re like that bastard King.” He said to you as you both struggled. David was always verbal when ”fighting” the killers. He grunted as you kicked at his thigh, desperately trying to rip your arm away from him.

“Since when did you start talking?” You asked him, humoring him in pure panic. Ghostface was a bit thrown off that you even responded instead of screaming at the top of your lungs. In fact, he doesn’t recall anybody saying anything back to him other than David King or Yui Kimura saying something snarky after a successful vault.

“You’d be surprised--agh!” He grunted as you smashed your toolbox into his face as hard as you could. This definitely threw him off since it hurt just as much as the pallet stuns did. Was that even allowed? He adjusted his mask to keep it from falling off. His chin sure as hell hurt.

“Sorry.” Y/N said to him almost immediately, stopping for a moment. You weren’t sure why you felt sorry for the bastard in that moment. You once did something similar with the Trapper when he accidentally stepped in his own trap, there was a moment of silence between the two of you as you both stared.

“What do you mean sorry?!” He asked you angrily but he didn’t lunge or hit you. He seemed just as confused and caught up in the moment as you. You threw your arms up in defense, it was a psychological thing.

“It was instinctual! What was I supposed to do, let you stab and hook me?” You said to him as he stood up. Ghostface was much taller up close, it was strange.

“Well, yeah. You’re only supposed to fucken wiggle or try get off of the hook. It said those were the rules.” He argued as you turned your head to the side in disbelief at his behavior.

“Since when did you start abiding by the rules? Aren’t you supposed to be a serial killer or something?” Y/N questioned him.

“Uhhh, since that thing started torturing the other people who got trapped here. You think I wanna look like that fuckface with the chainsaw?” He said aggressively but you didn’t seem to back down at all. He was referring to the Hillbilly.

“He already looked like that, dumbass.” You say to him as he paused.

“Oh.” Ghostface responded before shaking his head to knock some sense into himself and began to try grab your wrist again. he tugged you closer when he did rather aggressively.

“What the fuck am I doing arguing with my prey.” He muttered as you pulled away again, taking a few steps back.

Ghostface, from your observation, was easily confused when talking to people. You figured it was normal since, well, when the hell did a psycho like him have time to talk to people? You recalled a conversation with Ace when you were upset due to one of your first trials. He had been previously married and referred to himself as a ladykiller, humoring the idea of trying to flirt with the Huntress. He was a wise dude despite being on the run from guys he owed money to, overall he made a good replacement father figure for a moment.

Clearly it was a bad idea but maybe instead of getting hooked or hurt, you could do what Ace jokingly suggested. It’d also be a funny story to tell some of your friends when this trial was over but it was scary thinking this could make him even more mad or aggressive. Oh, well, anything not to go through the pain again.

“Has anybody ever told you you’re handsome?” You asked, cringing at yourself for such a poor choice of wording.

“You don’t even know how I look.” He said, somewhat annoyed but loosened his grip slightly as you put your hand softly over his.

“That doesn’t matter. I feel like we could get to know eachother. I’m Y/N, by the way.” You say to him as he stopped completely, baffled even.

“What?” He asked in confusion.

“Think about it, if we have a nice little chat then I’m sure the Entity wouldn’t mind. And don’t get me wrong, I’ve been curious about your artwork. Or I guess you can say photography. I’m sure you have a collection.” You said.

“Right, like a puny thing like you would even understand what I do.” Ghostface said to you, crossing his arms. Admittedly, he seemed to slowly forget his objective when he began to even talk to you. Even he didn’t know why he kept responding to you.

“A puny thing like me? Oh, please. I’ve seen my fair share of blood and gore on the internet. I bet your photos wouldn’t even make me budge.” Y/N said.

“Really, now? I have a collection of photos of you and your little friends.” He said, getting rather defensive. Such a fragile ego, you thought.

“Oh, so you take photos of me?” You asked, pulling him closer. He seemed to freeze up when he was inches away from your face. Despite wearing the mask, he felt vulnerable. Why? You were just a survivor meant to be slaughtered.

“I don’t mean it like that.” He said firmly, although, it wouldn’t be a bad idea since you were rather attractive to him. Both physically and personality-wise. The thought amused him but he shook his head slightly.

“Shame. I could’ve offered you a special photoshoot.” Y/N said, enjoying getting into character at this point since all the generators should be done soon.

“A what?” He said, finally flustered. You couldn’t blame him. A survivor was practically seducing him. A part of him wanted to give in since he already wasted so much time just talking to you. There were, of course, other needs he needed satisfied. The idea of him showing no mercy on you got him hot and bothered.

“A special photoshoot. Just me and you, uhh... Ghostface?” You said to him, resting your eyes.

“It’s Danny--I mean, Jed.” He said to you. You raised your eyebrows in surprise that he even told you his name, you could even swear your cheeks warmed up for a second. No. no, you thought. Do not get distracted.

“Jed, huh? Sounds easy to yell.” You responded with a smirk.

At this point, Ghostface decided he definitely wanted you. He quickly gave into his desire since he had his own desires and fantasies he wanted to put at ease. Plus, a survivor like you giving yourself to him? It sounded too good to be true in his own dirty, messed up standards. He silently smirked behind his mask. Hooking and killing wasn’t the only way he wanted to hurt you now. He saw this as a way to properly get back at you for hitting him with your toolbox.

What did you get yourself into, he thought menacingly. Unbeknownst to him, you were already one step ahead of him. Ghostface wrapped his hands around your waist and brought you closer to him. Y/N froze for a moment but brushed her knee against his upper thigh in a rather suggestive manner. She didn’t think it would work yet it did.

“So, when do you want to do this, baby?” He asked you in a lower tone. You felt your cheeks flush and your heartrate beginning to increase but you had to stand your ground for a few more seconds. You looked away for a moment with an unimpressed stare.

“You’re such a gentlemen.” You said sarcastically, pushing away from him by his chest. The feeling of his leather and fabric was firm, you kinda liked that.

“Now what?” He asked in frustration. Your eyes averted towards the tools spread out on the ground from the box. Y/N came up with an idea.

“Pick my stuff up for me and maybe we can do something... quick.” You said, tugging your shirt downwards suggestively.

“Okay, okay. Fine.” Ghostface responded to you sarcastically.

He turned to look at the tools on the ground. Kneeling down, he set the toolbox upright and began to put the tools back. Ghostface found it interesting how such small tools can play a big part in fixing the generators faster. He’d be pissed off if some random fucker like the Clown came and busted it up after long, hard work. You watched him actually do as you asked. It was somewhat heartwarming. No, actually, it wasn’t. You didn’t wanna catch feelings for him.

Y/N looked around, inhaling quietly. He seemed focused on picking up the smaller tools. You weren’t sure when to make your move. Suddenly, a horn blasted. A feeling of relief washed through your body. His head popped up as you quickly sprinted away from him. Ghostface whipped his head around.

“Shit, fuck...!” He muttered. It was at this point where he realized what you did. He felt angry at himself for giving into his urges instead of just hooking you and killing you and your little friends. Ghostface smashed your toolbox against the generator in anger.

Standing up, he put his knife away. Despite being furious, he still found you attractive and confident for even trying that with him. It fueled a different urge within him. Oh, he would definitely make you pay. Not from the hooks, of course. He smirked at the idea of it and began to walk off to the other door once he began to calm down.

Y/N, he thought.

#ghostface #ghostface x reader #danny johnson #jed olsen #jed olsen x reader #danny johnson x reader #dead by daylight fanfic #dead by daylight #dead by daylight x reader #dbd x reader

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dancingazaleas · 3 years

Text

jean kirstein | primrose

i love him so much

y’all can’t see it but i am crying

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MY BEAUTIFUL HIMBO

note: this is unedited

warnings/notes: artist!jean, college au!, gardener!reader, cursing, jean’s in love, nsfw, smut, praise, fingering, soft sex, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, squirting, flower language.

jean wouldn’t say he was popular by any means.

everyone knew of him, but it’s not like they actively tried to befriend him or get to know him. he only really talked to the people in his friend group, and even then it was quite spread out. meaning, there were friend groups inside the friend group. jean doesn’t necessarily understand, but he’ll take what he can get.

jean mostly stayed alone on campus, none of his friends were artists. sasha was in a florist course—or something, jean never hears her speak about it—marco was majoring in nursing along with psychology, and connie was... well... connie? jean knew that connie had classes, but he didn’t even know what they were along with his major.

this meant that jean had no friends in his art classes. he wasn’t upset about it though, he always preferred to keep in his bubble. it only really got annoying whenever the professors would give them group projects.

jean’s sighing while he checks his phone, a text message from sasha that says she’s at the campus’s greenhouse finishing up an assignment. jean and sasha usually hang out until three together, waiting for connie and marco to get out of their own classes.

he grunts as he sets off to the greenhouse, not looking forward to the humidity that awaits him outside of the building. the professor made them work in the sprinkling rain?

jean pulls out an umbrella whenever he gets outside. shivering at the almost dramatic temperature drop whenever he steps outside. he trudges through the soggy grass, ignoring the squelching of his shoes and the water.

“where are you,” he asks whenever he steps inside of the greenhouse, closing his umbrella and inhaling the different smells.

the greenhouse is empty besides one person, sitting on their knees as they fill a hole with soil gently.

“huh? did you need something,” you ask as you pull your gaze away from the plant, eyebrows furrowed.

jean feels his face flush, “oh! i’m sorry... my friend said she was here but you’re the only one who’s here.”

you blink and stare, which makes jean sweat. you light up with realization, “you’re talking about sasha right? if so, she’s here still, just needed to use the bathroom in the next building over.”

he utters a thanks while you get back to your work, awkwardly loitering by the door as a way to wait for his friend.

“wh-what’s your name,” he stutters to you, cringing at how his voice echoes against the glass of the building.

“i’m (name) (last name). you?”

“j..jean kirstein. nice to meet you,” he nods with a gulp.

“not to be offensive, and even if i say that, it might be, but you don’t exactly look like a horticultural major. what are you majoring in,” you’ve not looked up from the plant you’re caring for.

“i’m an art major,” he spits out.

you pause your movements and look up to the window for a moment, relaxed smile on your face.

“funny,” you shrug and go back to your task, “i don’t think i’ve ever painted before.”

he relaxes his tense shoulders, shock written all over his pretty face, “you’ve never painted?!”

“nope.”

“what about when you were a kid?”

“no, my parents didn’t approve of messes along with anything that wasn’t proven to meet their standards,” your bottom lip juts out from concentration.

“i see,” he hums, but he really doesn’t. his mother’s always been so supportive of him and whatever he’s chose to do with his life, and still he treated her horribly when he was younger.

“what’s this project even about,” he asks, walking closer to observe your craft.

“sasha and i have to try and grow strawberries on their own... it may not seem too difficult, but strawberries are an absolute pain to maintain care for,” you sigh with disappointment, “but i’m not working on that for right now, i’m just planting for now.”

“what are you planting?” jean’s sure that you’re becoming annoyed with him and all of the questions he’s asking.

you smile a bit, “lilac.”

jean can’t see exactly how that makes you happy or flustered, but considering you’re the expert and he isn’t, he’s not gonna ask. he goes to open his mouth once more, but the greenhouse door creaking open interrupts him.

“sorry jean! there was this long line in the girl’s bathroom,” sasha blurts as she shuffles into the room and shakes the rain off of her shoes.

“it’s fine, don’t worry,” he holds up a hand snd shakes his head.

“oh! (name), you’re still here,” she asks whenever she steps closer.

“yea, just felt like gardening,” you place the pot down gently and look up to her from your place on the floor.

“what’re you plantin’?”

“lilac,” jean answers for her and is once again struck by confusion whenever sasha’s cheeks light up as a smile stretches across her face.

he looks back to you to find you glaring at sasha with a secret knowledge.

“what? what’s so weird about it,” he asks, looking between you two.

“nothing nothing, jeanie boy! c’mon, i want a burger,” she giggles as she waves her hand up and down, turning around to go out of the door.

“didn’t niccolo feed you earlier,” he scoffs, following behind.

“yeah! he made me lobster. anyways, bye (name)!” she grins as she opens the door after taking jean’s umbrella.

jean fusses over her lack of care as he snatches his umbrella back from her and puts it over the both of them. briefly, his mind wonders back to you.

————

next time jean sees you, you’re looking quite frustrated and upset as you shovel dirt into a an empty pot. sasha is, once again, going to the bathroom in the building over.

“are you alright,” he’s hesitant.

you jump up, not even noticing him once he’d walked in. you relax while you sigh, eyebrows bunching up in frustration.

“i’m okay,” it seems you’re telling yourself this more than you tell jean, “my parents are just being upsetting.”

jean gets a text from sasha, telling him that she’s going to go to the bathroom in the main building since the line was too long. he doesn’t care for some reason, instead taking a seat beside you on the ground.

“wanna talk about it,” he asks, his body warm next to your’s.

you sigh for the umpteenth time, “we’ve only met once and i’d feel as if i would be dumping this onto you.”

“i don’t mind. if you don’t want to speak about it, i won’t force you,” he shrugs.

“well,” you start with reluctance, “my family’s always been judgmental of how i should be allowed to spend my time. not only that, but careers, interests, and friends.”

“and i assume they’ve said something about your major,” he assumes, slightly sad as you nod.

“bingo. they don’t think it’s sophisticated enough for me, but i’m not too sophisticated myself. i’m barely an adult, i’ve just turned 19. why they won’t let me be a kid is beyond me,” you gently lay the seed into the soil of the pot.

“i’ve never had this issue, so i can’t say that i completely understand or that what i say will help. however, good parents shouldn’t treat their child like that. you’re your own person, they shouldn’t be trying to limit you and your experiences. it’s not fair to you,” he says, “you’re parents are ignorant.”

you stifle a laugh, “thank you, jean. i appreciate it, genuinely.”

his cheeks flush as he nods, telling you that it was just something a friend would do for another.

“what’s your instagram,” you ask, swiftly pulling your phone from your pocket and pulling up the app.

he tells you nervously, three dings emitting from his phone in his pocket. one follow, one like, and one message.

jean finds himself texting you at nine pm.

————

jean finds himself giddy a few months later. he’s talked to you nonstop ever since he’s gotten your instagram, easily falling for you as he learns more about you.

he’s teaching you how to paint today. or, not really teach, but just helping you get started.

he sits on his couch while he waits, opting to watch some k-drama that connie recommend to him. he tells you that you can just walk in since the door’s unlocked, but jean has a feeling you would’ve just walked in anyways.

he hugs you excitedly whenever you walk in, leading you over to one of the easel and canvases he’s set up for you. he looks at your outfit.

“you’re wearing that?” he asks, not really thinking before he speaks.

“yea...? gotta problem with it,” you’re immediately defensive, and it has jean bouncing back with realization.

“oh my god, i meant you’re wearing that to paint? you’re outfit looks good on you! it’s cute! n-not to say that you’re cute or anything! er—i don’t mean that you’re not cute!” jean flushes, “i am... going to stop talking..”

you giggle at him, “it’s okay jean, i know what you mean.”

“o-okay,” he relaxes, “do you need to borrow any clothes? i don’t want your shirt to get dirtied.”

“just a shirt, your pants wouldn’t fit me,” you ask while you untuck your loose white button up from your jeans.

he scurries off to find you a shirt, slapping himself on the forehead in embarrassment. he grabs you a light grey shirt with paint splotches scattered on it, which he’s once painted a mural in.

he turns his back to you whenever he gives you the shirt, instead focusing on the collection of painting supplies he’s set out on his work tray. he’s chosen acrylics for you, claiming that they’re the easiest to do if you’re a beginner. you have a feeling that he’s lying, especially since he’s an art major.

“are we painting anything specific,” you ask and sit down on the stool provided for you.

“actually, i was thinking of letting you choose. maybe some flowers or plants since they help you relax,” he contemplates aloud, hand pressed to his chin.

“let’s paint a sunflower,” you say reluctantly, “they should be easy enough to paint.”

he nods, starting put small spurts of paint onto his pallet. you mimic his actions, carefully stroking the canvas with your paintbrush.

“relax your shoulders,” he suggests, noticing just how stiff you are, “if you’re too stiff then the painting will be too. this is about relaxing.”

“i just don’t want to make any mistakes.”

“hey, like bob ross always says; there are no mistakes, just happy accidents,” jean gives a lazy smile as he continues to paint.

you laugh at him, finally relaxing your body and brushing the brush across the canvas. you both chat absentmindedly as you paint, finding comfort in one another’s voice and movements. you’re both playing 20 questions, if you can call a conversation that.

“the most embarrassing thing... probably walking in on my friends having sex,” he briefly remembers his friend, bertholdt, on top of reiner, “it’s how they came out to me.”

you cackle, “oh my god!! they must’ve been mortified!!”

“they were, i felt so bad for walking in on them. now, it’s a funny joke since they’re both out to everyone,” he snickers, “now, where’s your favorite place on earth that you’ve been to?”

“a amusement park over in marley. snuck off with my first ever boyfriend there,” you stroke your brush once more, “or maybe the swimming pool in my parents house. anywhere that i can feel weightless.”

he hums in acknowledgment, “mine’s out in the forest probably. i like it quiet.”

“quiet is always nice. so, jean, have you ever had a girlfriend,” you laugh at jean’s face scrunch up from a childish question.

“yeah, i’ve had one. it went really well at first but it turns out that she likes girls. it hurt at first, cause i loved her, but i got over it. i’ve got no hard feelings against her, she can’t help liking girls. her and i are just really close friends now,” he has a fond smile on his face as he thinks of mikasa.

“i’m glad the two of you are still friends, and i’m sure that she appreciates your kindness to her,” you reciprocate a smile.

“me too. anyways, since you want to dive into my love life, let’s dive into your’s. have you ever been in love?”

you face heats up while you pause your movements, “y-yeah. not until recently though.”

jean’s eyes widen as his own cheeks flush a bright red, and for once he prays.

he prays that it’s him you’re in love with.

————

a month later and you still have the painting of a sunflower that jean did. it makes you embarrassed every time you look at it, even though jean didn’t know the meaning behind the flower.

you sit on the floor of the greenhouse, ignoring how the rain thumps gently on the glass roof. jean’s sitting beside you, leaning all of his weight on your body, which makes you laugh.

“you never told me what you’re planting,” he points out while adding more of his weight onto you.

you laugh while you shove him off of you, “i can’t with you on me like that.”

“well, now i’m not on you so,” he grins cockily, and you want to smack it off of him.

“okay, okay! i’m planting a primrose,” you say while you gently plant a seed into the soil.

“what’s the occasion?”

“what do you mean,” you raise a questioning eyebrow.

“my dad always got my mom those flowers on valentine’s day or for their anniversary. now, my mom puts them on his grave. it means ‘i can’t live without you’ or symbolizes young love,” he explains, “who’re they for?”

embarrassment hits you like truck. you were planting these for jean. whenever they were blooming, you were going to give them to him. thank god you didn’t.

you laugh nervously, “no one! i just felt like planting them! they’re pretty flowers.”

“whatever you say,” jean shrugs, heart tingling with pain.

whenever the flowers had bloomed, you stood at jean’s doorstep with the pot in your hands. your cheeks were hot as you stared at your feet, hoping to god that jean felt the same way towards you.

when jean opens his door, he doesn’t expect to see you holding the potted plant. you’d told him that it wasn’t for anyone and it wasn’t for him, so why’d you have it. did you want him to take care of it or something?

“for you,” you stumble over your words a bit while you thrust the pot against his chest.

it’s his turn to be embarrassed, these are for him! the flower is so pretty, full bloom and showing itself off towards the sun. jean hurries to place the pot on his living room coffee table, then he pounces.

his arms wrap around you and hold you close, his face is emitting a heat when he pulls away to look at you.

“me too,” you look at him confused, “i love you too.”

you feel like crying, for some reason this means the absolute world to you. you wrap your arms around his neck, not able to hold back the tears forming in your eyes.

“why didn’t you tell me sooner,” he laughs while squeezing you tight.

“i did,” your laughter is muffled until he pulls away.

“when?”

“since we met. granted, i didn’t expect to meet you that day. lilac means the start of a new love. and then i told you again when you painted the sunflower again. sunflowers mean pure love,” you wipe away tears as jean pulls you inside his house by your hand.

“i’m such an idiot,” he smacks a palm to his forehead, “that’s what you and sasha were laughing about when we met, wasn’t it?”

“yea,” you watch him lead you to his bedroom, somewhere that you’ve been to on many occasions.

he crawls into bed beside you, pulling you closer to him—if it were even possible. he’s littering your face with soft kisses that tickle your skin and make you giggle.

“what are you doing?!”

“i’ve been wanting to do this since i’ve met you, give me a break,” he mumbles against your skin, lips finally making contact with your’s.

the kiss is sweet like candy, and you almost can’t take it. you deepen the kiss without hesitation, surprising jean, who obviously reciprocates. you whimper against jean’s mouth whenever you grant him access to explore your own.

he pulls away, a shy look in his eyes that tells you exactly what he’s thinking.

“yes, jean. as long as you’re gentle,” you put a hand on top his cheek, stroking it gently.

he smiles before asking his next question shyly, “could we... do a different position? one that isn’t missionary.”

“jean, i’ve only had sex a few times. all were in missionary and were hookups. as long as it’s with you, i don’t mind what we do,” you reassure, scooting closer to him.

he’s surprised that his face doesn’t burst into flames, at this point.

“okay... could you... turn around,” your face twists into confusion, “you’ll find out.”

it sounds ominous, but since it’s jean, you don’t mind. you turn your back to him, shivering whenever his lips kiss at the nape of your neck. his chest presses against your back and he slips one of his arms under the arm against the bed.

his lips bite on your neck while his hands sliver their way up to your boobs. you sit up for a moment, pulling the loose shirt you were wearing off of your body. you shimmy your pants off while you’re at it, easily flopping back into jean’s arms.

god, he’s so close to fainting just from seeing you without clothes. especially when he realizes that you’re not wearing a bra.

his hands grope at your chest, rolling your nipples through his nimble fingers. you whimper shyly, hand coming up to grab at his own.

“cute,” he smiles whenever you look over your shoulder, the same hand drifting from your tit to the waistline of your panties.

his hand reaches inside your hand plain underwear as you willingly spread your legs open, something you’re secretly embarrassed about, but you decide to ignore it anyways. with hesitance, his fingertip comes in contact with your clit. you flinch at the contact and let out a gasp, once again squeezing at his hand.

“spread your legs wider for me, love,” he murmurs in your ear, nudging his wrist against your thigh.

you oblige silently, hooking your foot around the back of jean’s knee.

“good girl,” he smiles, two fingers gently pressing against your clit after he’s wet them with his spit.

you moan out whenever jean starts rubbing lazy circles into your clit and his other hand gropes at your tit. your hips buck forward on instinct, which has you biting your lip from embarrassment.

“can you try to keep your hips still for me,” he kisses at your earlobe, stubble scratching against your neck.

you nod to him, even if you both know that you won’t uphold that promise.

whenever his fingers move up a speed, so does the volume of your moans.

“jean,” you whimper, “i’m gonna cum.”

“it’s okay, you’ve been so good for me, my pretty girl. go ahead and cum,” he smiles against your skin, once again speeding up his tempo.

your nails are biting into his wrist as your hips start to buck almost uncontrollably. your head is thrown back while you open your mouth in a silent scream and your eyes roll back. jean slows his pace, helping you ride out your orgasm.

his smile stretches wider when he holds his fingers up to the light, admiring how the digits glistened in against the early morning sun peeking through the curtains. he also manages to take off your panties.

he puts the two fingers in your mouth once he’s done admiring them, cooing praises in your ear. a string of salvia is connect to his fingertips whenever he pulls them out of your mouth, making you whine in embarrassment. he chuckles and reaches his warm hand back down to your wet cunt.

you gasp at the coldness of your spit coming into contact with your heated entrance. his fingers enter you slowly and cautiously and it takes your breath away.

“you’re so tight,” still smiling, “when’s the last time you’ve gotten laid, pretty girl?”

“f-fuck... maybe like... six months ago,” you pant like a dog in heat.

“it’s good thing you’ve got me now, huh? gonna take care of you now.”

you’re squeezing your pretty eyes closed while you adjust to the feeling of two fingers inside of you. jean feels himself memorizes the look on your face in his brain whenever he gives a shallow thrust with his fingers. you wiggle your hips a bit, whining out for jean to give you more.

he does exactly that.

he starts to finger you slowly, eventually speeding up the speed as you get more and more used to the feeling. his fingers curl against your sweet spot that has you bucking your hips once again.

“there! there,” you buck again when he continues to brush over it.

angling his fingers just right, he starts to thrust and curl his fingers inside of you at the perfect speed.

“fuck! fuck! fuck!” you gasp whenever your toes start to curl.

“are you gonna cum again? it’s okay. go ahead and cum on my fingers, pretty girl,” he reassures while pecking at your neck lazily.

you come once again after a few seconds pass, legs shaking when jean doesn’t slow down his speed.

“can’t...! i can’t cum again,” you whimper while arching your back against jeans torso.

“i know you can,” he whispers, “gotta prepare you for my cock, remember?”

his filthy words make you mewl as you feel yourself already approaching another orgasm quickly. you scream whenever you orgasm again, hips jerking back and forth wildly as his other hand starts rubbing on your puffy little clit.

you’re crying from the intensity. you’re sure that if you’d be able to take all of this if you had fucked anyone these past six months.

instead of slowing down, jean actually speeds up his movements again. you know that you’re mascara might be smearing, you can’t remember if it’s waterproof, tear proof—what the fuck ever.

your legs convulse when jean manages to work you up to another mind blowing orgasm. but this time, you squirt all over jean’s hand and the insides of your plump thighs.

“there we go,” he praises, “that’s what i needed.”

he’s finally slowing his fingers down, and you wonder if they’re aching at the moment.

“thank you, thank you, thank you,” you babble as your nails scratch at his wrist.

“such a sweet girl, thanking me when i haven’t even trained you.”

your chest is heaving up and down while jean pulls his cock out of his pants, a moment’s rest.

you gulp whenever you see his dick. you didn’t believe sasha’s jokes whenever she said jean not only had a horse face but also a horse cock. how she knew, you didn’t ask, but either way she was right. you’d have to apologize to sasha for not heeding her warnings after this.

“don’t be scared, love. i’ll take care of you,” he comforts you while pulling your leg up a bit.

his fingers squeeze at the soft flesh that’s the back of your thigh, instructing you on how to insert himself in your tight little pussy.

after guiding jean’s cock in you, you sob out from just how much he fills you up already. you don’t take a pause, too eager to feel jean inside of you.

noticing this, jean hooks his arm around your thigh and grabs your hand. the angle has his hitting spots that he hadn’t before, pussy fluttering around his cock in effect.

“be patient,” he demands in a soft tone, his hand guiding your own, “i don’t want to hurt you.”

“don’t care, need you so bad,” you sniffle and wiggle your hips once more, ignoring the slight burn.

sighing, jean carefully thrusts the rest of his cock inside of you. you sob out in both pleasure and pain, hand now going back to scratching at his wrist.

“i told you, sweet girl,” you look at him from over your shoulder, “you gotta listen to me.”

“‘m sorry,” you whimper while jean kisses away a tear.

“t’s okay, now just wait until your comfortable,” he advises, unhooking his arm from your thigh and holding it with his hand.

it takes a minute or two, but jean is nothing but attentive during this. thumb stroking your thigh, lips kissing your neck and cheek, whispering quietly in your ear that you’re doing so well.

when you’re ready, he thrusts into you softly. he doesn’t want to hurt you, even when his dick hurts from not cumming. after seeing you’re alright with it, he thrusts more vigorously. with your skin slapping against one another’s tenderly and tits bouncing jean is groaning in your ear.

the hand not holding your thigh holds onto your boob, pinching your nipple and then rolling it in between his fingers again. the kisses he’s pressing against your shoulder feels so hot and sweet against your sweaty skin.

your whines and moans are so cute, begging for jean to cum at the same time you do and for him to come inside.

“you want my cum in you,” he pants, “anything you want since you’ve asked so nicely.”

he speeds his hips up just a bit, guttural groans coming from his throat as your pussy grips him like a vise.

“gonna cum, gonna cum,” you’re mewling almost makes jean black out.

“i’m right behind you, go ahead, love,” his eyebrows bunch together as he nears his orgasm.

after two more thrusts, the both of you are coming. jean’s groans are surprisingly starting to turn into soft moans, which is something you’ll try to get out of him another time.

after you both come down from your high, jean’s pulling his softening dick out of you. he lays on his backside, pulling your weak body on top of his chest with ease.

“love you,” he smiles and gives you a kiss.

“primrose love,” you smile goofily at him.

“primrose love.”

#attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #snk #aot fanfiction #snk fanfiction #aot jean #snk jean #jean aot #jean kirschstein #jean kirstein x you #jean kirstein x reader #jean kirstein #jean smut #aot fluff #aot smut

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mxtantrights · 3 years

Text

past lives | 3

a/n: Ok this is like the pre-climax? is that a thing? no well I'm gonna make it a thing right now! time to meet more of the family!! enjoyyy <3

Fallon nudged your shoulder to get your attention. Previously your focus was on the champagne flute, and before that the odd waiter who served it to you with an old scar straight through his mouth.

“I brought you here to snatch and grab stuff, where’s the team spirit?” they ask.

You make a face, “You brought me here because you didn't wanna go alone. And I can’t blame you if I had to come here alone I would-”

“Definitely throw myself off the balcony. Running start.” a voice adds.

It was neither yours or Fallons. So the two of you turn around and find the culprit. And just like destiny or fate or something, you see the guy you handed off a letter from your dead parent a few days prior.

“I mean isn’t it kind of your party?” you ask.

Tim shrugs a bit and sips the drink in his hand. It’s a non verbal answer that gives something away. Maybe it’s in the

“If you think that, then think about me. I’m the plus one.” you say.

He chuckles, “It’s nice to see you again.”

“Same”

“Again?” Fallon asks.

You nod your head, “I had to drop something off at the Wayne building not too long ago. To Mr.Drake actually.”

“Oh it’s just Tim.” he says and holds out his hand.

You quickly take it and shake as instructed. Then Fallon follows the action, along with an introduction. Tim smiles and it looks like a genuine one.

“Well when I said we were gonna smooze I didn’t know you pre-planned.” they say.

You nudge them as they snicker.

“I’d probably be the wrong Wayne to smooze. My hectic schedule allows for no free time.” he answers.

Fallon laughs at this. “Oh, well you’re kinda on the younger side too.”

You can see Tim’s check taint red. His eyes dart away from the both of you. You still couldn’t believe that a young man like him was in charge of Wayne enterprises- or enterprise, however that worked out.

It probably felt like the world was on his shoulders.

The phone in your cocktail bag buzzed. Even though you didn’t know who it was, you had a very high suspicion that it was the league. What they wanted you to do at tonight’s event was still under wraps. But you knew that whatever task it was, wasn’t going to lead to a happy ending.

It never does.

You open your bag and take out your phone, “I’ve gotta handle this. My Aunt.”

Both Fallon and Tim nod as you walk away from your table and out into the balcony. It was a bit chippy outside so it wasn’t really of use to anyone. The rich don’t like the cold you guessed. Makes sense, heated floors and sidewalks.

The cold air reaches your skin. You don’t shiver. Growing up in Gotham until you were eighteen you hadn't gotten used to it. It was no Antartica but then again that Icicle man did like to rein terror sometimes. It was like practice.

You open the text and sure enough,

tonight you act as transport.

when you get handed a package deliver it here:

45 Gotham Harbor

Great. You were acting as a convoy tonight. It shouldn’t bother you that much, but it does. If whatever they were planning was something real and dangerous and they were keeping you low on the food chain, that mean you were expendable to them.

It hurt.

It wasn’t like you ran away from them. They gave you an opportunity to leave after a couple of years being one of their fastest rising recruits.. At first it felt like a sick test. Like one final trust fall before they could actually believe your unwavering loyalty.

You sat with the decision for days. It was a whole week before you decided to get out of the league. You thought that as soon as you stepped food out of the place they would kill you. But you walked out the front door and kept walking.

Oddly enough they had even given you a ride to Gotham.

But you being a convoy tonight? This felt like a test. One you needed to pass. If not for your life, then to find out what they were really planning. The league never takes care of things so out in the open like this.

“Did you just get dumped or something?” another random voice.

You turn off your phone and turn your head to the left. In the dark corner of the balcony is a guy. You can only make him out because of his lit cigarette. If it weren’t for that, you probably wouldn’t have made him.

Have your senses and training begun to fade? Ra’s is probably somewhere vibrating off the walls.

Sure enough he comes out of the dark and you can see him fully. He’s not in the night standard uniform. Instead he's in a dress shirt underneath a brown jacket. He did try with the black slacks you see.

Was he security? No he looked a bit familiar.

You think you should probably say something before he thinks rudely of you.

“No, just an interesting text.”

He hums some sort of sound. And then he walks a bit closer. You notice its not close enough to reach out and touch him. He’s really careful. He must be some type of security.

“You were talking to Tim, you one of those Gala Groupies?” he asks.

The shock that falls upon your face can't be helped. It instantly turns into sourness at the implication that you were a groupie. First off, Galas are boring. Second you’d more likely be a groupie for a rockstar than a rich old man- let alone a younger guy like Tim.

You hiss and cross your arms against your chest, “That was bit presumptive wasn’t it?”

“I didn’t mean it as an insult. Presumptive to think that I did.” he bites back.

You nod you head along with a grin.

“Didn’t know the security detail came with snobbery. How do I know you’re not a groupie for Tim?” you ask.

He looks like he wants to hurl. Then he beings to laugh. His laughter fills the balcony a bit and you just watch in interest. He calms himself and then places his hand over the railing to rest.

“I would not, it’d be weird.”

“Not your type?”

“My brother will never be my type.”

Ah.

You look at him for a second more and then it clicks. This was Jason Todd, the black sheep of the Wayne family, you are talking to. You thought he looked familiar you just couldn’t place him earlier. Even though the white streak through his hair should’ve gave it away.

“My apologies.” you say.

He fakes wiping a tear from his eye. “no worries, you gave me a laugh tonight. I should be thanking you.”

“I am not gonna be your groupie either.”

“Presumptive, but okay.”

“Have a good night.”

Bruce finds Tim in-between mingling and cuts in.

“Oh thank God, I thought for another second my head would burst.” Tim says.

Bruce smiles, “Saved you then.”

“Have you seen Dick anywhere? I wanted to get his eyes on a case of mine.”

“No night work at the Gala. Take a break.”

Bruce begins to look for Dick within the crowd of people. His eye bounce from person to person. Effectively he’s glanced over you without a second thought. Or so he thinks.

When he does finally find Dick, he calls for him. This makes his son stop in his tracks. He comes to a stop and you were right behind him as he did. You aren’t quick enough to stop yourself and so you go colliding into his back.

“So sorry about that.” he says.

You shake your head, “It’s fine. No drinks spilled or whatever they say.”

He throws out a laugh so easily. You smile quickly and make a B-line for Fallon. As you make your way to where they have taken new residence, you see their face change. More specifically their eyebrows go up in the way that says ‘oh?’

“Cut it out, he bumped into me.”

“Maybe you guys can do some more bumping. Later on, if you-”

“I know exactly what you mean and I’m not entertaining you.”

Dick makes it over to his father and his brother. When he does Tim claps his back with his hand. It makes Dick wonder where the time went.

“Nice to see you brother.” Tim says.

“You too. Bruce.”

Bruce just nods. A man of not many words for those closest to him. He sure did know how to entertain guests though. It was all a mask anyways. If anything he was doing them a service not using it with them.

“I almost ran into someone. Thankfully there was no drinks involved, I would’ve ruined a whole outfit.” Dick says, pointing back to you.

Tim follows his finger over to where you and Fallon are standing.

“Oh, that’s who delivered me that letter the other day. Speaking of which, there was another one addressed to you Bruce.” he says.

Bruce nods his head once, “I know I saw it the other night when you passed out on your desk. At some point we’re gonna have a conversation about your sleeping habits.”

Jason walks up to the three men.

“You’ll never correct it. He’s more of a bat than you.” he says.

Bruce is doing double the work. He’s listening to the conversation happening in front of him about Tim’s horrible sleeping schedule or lack thereof. While he looks over at you. The person Tim said delivered the letter.

His child.

#dc #batman #Dick Grayson x reader #Tim Drake x reader #Jason Todd x reader #batman x reader #Bruce Wayne x reader #dc x reader #PAST LIVES #redhood x reader

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theyarebothgunshot · 3 years

Text

jib 6 breakdown and analysis

standard disclaimer: i am not gonna be linking to every single thing i talk about, but i will try my best to link to the moments that stand out to me the most. i have read long posts about this panel before, so not everything in this post is gonna be original or said for the first time ever, simply because there is a good chance that information has stuck in my mind and has subconsciously formed my view of this panel. this is also in no way, shape or form gonna be coherent, unfortunately. i’m just gonna hope that the cockles hivemind will be able to make sense of this regardless. love and light. and lastly, this is all in good fun, so don’t come at me if you think this is too out there please and thank you.

if i would have to give this panel a signifier, i would say this is the panel of the inside jokes. it’s the panel that shows us how well they know each other, to the point that they finish each other’s sentences and start telling the same punchline to a joke at the same time.

but besides all of that, it was also the panel of the shoulder touches, husband behavior, and rescuer misha. let’s dive into it.

i adore the fact that they are laughing and joking with each other from the first second they get on stage. the way that they tell that story about how they planned to have misha nap and have jensen drink whisky and humm, really reminds me of something that i mentioned a lot during my jib 7 analysis: they are very much in sync.

jensen slinging his arm around misha of course had to be compensated with a manly face and manly grip. the rituals… i know they are intricate.

it’s kind of cute how misha tried to both encourage jensen to try that step, and wanted to make sure he wouldn’t hurt himself lmao. dare i say husband behavior? (i do dare and i will do it again, bam bam!)

something about the way they talk about j*red just makes me feel like they are such a team, if that makes sense? like, they both think the same things about j*red’s antics and talk in such a united way about it (“and jensen and i were like…” “i don’t even care. he [points at misha] doesn’t care.”) that it just sounds kind of coupley to me. *whispers* husband behavior.

i love that jensen’s first instinct after talking about missing j*red was to go over to misha, put his hand on his shoulder, and talk about his fucking flirting way of pranking misha versus j*red’s painful pranking of misha. “with you it’s like my friend and protector is....” i truly wish the audience wasn’t as loud as they were in that moment because i would love to fully hear that sentence.

the look on jensen’s face when misha says “save it for when we take off our pants” is just priceless. ‘oh god here we go again, when will he ever learn’ but the funny thing is, he will make the same face later on in the panel, after talking about riding a dragon. that’s the face he makes when one of them goes slightly too far. just thought that was interesting.

what stands out to me the most is his reaction when misha turns around just as he is ‘fake unbuttoning’ his pants like: ‘i’m just kidding i’m innocent’ literally no reason to respond like that if misha is just his buddy.

misha’s “what are you doing?” as jensen is tying his flannel around his waist also stands out to me. he clearly does not like the look and can’t keep his mouth shut (“that was bothering me too”). why would you find the need to comment on your buddy’s fashion choice. (....husband behavior.)

just wanna take a moment to say that it’s very fucking funny that jensen said “don’t take selfies” when you know that just a few years later he would take the chest to chest selfie with misha. oh, jensen.

we have all heard the “jensen pranks misha on set by flirting with him” story countless of times, but it’s still funny to me how flustered misha seems to get by the fact that jensen can get to him that easily. and jensen’s laugh here is so cute, he fully knows what he is doing.

misha jokes that he spends more time sunning on rocks now as a merman than he used to, and jensen immediately starts to walk to the apple juice, something i have noticed that he does whenever he wants to avoid something (be it a question or a situation that’s happening on stage). it almost feels like he is stopping himself from making a comment or something. it’s interesting, because he just turns right back around and starts telling the grasshopper joke without getting anything to drink.

which leads to one of my favorite moments between them: misha, beaming, says that he has heard it before but he wants to hear it again, and mouths the words to the punchline along with jensen. he looks at the audience as if to say ‘good one, right?’ and when jensen goes “is this thing on?” misha immediately tries to distract him from his failed joke by using an inside joke (the first inside joke of the panel) with him. aka good husband behavior.

something tells me that “i’ll see you again, grasshopper” is another inside joke, so we’re counting it: number two.

jensen. jensen pspsps come here. can you please explain to me why you are so horny for misha’s indianrussian accent? i cannot believe him (i can), trying to get him to use the accent to ‘help the girl in the audience’.

so uhm. i think i just heard something while i was rewatching this panel that i never caught before. when misha reads what is on the box that was put on stage, he says: ‘please take this box and open later in private - daniella.’ and jensen goes: ‘yeah that’s from me’ with a flirty Look on his face like. hello??? why have i never seen anybody talk about this??? i’m??? internally screaming??? rest assured i had to take 5 when i saw this shit.

can we take a second to appreciate the fact that jensen gave misha a once over when misha says the glitter is everywhere, and then jensen said “fairy herpes”. why did your mind go to a sexual reference jensen? why? (we know why).

“i hate when you get that look in your eyes. don’t! i’m sorry!” is one of the most coupley things to say, ever. just wanted to point that out.

i love the playful vibe they have during this portion of the panel: jensen asking misha what he will do for the audience (thinly veiled excuse for wanting misha to do something that jensen will also enjoy), throwing the rings at misha, both of them “panicking” and lapping up the spilled apple juice.

look, i couldn’t not include the shirt lift. i had to. especially because of the way he looks at misha afterwards lmao and misha, darling misha, tries to defuse the situation by making a joke and it works because of course jensen does his signature unicorn laugh. sidenote: how cute is jackles when he grabs the guitar, begging people to erase the picture jsfhs. gotta love that man.

“you done messed up” inside joke number 3.

you know what is funny to me? the fact that jensen and misha often pretend not to know certain things about each other when they are on stage together. one example of this is during the underbear debacle, when jensen asks misha to proof he wears orange underwear and pretends he is shocked, even though the whole world knows that misha wears orange underwear.

in this panel, it happens twice. the first time is here, when misha asks jensen ‘do you actually not smell?’ as if he isn’t one of the people in this world who would know that best. and then he, of course, immediately takes this opportunity to sniff jensen’s armpit. i mean. okay. which is extra funny because jackles doesn’t play along with the whole ‘i have no clue’ bit and just goes “yeah you’re not a stinker” without checking because, clearly, he already knows.

i love jensen’s little smirk when he hears misha’s dragon would be pink + misha’s reaction to it.

before i read this post i always thought jensen meant that his own dragon would be salmon colored. but now i think that it’s not far fetched to believe jensen was actually thinking about the fact that he has stated he was wearing a salmon shirt. which means that, in this moment right here, he was implying that instead of pink, misha’s dragon (aka jensen) would be salmon. which makes his reaction (looking down, laughing but shaking his head as if he can’t believe himself) very understandable. remember what i said about that being the face he makes when one of them takes it too far? yeah.

but then, something happens that is quite remarkable to me. instead of backing down from what he said, he fully commits to it. he turns to misha, and goes “if i could ride a dragon”. listen to the way he puts extra weight behind “ride” and “dragon”.

then he asks if he understands the question correctly and repeats “what would it look like?”, the girl in the audience says “yes, but also any special abilities…” but jensen just ignores that because obviously, in his head the dragon is misha and he is not gonna shake that thought process any time soon. so naturally, he goes “i think my dragon that i would want to…” but stops JUST before saying “ride”, the guy KNEW what he was sounding like. lmao jensen i gotta give it to you buddy, good effort. you did well. you came far. you even said “look, i’m just gonna go for it here” even though misha’s face speaks volumes. i love you for that. because everything that came out of your mouth right then sounded very not straight.

in fact, it’s only because of misha’s interference (a reoccurring thing during these panels) that he stops himself completely and goes to talk with misha. i really wonder what would have happened if misha didn’t stop him. i also REALLY wonder what misha and jensen discussed when they turned their backs to the audience. sigh.

now we get to the juicy stuff. jensen’s little slip up here is really really strange, when you think about it. he says “i have kids” before quickly covering that up with “i have a kid now.” i’m not saying the ackles and the collins are one big happy family or anything like that, but i do think that they are close enough for him to slip up like this. maybe the kids hang out together a lot. maybe they have given each other enough support during those early days of raising kids that it sometimes feels like he had multiple kids at that point in time. idk. but in any case, i don’t think that’s a slip up you’d make unless there was some sort of truth in it. he also kind of stumbles over his words right after that. [before anybody runs to my inbox to tell me that j/2 tinhatters think this is about him and j*red raising their kids together: trust me, i know, but we’re not talking about that.]

misha’s cheeky “i thought you were talking about danneel” followed by the both of them simultaneously saying that jensen does not tell her what to do, made me grin like a fool. that is all.

the way jensen says “misha, apparently you were looking pale and you need some sugar. there you go.” is so SOFT AND CUTE idek how to explain what i am feeling but it’s just. a lot. oh wait a minute, i do know what to call it: HUSBAND behavior.

“by the way we’re gonna pay so dearly when we get home” “yeah we are” lmao the jdmv vibes are strong in this one.

look. i know it’s possible that misha woke up alone after that dream, thought to himself ‘i miss her’, went for breakfast, saw jensen, and told this story to him verbatim. but misha is literally telling the story from the pov of waking up from a dream and saying that out loud. it would make sense that he would explain that dream to the person who he woke up with, and that he would follow the dream explanation up with “i miss her”. plus jensen is REPEATING IT as if he was right there when misha said that. add to that the way jackles stumbles over his words here and gets flustered and sits down? and misha’s face? yeah. you done messed up jackles, part 2.

jensen doesn’t know what to do with himself. just look at his face right after he sits down. and misha, once again, comes to the rescue, trying to continue the conversation about poop in order to distract both jensen and the audience. bless his soul.

it leads to the second instance of misha pretending that he doesn’t know something about jensen, namely that jensen can’t stand poop even from his own daughter. misha goes: “no? not for you?” as if he didn’t already know that.

round of applause for the jib team, for putting on ‘this thing called love’ to get jensen and misha to dance……. just saying.

jensen’s little nod to misha right here? husband telepathic communication at its finest. even their silly dad dances are in sync.

jackles you are NOT being slick we can SEE you tossing the mic to your other hand so you can pull misha in by the waist (or honestly maybe his hand landed lower idk idk it’s possible).

it really is something special, though, what happened right here: jensen, macho masculine grumpy performative jensen, is smiling and laughing and enjoying dancing on stage, doing some ballet moves, all because of misha (and by some extent felicia). not just with felicia or by himself, but with rob, osric, etc. honestly it’s heartwarming to watch. it makes me smile so much.

and that was jib 6. thanks for reading everybody <3

#cockles #jib 6 #i used a different method to add the timestamps and i really hope it works this time #as always please feel free to share your thoughts ! <3

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antiloreolympus · 3 years

Text

10 Anti LO Asks

1. you know whats also bad about the red eyes? not only do they look awful on persephone's pink color, they're not even a unique feature? like we've seen hades' eyes go red, we've seen eros' eyes go red, and ares' eyes are ALWAYS red, so even this idea its her "unique queenly trait" doesnt even hold up?? because we've seen it on other characters before?like at least the blue glowing eyes looked unique and even gave her a possessed, otherworldly look, something with the red eyes just dont have.

2. The faces in the latest ep (not fastpass).... Ew

3. I saw someone praise lore olympus art, specifically the ones where Apollo is playing his lyre and Daphne is covering her ears while her hair is split in two (yuck! Bad decision looks awful) so we can see Apollo, the one where she transforms into her hibernation state (weird perspective, chin and neck, I think, also what the hell was that supposed to be?) and the last one before cutting to Thanatos (which, I admit looks a little better that the other but I still got distracted Apollo's arm among other things).

Now, Rachel is a professional artist like 15-25 years older than me (I dunno her age) drawing one of the most liked webtoons.

I feel like I'm nitpicking or being too harsh or crazy because I think it is a little terrible and this person thinks it's amazing and I know art is subjective and all but like the difference of opinion is jarring. I am by no means a professional and my art leaves a lot to be desired and I guess I don't have incredibly high standards (or do I? I'm second guessing). Is it really that good?

Because I know that Smythe commits more than a few anatomy atrocities. I wanted to redraw a few panels two years ago and I noticed a few things that Don't Work Like That.

4. ok but that other anon is right. we shouldnt have to go off old tumblr asks or random tweets to understand what's going on and who the characters are. rachel doesnt realize you have to actually write whats going on, not putting the readers on a scavenger hunt trying to figure out what they're even reading.

5. im honestly surprised LO hasnt ruined more mother figures at this point. maybe maia will be next and depicted as neglectful and hermes is only the way he is because hes acting out to be noticed by her, maybe dione will slut shame aphrodite, who knows, the possibilities are endless when its about ruining every mother figure to prop persephone and hera up and to avoid giving the characters actual personalities that isnt dependent on mommy/daddy issues.

6. I hate the clothing choice for Daphne in run for your life. It felt like she was drawn in a sexualized manner when she shouldn’t have been because she was running away from a r*pist. Like she almost had a nip slip, we almost got her ass, it was like Rachel was trying to fit her butt and chest in a lot of the frames like some video game with the token woman character. Like if a different dress was choosen or how she made Daphne tie the dress, I just feel like Rachel can’t draw outside of pinup sexy that well. Like sexy is fine for sexy scenes but running away from a r*pist is not sexy. (I probably sounded really lame, but the way Rachel presents the story in a feminist way but can only draw one way in not even the same style is annoying)

7. Things I think would have been better for the story instead of focusing so much on HXP

-Expanding on Minthe’s and Hades beginning of their relationship (he couldn’t of fallen for her since she didn’t laugh at him and when she yelled at him said it’s not your fault but you have the hat I think that would have added to his character more to see him more than a 40 year old who hits on barely legal)

-Leto’s kidnapping of Demeter. Both we/are close with Hera, and probably know or each other or may have been friends. Like I wanna know how Leto kidnapped her but also how are they interacting since they probably know each other and Demeter probably had Hera’s back when Hera ended their friendship.

-Ares return to Aphrodite. We don’t get to see much of her character but we know this is something she’s wanted, but they way it was handled was so flat, We assume Aphrodite told Ares that his gf slept with his father to save their son but we don’t actual read any words between the couple. And then they’re living together. I wanna see how they actually interact and stay together like their better moments. Like how well did he settle in, did they talk about how long he left for or is he mad like come on that’s something interesting but I feel like RS can’t write outside of HXP

-the deal with Echo. Why do people think Echo could possibly be Hera’s gf if she’s her assistant. Yeah they do dirty work together BUT I didn’t get a wiff or sexual tension or anything. Was it that she was there with the doctor? It just seems like Hera is that CEO trope who has the assistant always by her now.

-a little more of Pysche and Aphrodite friendship. Like Pysche says Aphrodite is lonely (and we can assume a part of that is Ares) but also because she “doesn’t have many friends” so why not a solo scene of just the two of them being actual friends. Like what did Aphrodite say when she brought back a purple nymph that was gonna help them with their work.

-Hermes not talking about Persephone. I feel like that 99% of what his character is and then just a little bit of himbo.

-Maybe Thantos and Minthe started flirting/hooking up. We’re they friends first or flirts first? Was it after Hades and Minthe got into a fight or something else? What did Thantos like about Minthe and what does she like about him? Why did she stay with Hades with Thantos was there (it’s not like she wanted to be queen of the underworld) How did Thantoas and Thetis meet and become friends? Idk if I was seeing two guys and one of them actually liked my friend I might consider leaving Hades for him. But again hades did have the power to control everything in Minthe’s life (job, home, everything) I do like Daphne and Thantos But I feel like the transition could have been better if we knew more, but again RS can only focus on one thing and that’s HXP.

------FP Spoiler/Mention------

8. FP SPOILERS— I’m done. I’m really done. We called it. We FKN called it. They got married behind the readers back, Demeter didn’t respond to the question as she actively avoided it and time was up, Apollo is somehow involved in the trial- THIS WHOLE THING IS A MESS AND IM TIRED OF HOPING THAT IT GETS BETTER. Four FKN years of this??? I’m done with this Webtoon even though I’m FKN stuck in it. I’m so FKN done.

9. Fast Pass spoiler (kinda) OH MY GOD, I JUST REALIZED THE POMEGRANATE PIN IS JUST PASTED ON EVERY FRAME, NOT EVEN RE DRAWN FOR PERSPECTIVE, NO, JUST COPIED AND PASTED, REGARDLESS THE OUTFIT ANGLE AND LIGHTING, IT'S HILARIOUS!!!I mean, I knew the art was decaying, but this just made me laugh out loud of how bad it looked.

10. persephone’s pomegranate pin just looks like a giant fly that landed on her and won’t leave LMAO

#anti lo #anti lore olympus #lore olympus critical #lo critical

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hey-hamlet · 3 years

Note

*slides in on socks* hey can we hear more abt that bnha cult au, the one where bc mido is quirkless and the cult town thinks hes better for it

So I’m probably going to be too lazy to actually write that as a full fic, so lemme go find my brainstorming and yeet it here for you all! Under a read more bc this is long and messy.

The whole fic takes place over either 1 or 1.5 months

Quirks = route of evil, those without powers are closest to the divine's intentions and anything subverting them from that should be expunged. Closer to normal you look = purer you are. Izuku is considered near gold standard excluding his green hair

2000 people in the town - 82 are quirkless (marked with a band - where? Wrist, neck or?)

Global quirkless pop = 20% but japan is 5%, much much lower in Izuku's generation, movement has been around since the dawn of quirks - infanticide

100 people statistically would make sense but rate of quirkless births vs quirkless people is very different as many die due to poor patient care

Some members of the town are the grieving parents of people who's quirkless children were killed as doctors didn't listen to them - some of the first people izuku meet

"Hizashi's family" Invite izuku over - they aren't related, it's part of a plot where they look at quirk records to invite the quirkless to join. Those who do not are disposed of in the woods.

The quirkless are treated like royalty, free food + other stuff

Anyone not on board is killed - settlement is new but buildings are old - the prior town was chased out/killed to make room for the cult. They used to meet in normal churches but quirkless supporting cults were cracked down on so they relocated into the woods by taking over a town

Start the fic w izuku getting off the train, Town is called Rishi, based the town off Nanmoku

Mum: Miyatani Haiyu Dad: Miyatani Juzou Daughter: Miyatani Kei

Need a very secretive, insular vibe - the place has no wifi, a church radio station and a townhall

Timeline

Arival Bakugo and Izuku take the train, Bakugo is there bc his mother told him to go: Inko was worried about sending Izuku off alone so she offered up bakugo to play guard dog. Bakugo is pissed.

Bakugo will have a blow up about being there pretty early, izuku will try and soothe him which will only make him angrier. Is shinsou there?

Shinsou is coming as well, but later > originally going to meet up w izuku for the first time (shitty foster parents) but wants to shield him from bakugo. Izuku just wants to sleep.

Golden band for the quirkless (ribbon?) “in our town we value good fashioned hard work so we like to give back to the quirkless, this little band lets everyone know the folks we should give a little more to”

Look around town, Izuku alone (shinsou there tomorrow >> all three staying at an inn)

Meet the family, bakugo pissed right off and they talk some smack about him while izuku flounders. “bet he’s got some flashy quirk, huh? Seems like the type. Makes me sick, thinkin they're better just cause they’re -”

Bakugo goes straight to his room to be a piss baby, izuku looks around. They are setting up for a festival. A group of kids teases another with a visible mutation, she cries, izuku tells the kids off and they scatter, she says some concerning stuff izuku is concerned.

Izuku eats dinner w the family, they talk about how they think he’s gonna like it there, the little kid is cute.

Shinsou rolls into town, they go for a hike, its pretty chill - they have a picnic n shit they have dinner w the family

Back to room (share one), izuku fiddling w the radio to find mic’s show, find the town’s own radio, they listen: something about someone being brought into the fold, visitors in town to be treated kindly, a reminder of a church service that week “Hold fast to your faith, the world may slip a little further each day but we shall fight together to bring our faith outwards and bring purity back to the world”

“Wow that was weird” “Wanna do some research?” “Fuck, sure.”

They run into bakugo at breakfast, izuku mentions the show and bakugo kinda nods, “you heard it too?” “yeah. Fuckin weird” “We were gonna do some digging -” “Fuck off, I don’t need you two messing with my shit, I’ll look into myself.” “That was almost polite for Bakugo, huh?”

Maybe timeskip to end of week?

With the family, doing arts craft with the daughter. Shinso is sleeping off a migraine. They mention church vaguely in the background and Izuku tries to look like he's not listening in.

The daughter brings it up to izuku and the family chuckle and say he’s free to come if he wants but there is no need to rush him.

They eat lunch, the family kinda advertise the town to him, talk about the nice quirkless girl down the street his age, how rare it is for quirkless people to be born in this generation. Izuku vaguely thinks about how nice it would be to live there

Church that night, izuku looks in on shinsou to see he's still sleeping in the dark, goes to bakugo “look i know i’m sorry but they’re having church tonight and i know you were a little interested and i was gonna go anyway -” “I’m coming with because otherwise you’ll be useless.” They decide to sneak around to listen “I was kinda -” “yeah, sure” “wait but -” “oh fuck off, it rubbed me the wrong way too. The weirdos might talk different if they know we’re there.”

Bakugo throws a darker jacket at Izuku, he slips on a beanie and they head out into the woods, walking through to reach the back of the church. They wait 20 minutes after it was supposed to start and creep out, they listen in.

“We will purge the impure our streets, we will stop this blight and, we will enact god's wrath and spare the pure, letting relieve the purity of the past. We will strike them down in his name, let them know we are his wolves let loose upon the blinded sheep.”

Bakugo grabs izuku’s arm, they are both pale. They go to run, and a metal sheet falls down. The preacher goes quiet and someone a few people stand and the two of them book it as fast as they can.

They get back to the inn and have a minor freak out, they wake up shinso and they are like “oh shit, oh fuck.” they decide they need proof bc the pros will never listen to them, they become baby detectives

Bakugo going off at izuku and having the shit scared out of him by a local, izuku steps in and the local backs down instantly, all smiles

One part of the story involves them running through the festival, changing clothes and masks as much as the can to escape the people chasing them.

The cult have a gas that is toxic to anyone with the quirk factor and intend to release it all across japan, starting with their own town. The climax of the story see’s Izuku going it alone through the facility, dead and dying bodies around him, looking out for any quirkless members that will stop him as he tries to find the locations of the canisters containing the gas.

Aizawa and Nighteye are in the town as well, Bakugo and Shinsou run to them crying ab how Izuku is all alone and they think he’s going to die and oh god they can’t even help him -

The dumb comedy throughline in this AU is Aizawa and Nighteye have to fake having crushes on each other to explain why they are hanging out so much in secluded areas. They both hate this very much.

Izuku, who recognized the two heroes On Sight, is having a minor crisis about them both being here and apparently getting handsy behind a 7/11.

#i also have the first half of chap one written #i might post it just bc later #its very old and not very good but why not #purity au #bnha au #bnha #asks

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keltonwrites · 3 years

Text

Where no one knows your name

How many times is a person meant to make new friends? When I moved into an apartment in DC with an absolutely iconic girl from Craigslist, I wrote in my journal, “you never know when you’ll meet your next bridesmaid.” Charmingly juvenile, as I was 24 years old. Ironic, as I never had any bridesmaids. And embarrassing, knowing I wrote something that’s surely been embroidered on a bachelorette party t-shirt by now. My point was: you can meet people you fall in love with anywhere, anytime, assuming your heart (and calendar) are open. Now my heart and calendar are open and I am one of Elizabeth Bennet’s sad sisters, cloying and desperate for attention while everyone at the ball ignores me. Meeting people here is unnerving and hapless and eye-clawingly vulnerable. My first new friend told me she was moving away in a few months. Do you invest deeply in hopes of another faraway friendship? Do you just go back to waving as you pass on the street? I like this girl! What an embarrassing thing to have to say to someone! Do you just invite people to every and anything like a lunatic? I can’t even remember to call the people I am forever-and-ever in cahoots with. I’m also deeply bound by what I’ll call the Movie Trap: say it’s 3pm during not-a-pandemic, and you get the urge to see a movie. You look at the showings, and there’s one you really want to see at 7:15. You think to yourself, “I should make an effort,” and you text a friend. “Hey, you wanna go see This Cool Movie at 7:15 tonight?” No one ever says yes. Don’t give me an example of when someone has, because it’s always one of these answers:

“Oooh, I’m actually seeing it with Kate tomorrow - wanna come?”

“Can we go to the 9pm showing? Stuck at work.”

“Yeah but let’s see Movie You’ll Fucking Hate instead.”

Now maybe I’m just lighting flares guiding you to the worst parts of my personality, but this drives me nuts. No, Liz, I don’t want to go tomorrow. I want to go tonight. At 7:15. So I can be in bed by 10. And you’d have to drag my dead body and prop open my eyes to get me to see something like Marriage Story in theaters. The Movie Trap is a big reason I usually hang out by myself, or I make plans weeks in advance. (Don't I sound like a blast.) Just the idea of being like, “I like you! Wanna hang out in October?” makes me want to collapse into a puddle of sad adulthood. Which is why on Friday at 4:30pm, when a girl I’d met a week prior asked if I wanted to grab a drink, I just said yes. I put on a pretty dress, did my makeup, put stuff in a purse, and drove the 25 minutes to town. It was really fun! And how novel to have new contacts in my phone like “Maggie blue house” and “Jess concert friend” — a throwback to the days of “Greg guy on L train” and “Devon ad party.” The very concept of not knowing someone’s last name or even needing it, and a year from now updating their contact info and smiling at your origin story. But for the most part, no one is in our phones. In terms of phone numbers collected, here is the list:

Two friends we knew prior who thank god you guys exist.

New friend who is moving away.

New friend who is game to drink tequila and ride mountain bikes.

Neighbor-not-yet-friend who I really fucking like and am not sure how to cross hang-out threshold with.

Not to say there aren’t any other prospects or people I’m platonically gaga over, but I don’t have their phone numbers. There are honestly a lot of people like this because when you live in a small town (and you’re from the Midwest) you say “oop, sorry” to every person/object you bump into, and you say “hi :)” to every person you see. These are the rules. If I drive by you and don’t wave, it’s because I was so deep in a daydream I probably shouldn’t have been driving in the first place. This isn’t acceptable, because in our urgency to tattoo our vaccination status on our foreheads so we can make friends, it turns out just driving by someone can be a viable strategy. A few days ago, a man was driving by our kitchen window and then our driveway, and then he reversed back up to the kitchen window and started waving. Ben went outside — it was that kind of wave. The man had seen from his car a smokejumper emblem on the back of a truck in our driveway. “Hey, are you a smokejumper?” We aren’t. But my dad was, and he was in town visiting, accompanied by the emblem on the back of his truck. The guy said we should drink sometime. Numbers were not exchanged. We’ll call that a node, because it’s not quite a connection. And it’s mainly nodes, waiting to be connected, to have relevance. But first, no matter who you’re trying to befriend, you have to answer everyone else’s Do I Care Quiz. The quiz is employed by 93% of locals to determine how they feel about you existing within their personal 50-mile radius. The first question is non negotiable:

1) Are you visiting?

Variations on this question include “how long are you in town?” or “what brings y’all to town?” or my least favorite and most insulting, “did you just finish Jeeping?” I know I have blonde hair and say y’all, but how dare you. (Also, to be clear, you can own a Jeep, customize your Jeep, mod out your Jeep, and love your Jeep, but you’re not Jeeping until you drive too fast through a tiny town so you can hurl your Jeep over a mountain pass without ever getting out of it.) So the answer to “are you visiting” is “no, I live here.” Which brings us to the next question, my favorite for how loaded the gun, kneeling in the grass, scope on, target locked it is.

2) Are you part-time or full-time?

The first time I answered this question, I didn’t realize it was essentially like asking how someone voted in the 2020 election. The judgment was cocked and ready and the palpable relief/joy/or at the very least, tolerance, exuded by answering “full-time” was like when the sun comes out from behind the clouds on a 40 degree day. I was fine, but wow that does feel better. The third question though does not have a standard hoped-for answer. This is where nodes turn to connections turn to phone numbers.

3) What brings you here?

It seems like the best possible answer would be saying you work in town, and you’re going to begin construction on displaced-worker housing to ensure the people who run this town can actually live in it. We’d have everyone’s phone number. Saying you’re a writer who works remotely and bought a house from a legendary and beloved local who could no longer afford it is really something you keep to yourself. But in the interest of making friends, I just word vomit my entire history. We might as well find out at the onset if I make your eyes roll back into your skull. Not at all threatening that all it takes is a single social signal misinterpreted to be the absolute death knell of my ability to make friends in a town of some 1400 adults. In fact, I’ll share one such interaction. I was hiking with Cooper, about 5 miles by foot away from my house. I was on a trail, crossing a sloped meadow, and a group was traversing up the hillside to the trail. I said hi, where y’all coming from. One girl answered and we talked about the trail. She eyed me up and down. “Did you just move here?” “I did!” “I served your family last week,” she said. “Oh,” that phrasing. “Must have been my in-laws.” “Heard you bought Jack’s house. Such a bummer when locals like that are forced out.” “We didn’t even know about his house,” I said. “We were looking at another house and he asked his realtor if he could get us to come see his house. We just loved it, and him!” She had no emotional reaction to this. “You moved from California?” she asked. (Dangerous question.) “Yeah, got these sea level lungs, haha,” attempting to disarm with humor was a failure, “but couldn’t be happier to be out of California.” “It’s not like this all year. Winter’s really hard here, you’re in for a rude awakening.” “Well California’s the last place I lived, but I’m not from there. I’ve lived in brutal winters. At least Colorado gets sun!” I laugh with cloaked loathing. “It’s different when you live at altitude,” she said, like no human aside from her had ever been literally anywhere. “Are you trying to go around?” She indicated the path behind her. “No, y’all go ahead, just gonna wait to give you your space. I’m sure you’re faster than me.” “K, good luck making it to the lake." Maybe she was thirsty. Maybe she was hungover. Maybe she just has vicious delivery, but it felt like every blade of grass was leaning against the wind to listen. She was with four other people and not one of them said a word. I left that interaction not wanting to see another human ever again. But that interaction, and her intimate knowledge of exactly which house I lived in, made me want to decorate like we lived in a gingerbread house, all candy canes and plum drops, screaming to any passerby that we’re friendly. One of the mayor’s first questions to me was “what are you going to do to the house?” There are rules here about what your house can look like, and I kept emphasizing we bought the house because we loved it, not because we wanted to change everything about it. And now, instead of wanting to decorate the interior, I want to put up shades so we don’t contribute to light pollution, I want to hang a sign by the water spigot saying “grab some if you need” for hikers and mountain bikers, I want to paint a sign for the wild mint by our door that says, “I mint to tell you to take some,” because our neighbors were openly panicked they wouldn’t be able to just grab mint from the cabin’s garden anymore. Without question, COVID makes things harder. Dinner parties feel like dares. Dropping cookies off at someone’s house feels invasive. Grabbing a drink feels like the ultimate sign of trust. But at least we have nodes who can connect who can think to invite us and who can see that despite having lived in California, we’re not all that bad. In the meantime, I’ll be painting signs about water and mint, hoping to garner the benefit of the doubt from the so beautifully, earnestly, and waiting-to-see-if-you’re-worth-it doubtful.

Subscribe to the newsletter at tinyletter.com/keltonwrites — high altitude relocation and renovation in a tiny mountain town.

#amwriting #newsletter #making friends #how to make new friends #adulthood #small town life

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aimasup · 4 years

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Maybe i'm late but, did anyone, like actually have left remus in a small place (for his claustrophobia) for like 4 hours or something just because he did something bad? If yes did anyone just stayed here and heard him suffer? Or actually tried to help him out in secret? Sorry if it is long ^^'

Deceit’s smarmy snake grin never left his confident face. Oh god, Remus was giving him the look. No one ever liked being given the look, something that no Side should ever be subject to, carrying the promise of your emotional vulnerability, a sackful of seeing through your bullshit and a dash of demented purity rivaled only by Patton. And Vir

Deceit cleared his throat, loudly and with purpose. “Well? Go on, Remus.”

Remus rolled his eyes, a childish staple of his that always looked comical. “Oh come on, Nope Rope, you and I both know you spout more shit than a bull with diarrhea after one of your nightmares. So you might as well follow it up with some tea.”

So much wrong had just come out of Remus’ mouth. The man smelled like tonsil stones on a good day yet he still managed to surprise the Sides with horrifying bouts of intellect every now and then. The slimy little bugger.

"Clearly you've remembered what I told you about calling me names."

Remus leaned happily. "Nakey Snakey."

"Remus..."

"Boop Noodle!"

"Remus."

"Dangle Fangle!"

"Remus! Shut up!"

Remus feigned offense. "I'm trying out ones that start with a D!"

"That's not my point! Now distract me with musical ditties as you were instructed, you foul wretch!"

"Slithervester Stallone-!" Remus had time to squeal before Deceit squashed his face with a pillow and snatched the remote. The game was on as if by instinct and Remus tackled him from under the pillow, shrieking muffled. Deceit whacked him on the head, hard, with the remote. Remus was distracted momentarily, so Deceit took the chance and shoved him off of him with more force than necessary, insulting him all the while.

"-you nitwit, you just can't listen, can you, you moron, you bitch, you're so thick-headed, do that again and I swear-"

"You'll what, you'll lock me in the closet?"

All of a sudden, it was like an invisible giant had drowned the room in heavy syrup. The tightness from before returned and Deceit, still breathing hard, glared at Remus with gritted teeth and panicked eyes. The Side was below him, pillow on his chest, grin gone and singlet askew.

That one sentence, although it needed no context to tell who had been on the receiving end of it, brought more distress to the deceitful side than it did to the other, strangely enough. They kept their eyes trained on each other. Neither would admit that they felt like they were breathing molasses and it wasn't sweet. The television had long ago blacked out, a deafening silence following its rather meek departure.

Remus' eyes didn't stop glowing. Deceit's didn't either. None were good signs, but Remus still said, in the rare soft tone his voice could manage at times, "That's the problem, isn't it?"

Deceit swallowed. He turned away and stared at the floor, eyes narrowed to slits. He had put down the remote with controlled harshness on the sofa. He exhaled through his nose and never made eye contact with Remus.

Everyone had their little tics. Remus hated being called scary. Roman was a compulsive perfectionist. Patton had a repression habit. And Thomas didn't want to be a bad person.

Neither did Deceit.

"You know I'm over that, right?"

"... obviously."

That could mean anything, and that wasn't even getting to which part of the question he was answering. Remus bit his tongue. His canines dug into the muscle, and he pulled them out again, breathing in the scent of his own blood. Feeling a bit better, he turned away from Deceit and stared at the black screen of the TV.

"No, really you don't have to worry about it. You worrying about it pisses me off."

Still no response.

"Deceit?" Remus couldn't help but feel a bit concerned at this exchange.

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

"Who--who are you?" Fun blurbled at the figure on all fours before him. Fresh tear stains still stained his cheeks, an ear-to-ear smile etched below his eyes.

Something was off. Heart had run away with someone who looked like him, and had left him alone. He'd never do that. He'd always stuck with him through anything, no matter what he said or did. But the look Heart had given him... it was as if he didn't know what to make of him all of a sudden. Less than that, even.

The figure, still cautious and poised to pounce, didn't answer. Its impossibly wide reptilian eyes glowed bright in the dark, illuminating nothing on its entirely pitch black body, and Fun could make out nothing but a few familiar features.

"Are you a--a Side too?"It flinched and hissed at him. Fun found that he didn't duck away from the grotesque mouth that opened too wide. Or more like, there wasn't anything in his head that told him it was gross. He found it cute because it was gross, in fact.

When the brown-rimmed mouth closed, it was as if it was never there. It glared at him through narrowed eyes and spat at his feet.

"Oh."

With all the pure spite radiating off of the thing, it still approached, walking perfectly on its hands and legs. It didn't look clumsy moving like that, and Fun suspected it had always been that way.

"Wh--what are you doing?"Fun tried not to find this tiny demonic thing adorable. Didn't help matters when it planted its face on his sticky, black knee (... huh.) and walked off.

Before Fun could process what just happened, it turned around with the calmest expression and stared. And waited. It wanted him to follow.

As adorable as the thing was, Fun still had his doubts. He didn't want to leave. This was where his friends were. Curious little Learning, sweet as sugar Heart, cowardly yet caring Careful. But he had a feeling they didn't want to see him again.

It broke his heart.

So with a greasy squelch, Fun struggled to his feet and went with the creature.

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

"Deceit, you need to stop holding yourself over that. We can't be like the Others."

The further lack of response frustrated Remus. He probably should be trying to comfort Deceit, but that wasn't his type. Tough lo--learning would have to do, it was how it always went. They couldn't afford to be wishy-washy with stuff like feelings.

"Deceit, if you don't stop feeling bad about it I'm gonna smack the shit out of you. With my bare hands. And this morning star."

"Aren't you trying too hard not to be Roman?"

Remus slammed his weapon into the pillow. "Well I think you're trying too hard to be Patton!"

"Wouldn't you think Virgil would have wanted that?" Deceit was weary. Remus breathed in sharply through his teeth and stuttered.

"What?"

"It's clear we weren't the best to him. It's not his fault he left. It was for the best. He needs better than us. He deserves better than us."

"What the fuck!" Remus threw up his hands. "What the fuck, Deceit! What happened to being your own person? What happened to not giving a shit about living up to anyone's standards?! You don't know what you're talking about, because you're tired, and you're just a hypocrite who was never able to see past your own horseshit!"

"I know."

Remus wanted to rip his hair out. Deceit's or his own, he didn't really care. "Jesus Christ! Ugh!"

He flumped into a pillow and screamed into it.

Deceit watched him.

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

"You know, it's kinda weird how you don't wanna be called a Side, you know? Like, you look like Heart, and we all know that Heart looks the most like Thomas. So you gotta be pretty important. If you look the most like Thomas. Next to Heart. You know what I'm saying?"

It was still silent. The quiet walk down the tattered corridor had been awkward, and now that they were up the stairs and in some padded room that was probably the creature's, Fun tried to fill the silence as the creature studied him. It prowled around Fun as he sat cross legged on the floor, leaking tar all over the place.

"And, well, Learning is super important too. And Careful. We're all super important." It brushed by his shoulder and stared at his back with interest for a good two seconds before sitting back on its haunches.

"But Learning only looks the second most like Thomas. Careful just likes his hair to be all dangly. Though he clips it back sometimes to fit in? I think? I dunno."

"Anyways, I just thought that maybe once we're done here, with." Fun looked at the creature. "Whatever this is. I could bring you back with me to the others! I just got rid of the bad stuff in me, and once I get all cleaned up, and you too, we'll be all okay again!"

The creature stopped prodding at his back and he could feel it staring into nothing. Fun couldn't help but note the lack of breath on his neck. Either it gave up trying to appear human a long time ago or it was just that short. He giggled at the thought.

But that faded away when he started feeling slight concern. It was too silent. He hated silence. Fun turned to look over his shoulder, then shuffled his body around to peer at the creature, who was now deep in thought.

"Hey bud? What's wrong with ya? Cat got your tongue?" He chuckled. "I've heard that from Learning and Heart a lot. You're gonna love em. They'll help you lighten up! Trust me, we've been through lots together, they'll like you too!"

It lifted its head up and fixated him with the saddest stare anyone could give a Side. Fun felt his excitement at meeting a new friend weather away when he felt that something was terribly, terribly wrong.

A thin line of brown appeared, and widened. It's eyes darted here and there with consideration. It was choosing its words. Fun titled his head as it strained to force out words.

"Not."

"Uh. Huh? You can talk!"

"Fun."

"Wait, what are you saying?"

It bounced in place with clear frustration. After clutching its head and shaking it, it tried again.

"You. Not." It tried once more. "You. Not! You! Not! Fun!"

Fun withered under its glare, a little hurt. "I'm not fun to be with? I'm sorry, uh-"

"No!"

Fun's heart ached for the thing, confused and intrigued. All of them learned how to speak along with Thomas. How was it that this Side didn't?

"Gone."

"..."

"Fun. Gone."

"I really don't understand."

"Fun." It drew a capital F in the air. He nodded, a little less lost. It nodded too.

"Fun. Split. Gone. You. Green. Half. Heart. You. Red. Half. You." It was closer now. It stuck a finger onto Fun's chest, sorrowful expression looking like it was supposed to be welling up with tears. Its jaw trembled. "Half. Bad. Half."

"Not. Their. Fun."

Fun wasn't so sure about anything anymore. He understood it perfectly, he just really didn't want to. "You can't be serious."

It was. It looked as if it has never been more certain of anything in its life. It lowered its head.

Panic gripped him like no other and his mind began racing. He gestured wildly.

"Then--then who's that other half?! They can't go on without Fun! Thomas can't go on without Fun!" The partial emptiness that he'd been trying to ignore a long time ago had grown more apparent as he ranted. "I can't let that happen! What will they do?"

Half. Bad. Half.

It struck. 'Fun' felt his chest drop to his stomach. "They. I'm the bad half."

The creature was still as a statue."They--they think--they think the red me is--is Fun, they, Learning, Careful, H-Heart--they don't know me."

The black and green outfitted grease blob blubbered on. "It's--it's not fair! I know them! I drew pictures with Thomas, I came up with our names, I--I'm--I know what Fun knows!"

He desperately turned to the creature in front of him. "They can't do this! I-if the other me is Fun, then I'm Fun too! I'm still Fun! I still know them! I still love them! At the very least, I'm still one of Thomas' Sides!" The creature silently stared as he kept talking, as his words blurred together with cries of anguish, as he put his forehead to the floor, bunching his sash in his hands. All tears had run out earlier, and there were only bawls of despair that dissolved into whimpers.

The humanoid grease blob didn't know what to call himself anymore. But it still wasn't fair at all. The truth was that. They thought that their Fun had returned from the battle, sword held high and rid of the beast. To them, Fun was better than ever.

But what was he?

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

"When you explained in your dumb loophole way that my stupid ass brother wasn't me, it was the first time you had advice you didn't follow, did you?"

"Remus, you can't pretend you don't feel the same."

"Fuck off!" Remus groaned. "I'm not pretending for anything, Dee, I've said it multiple times, I have nothing I want to hide! But you can't be serious about wanting to be like Patton!"

Deceit pondered his answer. "I may or may not have considered it."

Remus let go of Deceit's shirt slowly. He still fixated him with fierce angry eyes as his fingers loosened, setting the smaller Side down a little. So he didn't actually think it. Just a passing thought. Okay then.

Deceit straightened his collar and smoothed out the wrinkles in his outfit. And he was back to looking sullenly at the a spot on the carpet.

Remus swallowed. God, this was harder than it needed to be. He wondered if this was how Deceit felt when he was younger, rawer in his state, unable to speak in anything but opposites. He didn't have to teach Deceit how to not speak in opposites, because the more they raised each other, the more Deceit's black scales had resided and his speech freedom loosened up.

They always talked it out, they always had to stick close. So why was it so hard now?

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

The squeal of unbridled joy when it was introduced to noir films, the long bath chases, the practice with his creations and tentacles, the nights spent splayed out messily on the same bed after a nightmare. It was simple. So simple.

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

Deceit could feel the stare from Remus leaving him. God, if that moron tried to comfort him now he was going to explode. His eye would leak tears like a broken faucet and he would be a pathetic blubbering mess, and Remus would have blackmail until the day Thomas finally died.

He swore he could feel the long exhale and mutterings as Remus thought on what to say. He really didn't care, in the end. Deceit wanted nothing more than to do his job and think nothing of anything ever again. He didnt--

"Virgil's gone, and there's nothing we can or could do about it. Because of how we are. It's jackshit to say we can change our nature. Nothing. Nada. Zero." Firm hands with black acrylics gripped his shoulder and turned his tired eyes onto Remus' own.

"Feeling sorry for yourself won't change anything. Things happen, jackoff."

Deceit's breath hitched, but he didn't quite feel like crying, oddly enough. Strange that through gritted teeth and eyes that could gleam death to anyone who doesn't know Remus well, he felt more clarification than all his thoughts combined. His mind had chanted a mantra of things his whole life, and what Remus said was only one of them. Deceit had been hoping to finally hear them from an outside source. But somehow, someway, Remus had found a way to make this line of reasoning sound less harsh.

Unpredictable as always.

"Remus. I.."

He placed his hands gently on Remus' wrists, patted twice. Remus let go and studied him, an air of sternness and also nervousness apparent in his face. They simmered in the unsaid apology, sitting on the couch in their lonely, mangy living room, like it was a vague yet satisfactory ending to a movie. That was how all their arguments would usually end, but it was rarely in any way fulfilling.

Deceit thought on it. Swallowing the hard lump in his throat, he choked out a laugh. "God, we're such a mess."

Glad the tension was broken, Remus smiled, ugly shark teeth in full view. "Yeah we are. We're the Mindscape's dumpster fires."

They were delirious with more emotion than they experienced on a daily basis, and they both chortle along to Remus' weak joke. Jesus, if you could lose fat due to mental work as well as physical, Thomas would be underweight by now.

Remus shook his head. "Honestly, you can't think too much about it. Just think of all the times we battered each other in this place, and you'll feel better about the closet thing."

Deceit snorted. "How is it that I'm more affected by it than you? Like all the times you ripped out my hair."

"Or all the times you silenced us whenever you felt like it."

"Or all those times you slammed me in to a hard surface."

"Remember that one time you left me in the closet for a week?"

"I still remember how I silenced Virgil for a month."

Remus snapped his fingers. "Yeah, Virgil, I remember how many times he gave us hallucinations. Sometimes he'd give us panic attacks for the hell of it!" He laughed.

"He was always quite the hothead."

"That's not even counting his stabs. Not just with a knife."

"Knowing you, that could mean anything."

Remus swooshed his hands in a rainbow-shaped gesture gleefully."Oooooh, whatever you want it to mean!" The joke was lacking and childish, but Remus' delivery was so goofy.

Deceit chuckled, back of his hand pressed daintily to his mouth as always. Remus giggled in short bursts of high-pitched derangement along with him.

Then it dissolved into awkward silence as they pondered their situation, up at ass o' clock in the morning, sprawled over the couch in undignified manners, dim light flickering because they were too depressed to fix it, talking about unreasonable hostile behavior so casually like they were fond memories of family vacations.

"... let's go make breakfast."

"Okay, Caution Ramen."

"I'm sorry?"

"Hazard Spaghetti. Murder Spagurder."

"...what."

"Judgemental Shoelace."

"Oh, shut the fuck up."

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

"No! Get away!" The sobbing figure cowered away from the green and yellow-tinted Sides, if you could call them that.

Bad Thoughts put his hands out. "Woah, woah, hey, we won't hurt you! Much."

Deceit slapped Bad Thoughts as the Side, who was slowly fading into a full black and purple from the legs up, put his hands in his hair and screamed louder. "Shut up! Go away! I'm sorry! Please! I hate you! Go away!"

"Well that's a lot of mixed signals." Bad Thoughts muttered. Careful looked a lot different from what he had remembered. He was seeming more tired and grievous. A faint spark of recognition flashed across Careful's eyes when he peeked up at him, but ducked away when Bad Thoughts stretched the arm with his morning star.

Without a word, Deceit knelt down and wrapped his arms around Careful. He flinched, but he stopped sobbing at least. He was still breathing hard when BT decided to join in, planting himself as softly as he knew how to on Caution.

"You're okay," Deceit murmured. "You're alright. You won't hurt anyone. You won't do that."

Caution hiccupped, staring at the ceiling, eyes brimming with angry tears. He hissed though gritted teeth."How--how do you know? You don't understand, I cause so many problems--"

"Yeah, we do. We know that. But that's you." Remus said. "Who cares if you do? Causing problems is what we do around here. You can't blame yourself for doing what you do best."

Caution was still dubious. He was sniffling. Slowly, he put his arms on Deceit's back. "I don't want to make more trouble."

Deceit lowered his head onto his shoulder. "Just come with us. We cause trouble, but whether you want to do that is up to you."

The black was receding, but the purple still lingered a little. All four of Caution's eyes blinked.

Remus pulled away, leaving only his hand on Careful's shoulder. His old friend, who didn't know who he was, who was meeting him for the first time. "Besides, I don't think you meant to cause that breakdown."

Caution finally turned and looked, actually looked at him for the first time since they were children. "You don't?"

"Nope!"

The purple color was down to his knees again. The black was gone.

"But," Caution started, both Sides pulling back to give him space. "But, it was so unnecessary, and--and the whole damn class was watching, and the other sides were freaked out-"

"Yeah, so? It was cool! Don't you think it's some way of letting everyone know that Thomas was upset? Things were getting hairy and you pulled it off perfectly." Remus gave an exaggerated chef's kiss in the air.

"That power is something only you hold, storm cloud." Deceit said. "Like Remus said, it's who you are. It was quite the display."

Caution eyed them suspiciously. "Yeah, well, you guys would think so."

"Don't you see? If you come with us, you can learn to control that! You can choose your own rules, you can choose when you want to have influence over Thomas!" Deceit lowered his voice. "You can protect Thomas by forcing the others to hear how much you try."

Caution didn't make eye contact, finding it difficult when two people stared at once. But he was thinking about it, clearly. The others had been trying to ignore him lately, and no one had to be a genius to figure that out. The rise and fall of his chest grew a little quicker as he realized how unfair it was that he was just trying to be a Side, and Thomas didn't care. The spite and betrayal was evident in his eyes, the same that had plagued Bad Thoughts and Deceit so many times in their childhood.

It was decided.

He looked up with grim determination. "C-call me Fear."

Previous parts here and here

Claustrophobic Remus post here

2K notes · View notes

fallingappleshurt · 4 years

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Project Pink

Sorry Y’all this one got away from me again and I wrote it while tired, again. Anyways here is some badly written shit and have a good period of existence in the universe!

Oh god my brain is going brrrrrrrr

Techno and Wilbur.

It had always been Techno and Wilbur Soode against the world.

Some would make jokes about how it was because they were identical twins, they got ridiculous questions like ‘If I pinch him will you feel it?’ or ‘Can you guys mentally speak- like through your minds?’ They would roll their eyes and say no, sometimes they’d joke around acting like they could read each other's mind or something stupid but it was rare.

They went through multiple foster homes, refusing to be separated from each other, if they ever were they’d find a way back to the other, because it was them against the world.

Then they got placed with Phil Wingraft.

He was different.

They had been through a few foster homes, some were good, some were okay, and one was really bad but Phil was different.

He treated them like they were normal, he was gentle but not patronizing or condescending, he would joke around with them but also became a person they could trust.

He took the time to learn about their interests, he got Wilbur a guitar and took Techno to the library every week. He took the time to recognize the difference between Wilbur’s crazy fluffy hair and Techno more tame but still wavy curls. Wilbur was taller then Techno by half a head but from a distance it was hard to tell. They both had the same shaped face and the same cinnamon colored eyes, the main difference was Techno had glasses.

They stayed with Phil for a year before they were officially adopted and became a family. A two years later he asked them how they would feel if he started fostering another kid, named Tommy.

“I’d be okay with that,” Techno said, shrugging, he hadn’t really processed it but he’d go along with it. Wilbur agreed too, nodding along, it seemed like it would make Phil happy so why not?

“That’s great, it’ll take a few days for the paperwork to go through, then he’ll be with us!” Phil was grinning, this was making Phil happy so this could make Wilbur happy.

Later they were in their room when Techno kicked the top bunk Wilbur was laying on.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, rolling his head halfway off the bed, trying to look at his brother.

“What?” Wilbur asked, looking over the railing.

“Don’t be like that, I know that look, you look like you just ate a suspicious lemonhead,”

“I don’t have a look like that!”

“Stop avoiding the question!” His face softened, “What’s wrong?”

“I’m just worried about the new kid, Tommy, I-I don’t know, it just makes me worried, what if it changes things?”

Techno was quiet, he bit his lip.

“I get that, it makes sense but I don’t think anything bad will happen. Phil is great and I don’t think he would push us away, he’s not like that. Who knows, maybe we can have a little brother,”

Wilbur huffed out a small laugh, smiling softly, “Yeah, a little brother, that would be nice.”

Techno sighed contently, shifting back onto his bed. They laid in silence for a moment when Wilbur laughed.

“I mean, it’ll be nice for you, I already have one.”

“Two minutes Wilbur! Two minutes!”

Tommy joined them 4 days later, a little blonde dweeb with baby blue eyes. He was loud, annoying, and hyper. He would talk loudly when Techno was trying to do homework, he untuned Wilbur’s guitar, he said it was an accident but they weren’t really sure, and was overall like a bull in a china shop.

Techno was gonna pull his own hair out, Wilbur had come very close to locking him out of the apartment, they were both going to kill him.

It took them two weeks to fall in change completely.

It started when Tommy asked Techno for some help in his homework, it actually shocked Techno, the kid who was so loud and proud of his accomplishments shyly asking if Techno could help him with his math work was interesting, to say the least.

Techno almost said no, almost teased him, ‘What? The Great TommyInnit needs help? I thought you knew everything!’

Almost.

Tommy looked different, fingers nervously tapping on the packet, trying not to crickle it, eyes darting around, even his voice was shaky.

It reminded Techno when he’d ask an old foster parent for help, only they’d turn him away, telling him to figure it out, that they were too busy.

He didn’t want to be like that.

“Sure, what are you learning?” He pushed some of his papers aside, making room for Tommy’s. Tommy grabbed a chair and sat next to him.

“Algebra,” He said, frowning, “I don’t get it- it’s just so weird,” He put his chin in his hands.

“Don’t worry, Algebra is super confusing-”

“Yeah right, you get everything, you’re really smart!”

“You’re smart too,” Techno offered, not sure what to say.

“Then name a time I’ve been smart!”

Techno short circuited.

“See!” Tommy gestured wildly.

“Tommy I’ve known you for two weeks, I’m sure you’ve done plenty of-”

Tommy groaned, “Nevermind, forget it-” He slid off the chair only for Techno to reach over and grab his arm.

“No, I’m sorry, just let me help,”

Tommy made a face but sat back down, “Fine.”

It had been 2 hours.

“This is useless! I’ll never get it!” Tommy stuck his hands in his hair.

“Just try this last problem, you’re so close!”

“No! I’ll just mess it up again!”

“You don’t know that, just try again!”

Reluctantly, Tommy picked his pencil back up and started on the equation. Techno turned back to his paper, finishing up a definition sheet, Tommy’s mumbles drifting in the background.

“Then add the two to get 16?” He looked up at Techno, who closed his textbook and looked over Tommy’s worksheet, covered in half erased scribbles, doodles, and pencil shavings.

“That’s right,” He grinned, reading over Tommy’s work again, “You did it,”

“Wait seriously? I got it right?”

“Yeah!”

“Yes! I did it!” Tommy pumped a fist in the air, cheering. “Thanks Techno!”

“Anytime nerd,”

Wilbur had been messing around with his guitar, sitting on his bunk, scribbling down music notes on a scrap of paper. He’d write a few phrases down and sing them softly to himself, strumming a few chords.

Scowling, he erased half the page, grumbling to himself; “It doesn’t sound right, why can’t I get it-”

“I thought it sounded nice,” Someone said from the bunk beneath him. Wilbur jumped, yelping, he hit his head on the ceiling. He leaned over the railing to see Tommy sitting on Techno’s bunk, limbs tangled around the latter.

“What are you doing? I thought you were out with Techno and Phil!” Wilbur said, sounding harsher and more shrill then he meant to, Tommy shrugged, “I didn’t want to go to the library today.”

“Wish I knew that beforehand,” He grumbled, going back to his music sheet.

“You seem mad,” Tommy observed, twisting his arm around the metal.

“Yeah I’m mad,”

“Why?”

“‘Cause I can’t get these stupid lyrics to sound right and you just scared the shit- I mean crap- out of me.”

Tommy cackled, “I’m telling Phil you swore!”

“Shut up,” Wilbur grumbled, gripping his pencil tighter. Tommy tipped his head to the side, “I don’t get why you’re angry, those lyrics sounded really nice.”

Wilbur paused, “You think so?”

“Yeah! It was really cool!” Tommy said, starting to come up the latter, he climbed onto the bed with Wilbur, “I liked it a lot!”

Wilbur smiled softly, “Thanks,”

“Can you play it again?”

“Oh, uh, sure,” Wilbur sat up straighter, putting the guitar in a better position , “I don’t remember all the lyrics though,”

He started playing, slowly his nerves of playing in front of someone else started to slip away as he fell into the rhythm and flow of the music. He looked up briefly a few times seeing Tommy, smiling widely, eyes filled with admiration. He finished the song and looked at Tommy, who immediately leaned forwards.

“That was so good! Write it down so you don’t forget! Wilbur that was epic!”

“Really?”

“Definitely!” Tommy leaned back, then quietly added, “And I’m sorry I messed up your guitar the other week, it wasn’t on purpose,” He trailed off.

Wilbur shrugged, “It’s fine, you didn’t do any real damage, just messed up the tuning,”

“I was messing with it cause I wanna learn how to play, could you maybe show me sometime?”

“Maybe, I’m still considered an amateur on most standards,”

“Seriously?!”

Tommy went to the same school as them, he was in the sixth grade while Techno and Wilbur were in 8th, so they saw each other in the halls every once and awhile. The one thing Tommy hadn’t been able to learn, despite the fact he had learned algebra, basketball, and some of the guitar, was how to tell Techno and Wilbur apart when they weren’t standing directly next to each other.

They had tried everything, Tommy would try to memorize the different clothes they wore each morning, the small differences in their hair, how they walked or moved around but nothing worked.

One day when they were in the car on the way home from school, Tommy was pouting, or ‘stewing’, as Phil would say. He barely talked the whole ride home.

“Alright I’ll bite,” Wilbur said, turning around in the front seat, “What’s wrong?”

Tommy frowned at him, “You both completely ignored me all day! I tried to get your attention so many times!”

Techno raised an eyebrow, “I never once heard you call my name,”

“Me either,” Wilbur confirmed, Tommy looked skeptical.

“How do I know that you guys aren’t messing with me?”

“He’s got you guys there,” Phil said from the driver's seat.

“We weren’t ignoring him! I swear, you must have gotten us mixed up again!” Wilbur insisted, waving his hand.

Tommy groaned, “Why is it so hard to tell you guys apart! Hey, could you just make it easier and not be identical twins?”

Phil cackled in the front, gripping the steering wheel tighter.

“It-It doesn’t work like that Tommy,” Techno snorted, half covering his mouth with his hand.

“Oh come on! Just try it!”

Tommy was trying, he really was, but it was so hard to tell them apart. He knew Wilbur’s hair was crazier and he was Taller then Techno and that Techno had glasses but it didn’t help at all.

He’d go to ask Techno for help with homework only to find Wilbur, who also didn’t know jackshit about algerbra, or if he wanted to do something stupid he’d end up accidentally telling his plan to Techno who would immediately veto the idea.

After awhile he just decided to just try and slow down and see if one of the clones had glasses or not and that worked for him, sort of.

A few months later and they officially adopted Tommy into the family, he was an official Wingraft.

They went out and celebrated, laughing and making stupid jokes, it was nice. Then the next day Techno went to the store by himself, taking some of the money he had saved up from chores and searched a bottle of pink hair dye.

Picking out a color was surprisingly difficult, there were so many choices, taffy, bubblegum, creamy, carnation, but he eventually decided on ‘Rose Pink’. He bought a bottle then hid it under his bed, he needed to wait for the right time to do it because the dye had to sit for at least 30 minutes before he could rinse it out.

Phil was working late on Wednesday and Wilbur was going to see a movie with friends after school so he just had to lock Tommy out of the bathroom for like 45 minutes, which he would have no problem doing, and everything would be set.

The day rolled around and he found out that dying your hair is easier said then done, so much easier.

Techno set down so many paper towels in hopes to catch anything that might drip, then there was the process of making sure he got it all and wearing the plastic gloves made everything much harder to handle but eventually he was able to get the dye in place.

He set a timer on his phone then pulled out a book, hoping Tommy wouldn’t try to bust down the door, it didn’t lock but Techno had taken a rubber band from the door handle and wrapped it around the facut to try and give some semblance of a lock. All he had to do was wait.

Tommy was sitting on the couch watching TV when Phil arrived home, Wilbur in tow.

“Hey Tommy, how was your day?”

“Pretty good, nothing really interesting happened though,” He responded, “But Techno has been in the bathroom for like an hour,”

Wilbur raised an eyebrow and Phil asked, “Is he okay?”

“I guess so, I heard the shower running just a minute ago,”

Phil walked over to the bathroom door and knocked, “Tech? You okay in there?”

Tommy heard the door swing open and Techno say, “Yeah I’m fine,” Phil didn’t say anything but Wilbur started laughing loudly, throwing his head back. Tommy turned around on the couch and saw Techno standing there, towel around his shoulders to stop water from dripping onto his shirt, hair the brightest shade of pink Tommy had ever seen.

He froze, much like Phil did, before he broke out into a grin, then a laugh, “Techno what-”

“Now you should be able to tell us apart,”

#minecraft #mcyt #minecraft youtubers #tommyinnit #wilbur soot #philza #sleepyboysinc #sleepy boys inc #technoblr #technoblade #fanfiction #fluff #family dynamics #foster care #sleppyblr #Apples Writing #Finding a Home AU

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alwaysfeelingsaintlike · 3 years

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Driving Me Mad [G.W] - Part 2

Series Description: You and George come up with a plan to pretend to date each other. But what happens when you actually start to catch feelings...

Pairing: George Weasley x Gryffindor fem!reader

Word Count: 2k

Part 1

Description: After an unexpected breakup, you and George formulate a plan to incite jealousy in detention.

“Morning babe,” you said as you planted a kiss on Roger’s cheek. You took a seat next to him and started building your plate with breakfast items. His mouth was full and he managed to spit out a greeting.

“Where were you last night? I thought you would’ve been at the party,” you asked casually.

“I just got carried away with some studying and I forgot,” he said. It sounded a little rehearsed but you didn’t question it.

“Well, you didn’t miss much. Although, I did get caught heading back to the common room. Detention on Thursday.”

“Mmm.”

“Are you okay? I feel like something’s bothering you.”

“I’m fine,” he said, shoveling more food into his mouth.

“So, I’ve been thinking. For the Yule Ball I might get a navy blue or a purple dress. So don’t get your dress robes until I pick one out. I just wanna make sure we match.”

“Y/N, you’re getting ahead of yourself. The Yule Ball is still months away.”

“I know, I just can’t help but be excited! And I want us to look perfect.”

Roger slammed his fork down on the table and sighed, “You’re making this so difficult.”

“What?”

He grabbed your hand and pulled you out to the Entrance Hall. “Look, I didn’t want to do this right now, but...” he spoke.

“Roger, what are you talking about?” you grabbed his arm and looked him in the eye, thinking no good could come of this.

“I…I think we should break up.”

You were speechless, unable to process what he had just said. This was the last thing you expected.

“Please don’t be too upset. It’s nothing you did. I just…I’ve found myself interested in someone else and that’s not fair to you.”

“…Someone else?” you asked, holding back tears.

“I’m sorry. I never meant for this to happen.”

“We can work through this Roger. It doesn’t have to be the end,” you pleaded.

He merely shook his head, kissed your cheek, and walked away. You sat on the staircase and realized things were really over. You felt heartbroken, but mostly blindsided. You knew you were never going to marry Roger, but you didn’t have any serious relationship issues. Things were always great between you.

You sat there a while longer, waiting to see if someone would find you or if your emotions would change but nothing happened. You went about your day, attending classes, as if nothing had changed even though you were hurting on the inside.

You arrived at McGonagall's office ten minutes before your detention was to start. You sat there, waiting for George to arrive and a few minutes later he dashed into the room, out of breath and took a seat next to you.

“Excellent, now that you are both here, we can begin your punishment. This evening, you will be polishing the trophies in the Trophy Room, by hand. Once every trophy has been polished and is up to my standard, you may go.” She summoned rags and polishing liquid for you and sent you to the trophy room. You walked in silence to begin with but you knew it would be a long evening if it kept up like this.

“I’m sorry. About what I said the other night,” he said as he started on the first trophy.

“Don’t be sorry. You were right. I have been a bit of a bitch to you. I’m sorry I’ve treated you so poorly all these years.”

“S’okay,” he mumbled casually.

“I don’t know how it got this way. I just caught up in unimportant aspects of life. I guess I wanted to be popular and now look where that got me.”

“I heard about Roger and Fleur.”

“Fleur? That's who left me for? Bloody hell, my life keeps getting worse and worse.”

“Sorry, I thought you knew…” he muttered.

“Is everyone talking about it?” you asked him seriously.

“I…I only overheard it from some Gryffindor girls. That’s all I know about it.”

“Yeah, word spreads so fast here, I can’t say I’m surprised.” You moved past him to work on the next trophy. “The worst part is, I still want him back.” You caught yourself before you revealed any more. “Sorry. I’m sure you don’t want to hear any of this,” you chuckled.

“No, it’s okay. We used to be friends at one point. You can tell me things. But if you want my opinion, you can do better than Davies.”

“Hardly, he’s the school’s most eligible bachelor, behind Cedric and maybe Harry Potter now that he’s been crowned champion.”

“So what’s your plan then? How are you gonna get him back?”

“I…I don’t know. How can I complete with Fleur? She’s part veela for God’s sake.”

“That doesn’t mean anything. You’re just as beautiful as she is. Plus I guarantee you have a better personality.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Absolutely. You’re actually funny, and you have a toughness to you which means you can stand up for yourself. Fleur’s more…delicate, fragile.”

“And since when do boys look for personality in a girl?”

“Personality is the biggest factor in looking for a lass to bring home. Guys want someone who is confident and comfortable in their own skin, and who can actually talk about things other than clothes and makeup. Someone real. And you have that quality.”

“No offense, George, but I don’t think Roger dated me because I’m ‘real’.”

“Perhaps you should be questioning your taste in men, then.” You pondered this when he added, “Do you really want to get back with Davies?”

“Yes.” At least, you thought you did.

“Then you have to get back at him.”

“What did you have in mind?”

“You gotta get even. He has a new girl, so you can’t try and win him back. Instead, you have to make him jealous.”

“Okay, okay. I see where you’re going with this. But with who?”

“That I don’t really know. Probably someone who is well known by everyone, but different than your usual type. Someone unexpected; someone who will shock everyone. Who that is, I’m not sure.”

You stopped cleaning your trophy and looked at him, a sly smile creeping onto your face. The gears were turning in your head and there was no turning back now. He questioned the look on your face and said, “What…you know someone?”

You nodded and said, “Oh I know someone alright…”

“Who?” he asked. You didn’t say anything. Instead you let your smile grow a little bit and tilted your head, hoping he would pick up what you were putting down. It took him a moment but you saw his face change when he realized who you were talking about.

“No, no absolutely not,” he said, shifting his attention to the latest trophy he was polishing.

“Oh come on. You’re perfect. Everyone knows you, and loves you for that matter. We run in different circles so it would be totally unexpected, yet we’ve known each other for years so it’s believable.”

“Y/N, this is crazy.”

“Is it really that crazy? This whole thing was your idea and I actually think it could work.”

“Okay, say I do agree to this. What’s in it for me?”

“Easy. You can get the attention of a certain girl on the Gryffindor quidditch team that I know you have your eye on. Act like an awesome boyfriend to me and she’ll be more inclined to date you. And we’ll get to spend more time together. Just the other day you said you wanted to hang out more-“

“I did not say that. I said ‘we haven’t talked in a while.’”

“Still, I make a compelling argument. So what do you say?”

He didn’t look at you; he continued to polish the already spotless trophy in front of him. You walked over to him and put your head on his shoulder. “Come on, look at how cute we are together,” you looked at your reflection in the trophy and he did the same. “And you know it’ll be fun,” you said, shooting him a winning smile. “Help me out here and I’ll owe you a favor. Or five.” You hoped your last statement might set him over the edge.

He sighed, “Okay fine.”

“Really!?” you chirped.

“But on one condition, an easy out clause. If at one point, either of us wants to end things, we end things. No questions asked.”

“That sounds perfectly reasonable. But, I just want you to know that I don’t half-ass anything. If we’re doing this it has to be believable. We have to be attached at the hip; inseparable.”

“This takes commitment from both sides. You can’t go around making out with other guys if we’re supposed to be a couple.”

“You have my word I will not make out with anyone while our fake fling is going on.”

“Then I’m in.” He held out his pinkie and you interlocked yours with his, making this deal quasi-official.

“You really are something else Y/N,” he laughed. You continued working through your punishment and you made the best of it. Somehow you forgot how funny George was. You were laughing at almost everything he said and every now and then you would send a joke or a funny comment his way. You kind of forgot what it felt like to laugh.

The laughing made the mundane task go by much quicker. You weren’t sure how much time had actually passed but a moment later you were polishing the last trophy.

“Looks like it’s time to call McGonagall in for approval,” he said. She closely inspected every cup and plaque and gave you the okay that you could head back to the tower.

“Any plans for tonight?” he asked as you started your trek.

“Probably just catching up on school work tonight. What about you?”

“I have some business to attend to…” he said.

“Wow, vague.”

“I can’t spill all my secrets to you just yet.”

You reached the common room and you gathered your books and started working on your latest essay as George disappeared, probably up to no good.

“Still up?” George asked you as he found a spot next to you on the couch a few hours later.

“Yep. Trying to be as productive as possible. What about you? Finish up with that business?”

“Ah yes, it went quite successfully.”

“Let me guess…another prank? Who was it this time, Filch or a group of first years?”

“We decided to mix it up this time and go with some Slytherins.”

“Ah, a justifiable prank. Well done.”

“So have you thought about how we’re pulling off this ultimate plan?” he asked.

“What do you mean?” you hoped he wasn’t backing out.

“Like, are we doing this gradually or just going full force?”

“Well, what do you think is more believable?”

“Personally, I think we need some sort of build up. Instead of just emerging as a couple, we should build the suspense. Make people speculate.”

“Okay, I can agree with that. So right now we just need to do a lot of public appearances. Nothing overly touchy or flirty, just spending time together.”

“Excellent. I just wanted to check with you before telling Fred about the situation.”

“Wait, what? You…you can’t tell him about our arrangement.”

“Y/N, he’s my twin brother and my best friend. I can’t hide anything from him.”

“No, no, no. You can’t tell him. He is a key player in this situation. His reaction to us needs to be genuine.”

“I tell him everything. I feel like he’ll know something’s up if I don’t say something.”

You paused for a moment, as you realized you weren’t being fair. “Look, I know that I’m asking a lot of you, but please don’t tell Fred. At least not yet. Please.”

He looked at you with a pained expression and said, “Okay, if that’s what you want.”

“Thank you, George. Now go get some sleep and I’ll see you at breakfast.”

#george weasley #george weasley x reader #george weasley x you #fred weasley #weasley twins #george weasley x fem!reader #george weasley x gryffindor!reader #george weasley fanfic #weasley twins fanfic #fred and george weasley #hp fanfic #drive me crazy #george wealey oneshot

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beomglocks · 4 years

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unlikely allies ; txt x reader

part: zero, ,,,next chapter

plot: when a zombie apocalypse breaks out in your town, you're forced to team up with a group of boys from very different social standards in your school.

genre: fluff, angst, horror i guess?, not really that scary but alright, some funny moments

w/c: 3.3K

warnings: blood, gruesome scenes (kind of really detailed), cursing, everyone hates each other, definitely some major injuries, zombies duh, everyone kinda pining for mc

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"yeonjun you're late...again," your history teacher sighs. you watch as choi yeonjun strolls into class like normal. "sorry teach, i didn't really wanna come."

yeonjun is the school's heartthrob. everyone likes him, at least you think everyone likes him. you wouldn't say you like him but you can see why people would. he's an asshole but a cute asshole. he really doesn't care for his studies and treats people like they owe him something.

you roll your eyes at his answer and decide to focus on the roll call for when your name is called. "choi soobin?" you see a boy with purple hair raise his hand silently. you hear yeonjun snicker from the back of the class. you watch soobin turn around to glare at the other.

"something funny choi?" he seethes. yeonjun raises an eyebrow at soobin, leaning forward in his seat, "yeah something sure is funny."

soobin gets out of his seat and strides up to yeonjun's seat, easily towering over the boy. he grabs the collar of yeonjun's hoodie and lifts him up so that he's standing face to face.

"why don't you laugh in my face then?" soobin challenges. yeonjun looks bored, not even the slightest intimidated by the taller boy.

"ha. ha .ha." he annunciates each word mockingly, smiling in soobin's face.

the next thing you know the two boys are the floor fighting one another. "hey hey hey!" your teacher runs from the front of the class to the back to break up the fight. there's already a small crowd around them and no one seems adamant on helping break the fight up.

the thing is, choi soobin and choi yeonjun are known to fight a lot. you're not sure why they hate each other so much but every time they're near each other fists start flying. who thought putting these two in a class together was a good idea.

soobin was a quiet boy, everyone knew that. somedays he'd come dressed like the fluffiest cat you'd ever seen and sometimes he'd dress like a total greaser. he could just switch up like that; just like his attitude. he was nice, from what you knew he would always participate in extracurricular activities and charity events around the school. however, because people thought he was soft they would always mess with him. he was always able to hold his own though.

"hey break it up!" you hear your teacher shout. the two boys were in their own minds continuously throwing punches at each other. you were still sat at your desk, not really caring for fights between two stupid alpha males.

your teacher somehow manages to pull soobin from yeonjun and hold him back while a friend of yeonjun's holds him back as well. both boys have a good amount of blood on their faces so you can't really tell who won.

"you're fucking weak soobs! that shit barely hurt," yeonjun teases. he has blood trailing down his hairline from when soobin pushed him to the ground and blood on his nose and around his pouty lips. "bold talk for someone who just got their ass beat," soobin spits. he too has blood on his nose and lips but he's also sporting a cut on his cheekbone, yeonjun must've scratched his face.

"enough! yeonjun go to the nurse's room to get fixed up and soobin straight to the principal's office, you'll go to nurse after he's done, you hear me!" your history teacher orders. you watch her look around the room for someone suitable enough to escort yeonjun to the nurse's office.

you silently pray that she doesn't pick on you but seeing as you were the only one not interested in the drama, her eyes fall on you. "y/n please escort yeonjun to the nurse's office, i frankly don't trust him to actually go there on his own."

you curse at her in your mind but stand up anyways. "no problem," you force a light smile.

you and yeonjun leave the class ahead of soobin. as you're walking down the hallway, you glance at yeonjun. he doesn't look angry, if anything he looks calm. "i know i'm hot but stop staring at me," he looks down at you.

you roll your eyes at him. "do you not talk? come to think of it... i didn't even know you were in my class," yeonjun looks at you quizically but with curiosity in his eyes. you know that if you don't answer him he'll keep pestering you. "we've been in the same class for the past four years," you mutter.

you can feel his eyes on you but thankfully he doesn't say anything. while you two are walking through the halls you see a boy on the floor playing with something. "what's that kid doing over there?" yeonjun asks. he's already starting to walk away from you but you grab his sweater.

"sorry yeonjun but our only destination is the nurse's office," you say to him. he looks at you with his eyes narrowed down at where you're grabbing him. you stumble back as he yanks his arm away from your grasp, striding towards the boy. you huff following him.

"hey loser, what you got there?" yeonjun looks down at the boy. the boy turns around with confusion laced on his features. he sighs, "what do you want?" he pouts.

when you reach the boy you recognize him as choi beomgyu. the kid is smart but only when he wants to be. he's in your science class and is always messing around and not actually ever doing the work. either that or he skips class to run off and experiment with random things. he's a nice guy and you sometimes ask him for help during labs since he's probably the smartest kid in your class.

"hey beomgyu, what's up?" you greet him. he turns towards you and smiles warmly. "hey y/n," yeonjun looks between the both of you and rolls his eyes. "what the hell are you doing with one of the baseball teams bats?"

beomgyu moves the bat behind him and glares at yeonjun, "i was just curious as to what makes it so hard-hitting. i've been craving my way into it but can't seem to get too far."

you crouch next to him, "maybe you should've picked up one of the metal ones. i'm pretty sure the wood ones only have wood in them. though i heard they're made with bamboo so," you shrug. beomgyu stares at you silently.

"y-yeah you're probably right...thanks y/n," beomgyu snaps out of his daze and pockets the butterfly knife he was previously using. yeonjun tsks, "cmon y/n, let's go i already lost interest." yeonjun pulls you along as you watch beomgyu wave and head to the auditorium.

"god why did we have to take the long route this is fucking boring," yeonjun complains. you sigh, hoping he'll shut up already. "do you ever not talk?" you ask him. you both are too busy glaring at each other that you don't see when someone bumps into you.

the person drops the pile of books they were holding in their hands. "ah shit," they mumble. you snap out of glaring at yeonjun to see a boy on the floor with books scattered around him. "shit im sorry! i should've been looking at where i was going," you apologize kneeling down to help the boy pick up his books.

"oh don't worry i shouldn't have taken up carrying so many books to the point where i couldn't see!" the boy's voice is so cheerful it makes you smile. you're glad he's not mad at you.

the boy is really cute too. his boyish features suit his face well and his hair is messy but looks like he stylized it that way. he's dressed comfortably in a huge sweater and baggy jeans with a molang keychain attached to one of the belt loops.

"where are you even going with all these books?" you ask. "i offered to take these back to the library for my english teacher, in hindsight i really should've just taken two or three not the whole stack." he chuckles sheepishly. he gets up, picking up as many as he can.

you pick up the rest and set them on top of the already tall stack lightly. "well good luck," you pat the stack in encouragement and it makes him lean forward a bit. he thanks you and makes his way down the hall once again.

you turn to yeonjun who was leaning against the wall watching you. "seeing you being nice to everyone is making me want to choke," he grimaces. "take notes choi."

it felt like forever since you arrived at the nurse's office. walking with yeonjun was really torture to you since he wouldn't shut up about how amazing he thinks he is.

once you walk in you both notice that the nurse isn't at her usual place at the front desk. "she went out to get more ice from the cafeteria," you hear someone speak. you both turn around and see a boy sat on one of the cots the nurse sets up for people who injure themselves.

the boy is kang taehyun, member of the baseball team. "hey tae!" yeonjun greets. taehyun raises his brow and moves the now melted ice bag from his wrist. "what's got you in here?" yeonjun asks sitting on the cot across from taehyun.

"i'd rather you not act like we're friends," taehyun states calmly. "but if you must know, i was practicing my swings and got a little too caught up. i barely noticed that i sprained my wrist." he looks down at his wrist which is slightly swollen.

kang taehyun was the baseball team's most prized possession. they really did cherish him because he was the ace of the team. he always scored home runs and when he was pitching, he always managed to get the batter to strike out. he was really talented no one could deny that. despite his hard work on the field, he was dedicated to his studies and was always at the top of all his classes. you wondered how he felt about spraining possibly the most important part of his body.

"damn, that must suck," yeonjun states, he doesn't sound apologetic at all and you wonder how that guy could have any friends. "im just here to get patched and cleaned up because that dickhead soobin decided this was fight club," he tsks. taehyun chuckles, "hope he knocked some sense into you." yeonjun rolls his eyes.

taehyun finally notices your presence by the front desk and motions you over to them by the cots. he's friendly but not someone you'd normally hang out with. "you don't look hurt?" he chides. you point to yeonjun, "i was asked to bring him here since our teacher didn't trust him to come here and well, actually arrive. since the nurse isn't here im guessing I'll have to stick around in case he tries to escape."

taehyun chuckles, "makes sense."

the room is quiet for a couple of moments, save for the ticking of the clock on the wall. you feel awkward being around two of the biggest names at your school. yeonjun is sprawled out on the cot and taehyun is still cradling his wrist. "uh...when do you think the nurse will be here?" you ask quietly.

taehyun looks up at you, "well when you got here it had been about 15 minutes since she left. she probably took a detour or something?" you nod looking at his wrist once again. "you should probably wrap that in a gauze, it'll help with the swelling," you suggest. he smiles at you, "thanks...uh?"

"y/n"

"right thanks y/n," he stands up and walks over to the cabinet to find the gauze wrap. in the meantime, you turn to yeonjun. it looks like he's sleeping but being in a class with him for 4 years has taught you better. "yeonjun."

he doesn't move. "yeonjun get up, i know you're not sleeping," you try. he sits up with a groan, "what do you want? i barely know you." for some reason you feel rage bubble up inside of you. you're not sure why either. usually, you were fine with not being noticed by the "so-called" popular kids but because of yeonjun, you were stuck in the nurse's office watching over him like a babysitter.

"why the hell did you fight soobin? if it wasn't for you i wouldn't be here talking to you right now," you say through gritted teeth. yeonjun raises an accusing brow at you, "were you not watching the fight? he threw the first punch for fucks sake." "you provoked him," you retort.

"it's not my fault he's dumb, god do i have to take responsibility for that too?" he groans laying back down on the cot. you eye him but decide to leave the conversation at that.

after your mini argument with yeonjun, you see taehyun return with the gauzes already wrapped around his wrist. "this is much better," he smiles down at his wrist. "glad i could help," you smile at him.

silence falls upon you three again until you hear a groan from outside. it doesn't really sound like a groan a human could possibly make, it sounds way to pained and low. "what was that?" taehyun asks. you shrug, "it might be the nurse." you walk over to the door and take a look outside.

the hallways on both sides are dimly lit and desolate. you can't really see down the hall because it just fades to black. you walk back inside the nurse's office. "there's no one out there and honestly, it looks way too cree-," you're cut off as a shrill scream rips through your conversation.

yeonjun sits straight up this time, "what the hell was that?" taehyun's eyes are wide with alarm, "that scream did not sound like a happy scream."

your eyes dart back and forth from yeonjun to taehyun. "i swear when i looked outside there was nothing," you say hurriedly. you're not sure why you feel panicked but you do. "check again," yeonjun tells you. you want to tell him 'no' or 'do it yourself' but you were the one to check first so you figure a second check done by you is only fair.

sighing, you walk to the door once again and look into the halls. for the second time, you don't see anything except for the darkness of the long hallways but you peer further and notice something.

all the way near the end of the hallway you see the nurse running towards her office. "hey i see the nurse," you call out to the boys. they make noises of acknowledgment and you hear yeonjun mumble a 'finally'. you keep watching her but you notice that she's running quite frantically to be considered normal. you don't say anything watching her run towards the office with confusion laced on your face.

that's when you see it. you see a figure running almost at the same speed as her but with more of a limp in their step. that's when you can hear the groaning more clearly but it's not coming from the nurse, its coming from the figure behind her.

the nurse makes the fatal mistake of tripping over her heels because she's running so wildly. her body slides a couple of feet from the door but she struggles to stand. she looks up at you and you can see that she has sweat and blood all over her face and her hair is unruly and matted.

"h-help me please!" she calls out to you. your heart is beating intensely. you don't know why she looks like this but you want to help. "y/n?" you hear taehyun call out to you. "what's going on out there?"

you bite your lip and decide to help her but as soon as you step out of the office the limping figure lurches forward and pounces on the nurse's idle body on the floor. you let out a horrified scream and step back. you can see the 'limping figure' clearer now and it seems to be one of the lunch ladies.

the only thing was that she didn't look the way she did when she served you breakfast this morning. her skin was pale and her veins were strangely very visible throughout her face and arms. her uniform was tattered and ripped as if a struggle of some sort had taken place. her face had deep scratches that had drying blood pouring out of them. her eyes were not warm, they seemed to be greyed out and she seemed very rabid.

you stood there, horrified, as the lunch lady tore through the nurse's clothes and body. you wanted to throw up as a bit of the nurse's blood was unintentionally launched at you. the lunch lady dipped her head down to use her teeth to devour the nurse's flesh in cold blood. you couldn't even rack up a sob.

it was like something out of a horror movie. except this was real life.

before the lunch lady could even finish eating the nurse, you watched as the nurse's body convulsed and thrashed violently before standing up on her own. her head was hung low and she seriously smelled disgusting.

you felt stuck as you watched both women stumble towards you before breaking out in full sprints. you flinched and shut your eyes tightly as you waited for your life to flash before them. it really felt like at any moment you would find yourself being eaten alive and convulsing into whatever monster that was.

but the feeling never came. instead, you felt your body crash against taehyun's on the floor. the only thing you could hear was the door slam shut and the screeching and groaning of whatever the hell those people were outside as they tried to get through the door.

you opened your eyes slowly and noticed that yeonjun was to one to slam the door shut, it seems like taehyun had pulled you inside.

taehyun groaned, moving to stand, "what the hell was that?" you shook your head, now having time to process what you saw. "she ate her...s-she- her body," you couldn't even finish explaining as you broke out in tears. taehyun ran a soothing hand up and down your back.

yeonjun moved away from the door. there was a tiny window on the door so you guys could see that the monsters were still trying to get in. "what the hell are we gonna do! if we go outside they'll tear us to shreds!" yeonjun too had tears streaming down his face. you have to admit you'd never seen him so vulnerable.

taehyun was the only one not crying. you could see tears in his wide eyes but they never fell. you figured he was trying to be the strong stable one in the group right now. "ok guys lets calm down. we don't know if we're the only people alive so we need to be careful." taehyun explains.

you do really feel bad for him right now. you know he's a year younger than you and yeonjun and him having to be the 'leader' at this moment must be tough.

he sighs looking at the both of you. "if we wanna make it out of here alive...we're gonna have to fight."

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fangirlovestuff · 4 years

Text

Worth It - Andy Barber x reader

a/n- Hey lovely people! this was written for @stargazingfangirl18 & @navybrat817 ‘s shameless hoes for chris challenge, and I can’t be happier that our baby Andy’s first appearance on this blog is for their challenge! thoughts are in italics and the prompt is in bold. also a disclaimer - i’ve never been to a singles mixer lol. Enjoy!<3

Prompts: We are the only two people at this god awful event who seemed to be utterly miserable, so let’s be miserable together & “Can you just not right now?”

Summary: you never believed in singles mixers, but something about this stranger might just change that...

Word count: ~2,570

Warnings: smut!!, explicit language. please don’t read if you are uncomfortable with those things!

Your eyes wandered around the room for the umpteenth time that night. It was packed full of people who were talking to one another, mostly paired up, usually leaning towards each other. Lashes were flattered, muscles were subtly flexed, arms brushed "accidentally". The usual joys of a singles mixer.

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes. Why the fuck did you let your friend convince you to come with her? She was currently talking to some douchebag in a suit that was clearly rented to make him look fancier but didn't even fit him that well. You had a sense of admiration for her for being optimistic enough to believe she'll find a guy in these things.

You, however, didn't share that sentiment. You hung out close to the bar, downing a couple of drinks and quickly shutting down any attempt any male has made to talk to you. About five minutes after you got here you realized there wasn't anyone there who looked like they could fit you. Who knows, maybe your taste in men was a bit much, but you certainly wouldn't lower your standards for the men in that room.

Now, forty minutes later, you were just about ready to bail, but you didn't want to leave your friend alone. So, you just sat there, fumbling with your phone, hoping your friend would soon realize how pointless this was.

As you were ordering another drink, you caught the door opening slightly from the corner of your eye. Probably someone who's late. Although you couldn't fathom what was the point of arriving to these things late. To be fair, you couldn't fathom the reason to be at these things at all.

Sure, you wanted to find love. But you had pretty much given up on the idea that there was someone out there for you. That was a bit of a naïve notion in your opinion, the search for true love. Anyway, you did fine on your own, it's not like you needed a man in your life.

Doesn't mean you didn't want one though.

You drowned that thought and the extra drink you had just gotten. You should probably cut back on the drinks; you don't want to be hungover the next day.

You suddenly realized someone was coming to lean on the bar beside you. He ordered a drink, deep voice reaching your ears despite the chatter in the room. You lifted your head from your phone to look at the stranger from the corner of your eye. He shrugged the suit jacket off his shoulders and sat down.

Damn, he definitely wasn't here before. Probably the one who just got in, you realized. You looked at his handsome profile, brown hair that seemed soft to touch, and a suit that actually fit his quite broad frame.

Maybe this night isn't gonna be such a waste after all. Sure, you didn't expect to fall in love, but it's been a while since you got laid. The stranger caused a tingly sensation inside you that made want to change that.

He looked over at you, blue eyes piercing into yours. You noticed the way his lashes cast a slight shadow on his cheekbones, and that beard was framing his face very nicely. There was really no other way to say it, he was hella hot.

"Can you just not right now?" he said suddenly and sighed. You raised your eyebrows and scoffed, diverting your gaze into your nearly empty glass and pursing your lips. Okay, never mind, asshole alert.

"I'm sorry," he said after a moment passed. "I'm just not really interested in meeting anyone right now. I saw you looking at me so—"

"Whatever," you cut him off, a little embarrassed he caught you ogling him. "If you aren't interested in anything, why are you even here?"

"A friend forced me into it. She basically pushed me through the door," he chuckled, sipping his drink.

A she friend. Maybe that's the reason he wasn't interested. "Well, I can't say I don't understand that," you sympathized, scouring the room in search of your friend again. You were just in time to catch her going out the door with that douche. "Shit," you muttered under your breath.

"Excuse me?" he asked, equal parts amused and puzzled.

"My friend just left with some jerk," you downed the rest of your drink, "and as the person who talked me into this shithole, that's rude of her," you sent a tight-lipped smile to the stranger. "So now I'm pretty much stranded here because she was my ride home." You opened your phone to order an Uber. You blamed the alcohol for making you overshare like this.

"Hey," the stranger said, "How about we have a drink and I could give you a ride home? Duffy threatened to wait outside for a half-hour to make sure I stay, and I have no doubt she's gonna make good on that," he smiled.

"Hmmm, excuse me if I'm not gonna jump on that offer, complete stranger I just met," you smirked.

"Oh, right, sorry. Where I come from everyone knows me," he said, surprisingly bitter. "I'm Andy," he smiled.

"Well, it's nice to meet you, Andy," you said and introduced yourself. "So, you're a celeb where you come from, huh? What do you do?"

"I'm- I was a lawyer. Right now, I'm looking for a job. And celeb isn't really the word I would use," he said in that bitter tone once more. You got the message – he really didn't want to talk about it.

"So is Duffy a lawyer too?" you changed the subject quickly.

"No, she's a cop, but we worked together sometimes," he said. "What about you, what do you do?"

You spent the next few minutes getting to know each other, the conversation flowing easily. He had more wit in his little finger than most people you met at these things had in their whole body. Smart's the new sexy, but it's not like he wasn't sexy enough as it is.

"So, how come your friend talked you into coming here and then left you?" he asked.

"Well, we're the only two of our friends who aren't married, or engaged or whatever, so everyone's nagging us to 'find someone'. She really thinks these things are the place where she could find her person. I, personally, think it's bullshit," you said and he chuckled. "But hey, the things you do for your friends," you shrugged.

"Yeah," he looked at you and smiled. He thought he was being subtle, but you noticed the way his eyes quickly moved to your cleavage, which was looking quite nice in this dress if you could say so yourself, and back to your face. Maybe not all hope for tonight was lost, you thought, and leaned forward a little.

"See that dude over there? What do you think he's saying to that poor girl?" you asked.

"He's probably telling her how romantic and chivalrous he is just to get into her pants," he shrugged and you chuckled. "What about that couple? What do you think they're talking about?" he asked.

"Oh, I'm so in love with you!" you said in a slightly high-pitched voice, imitating the girl, "Yeah, baby, me too," you said in a lower voice. "And then they'll move in together, break up and get into an ugly fight over who gets to keep the house," you finished your story and Andy laughed.

The conversation continued to flow, both of you making fun of some other people, but now it seemed you were both in a competition. It started with you leaning forward to bring your cleavage into view, but he caught on quickly, loosening his tie and unbuttoning the top button, his Adam's apple bobbing and god did that make you wanna suck on his neck.

You made the next move, crossing your legs in a way that you knew would make your dress ride up a little, exposing more skin. Andy visibly swallowed but you continued talking like you didn't notice. He rolled up his sleeves, and at this point, it was clear you both knew what you were doing. You were already hot and bothered, and he didn't even touch you yet, not even in the most innocent way.

"Well," Andy looked at his phone, "I think we're clear, Duffy must've gone home by now. Come on, let's go."

You got up and so did Andy, grabbing his jacket from the back of his chair.

When you went outside it was surprisingly cold. You shivered a bit and Andy noticed it from the corner of his eye, dropping his jacket over your shoulder. You smiled at him in thanks.

The drive was mostly filled with silence, besides you giving him directions to your house. It seemed you were both immersed in your own thoughts, but it was a comfortable silence. Your gaze fluttered on him once more. You noticed his hands on the steering wheel, more specifically the ring-shaped tan. Well, if he didn't wanna talk about it that's his prerogative.

"Here, you can pull over right there," you pointed to an empty parking spot across from your building.

"Do you want to come up and have a coffee? I gotta thank you for the ride home somehow," you smiled.

"Sure," he said and turned off the car, going out. You gave him his jacket back as you both entered the building.

The tension in the elevator could be cut with a knife. It seemed that once you were finally alone, your thoughts were running wild.

You finally reached your apartment, opening the door and showing Andy in. You turned to lock the apartment door behind you. "If you want you can leave your jacket—"

You turned back around and suddenly his lips were on yours, pushing hungrily. You felt his tongue licking slightly against your lips, seeking entrance you granted gladly, your tongue battling with his as you wrapped your arms around his neck. His hands wandered down your body, grabbing your ass and squeezing it lightly as you moaned into his mouth. He moved his hands to your hips lifting you up, and you wrapped your legs around his waist as you started to unbutton his shirt.

"Second door on the left," you parted your lips just long enough to rasp that out and then returned to feverishly kissing him once more.

He made his way to the bedroom, carrying you in his arms with little effort. He pushed you against the bedroom door and you reached to open it and then pushed his now unbuttoned shirt down from his shoulders. He groaned and put you down to finish getting rid of his shirt, while you quickly pushed your dress over your head, leaving you in your underwear.

Andy's breath hitched at the sight before his lips were back on you again, nipping at your collarbone, your jaw, your neck, while you reached to get rid of his belt, unzipping his pants. He stepped out of them and you started walking back towards the bed, a tangled mess of hands and lips colliding.

Once you were on the bed he reached to unclasp your bra, throwing it to the side and attaching his lips to your breast, swirling his tongue around your hardened nipple. You arched your chest against his mouth, nails gently scraping on his back as you clung to him. Almost without you noticing his hand trailed down to take off your underwear, fingers expertly teasing your clit as you ground against him, silently asking for more. He put two fingers inside you, the wet sound echoing in the room, and you would almost be embarrassed if it didn't feel so damn good.

Your lips found his neck, fulfilling your earlier wish and sucking on it, leaving a bite. You started palming him through his boxers, reaching a hand inside to stroke his length as he groaned into your neck. He pulled his finger out of you and before you managed to whimper at the loss, he captured your lips in his, devouring your mouth as he discarded his boxers.

You parted from him and reached into your bedside drawer to pull out a condom. He quickly slid it on and wasted no time pushing into you, bottoming out in one thrust. You gasped at the stretch, which quickly dissipated once he started moving, snapping his hips onto yours and making you cry out in pleasure.

You clenched around him, the coil in your stomach tightening, and his thrusts started becoming erratic as he brought his fingers to your clit once more, flicking it harshly until came around him with a scream of pleasure, milking him through his orgasm as well.

He stayed inside you, the both of you panting until he finally pulled out and went to throw the condom. You were too fucked out to whimper at the loss, only closing your eyes until you felt the bed dip beside you. Andy laid down beside you, tentatively wrapping an arm around you, to which you said nothing, only cuddled a bit into him.

The next morning you woke up to the smell of fresh coffee filling your senses. You were puzzled until you saw the discarded clothes and remembered the events of last night. Sighing in content, you got up, putting on a new pair of underwear and picking up Andy's shirt, leaving the few top buttons open as you made your way to the kitchen.

Andy was leaning against the countertop, shirtless with only his pants on, sipping a cup of coffee and scrolling on his phone, and didn't notice your soft footsteps.

"Good morning," you said softly, drawing his attention towards you. "Glad to see you've made yourself at home," you chuckled and came closer to him.

"Sorry," he said, averting his gaze, "I just really needed that coffee before the drive home. But there's more if you want some."

You thanked him and poured yourself a cup of coffee.

"So…" he started.

"So?" you smiled.

"I had a great time last night. The whole evening," he added quickly. "So… let me take you out sometime. On a date. Please," he smiled.

"I'd love that," you smiled at him.

You exchanged numbers and the rest of your breakfast went on uneventfully, until Andy had to go. "Can I have my shirt back?" he asked, grinning.

"Oh, I don't know," you said, pretending to contemplate it, "I'm pretty sure you look better without it."

You both laughed. You went to your room to change and gave him back the shirt.

"Have a nice drive home," you said. And then, in a surge of confidence, you kissed him, pushing your lips against his with passion. "One for the road," you smirked.

Andy smirked back, no doubt on board with your antics. "I'll call you," he said and opened the door, going into the hall.

"You better!" you called after him, a smile on your face as you watched him go into the elevator and out of sight.

You closed the door and leaned on it, lost in your thoughts like a schoolgirl in love, and then you realized – shit.

You had actually met a cute guy at a singles mixer. Your friends were never gonna let you live that down. Oh well, you thought, he seems like he's worth it.

hope you enjoyed!! whoosh i love andy barber so much ok bye

Chris Taglist: @swatson06 @horny-nd-bored @shannon124 @perfectlyharolds @phoebe-21-99 @wintersoldierslut @iceebabies @wanessalopesueiros @sleepingpapermouse @steverogerswasalwaysworthy @holtzkinnon @angelicl-y @stydia-4-ever @thatoneperson5000 @fangirlfree @kaitcordx25 @bequeening @steve-barry-damon-logan @itscrazycherryblossomcollection @hollandxmarvel @darkwitchfromthesouth

if you wanna join / be removed from the taglist, comment/message me! this is a taglist for Chris and his characters. much love <3

#shamelesshoesforchris #andy barber #andy barber x reader #chris evans #chris evans x reader #chris evans x female reader #chris evans smut #andy barber smut #andy barber fluff #chris evans fluff #defending jacob #andy barber x female reader #chris evans x y/n #andy barber x you #andy barber x y/n

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cyhyr · 3 years

Text

Whumpmas in July: Warmth

Fandom: Naruto

Rating: E

Pairing: Hatake Kakashi/Umino Iruka

WC: ~3940

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Notes: frottage, therapy, safewords, cockwarming, oral sex, past abuse, love confessions

A/N: So, y'all know about my wonderful problem with terrible interpretations of prompts... Oops? Anyway, we'll return to our regularly scheduled whump-fest in the next fic. I think.

Follows "Look At Me"

For @whumpmasinjuly prompt list

Read on The Archive

They’re on a mission together when the idea comes to him. And he knows Kakashi isn’t going to approve, nor will he be interested in trying it; but a man can dream and it’s just the two of them on the road for five days and Iruka can admit that there’s probably something messed up with his head that he wants this but he can’t help it.

He remembers often, giving Kakashi that blowjob, and how it made him feel. He enjoyed having Kakashi in his mouth for the time he managed it, before he went and fucked it up by giving Kakashi his hair. They lay near each other at night in the forest and huddle together and oftentimes Iruka feels the outline of Kakashi’s dick against his ass and it’s… it’s a lot.

In a good way.

Fuck, but he wants Kakashi.

He just… doesn’t know how to go about having him without also triggering himself. It wasn’t until he started seeing a therapist, his first session two weeks ago, that he realized how much Mizuki ruined sex for him. He already knew he was damaged goods, but he hadn’t realized how much.

But this idea he’s got…

Maybe.

They’re two days from Konoha, huddled together in a shallow cave while a storm rages just outside. They could have kept going—a little rain and wind never hurt anyone—but Kakashi seemed to jump on the chance to settle down for the night early, and led them here. Iruka set up intricate traps and barrier seals around the mouth of the cave, assuring both himself and Kakashi that only the truly desperate will get into their hiding spot, let alone know they’re here. They dry out hair and clothes (Kakashi’s control with katon is brilliant, like the rest of him) and are simply enjoying sitting next to each other in front of a small fire.

Their vests and pouches remain within easy reach—they are still on a mission.

Iruka leans against Kakashi’s shoulder, contently dozing in and out. Kakashi has an Icha Icha book open in his palm, but hasn’t turned the page in over fifteen minutes. Their silence is odd in that it’s comfortable, but only if Iruka doesn’t think about how long they’ve each been quiet.

Kakashi breaks. “Iruka?”

“Hmm?”

“You… you would tell me… if I was doing something wrong. Right?”

Iruka’s eyes snap open and his happy doze fades fast. He lifts his head and shifts to face Kakashi. “Yes, of course, but what is this about? What’s—?” He stops and glances away, “Have I done something wrong?”

Kakashi hums. “You’ve just been a little distant for most of this mission. Since we passed through that hamlet on our first evening. I just—I don’t—”

“Kakashi, no,” Iruka reaches out for his hands, but at the last inch stops. He knows what this is about now; of course Kakashi picked up on his odd mood, his being-lost-in-thought. “Can I hold your hands?”

Kakashi nods, his blush barely noticeable in the firelight.

“Kakashi,” Iruka starts again with his partner’s hands in his own, “I’m sorry for seeming distant. I had an idea and it’s been plaguing me, but I wanted to wait until we got home to talk about it. I also—um—kind of want to discuss it with my therapist first.”

Kakashi brings their hands up to his masked lips and kisses Iruka’s fingers. “You will tell me, though?”

Iruka nods. “I want to, very much so. But I also need to. To talk it out with Rikona-sensei.”

Kakashi accepts the answer and tugs Iruka closer, which he does willingly. Iruka takes initiative and leans into the space behind Kakashi’s ear and mutters, “Can I...?”

Hands pull him to straddle Kakashi’s lap while a groaned “Yes” rumbles against his chest. Iruka slips Kakashi’s mask down just enough to get to that sensitive spot and nips at it. Kakashi, at the same time, gently gropes and kneads his ass.

“I. Want. Uhh, there—Iruka, more. Still can’t believe you’re able to hide this ass in—ohh, fuck—standard uniform pants. Oh gods. Iruka.”

Iruka smiles against Kakashi’s neck as he reveals bare skin. He won’t pull down the mask entirely—that’s a limit Kakashi set and, gods, Kakashi’s so good at remembering his triggers that Iruka can do him the favor of remembering one limit. Kakashi is hard, and Iruka grinds down on his erection to get him to swear and squirm some more.

So long as Iruka stays on top, stays in control, these kinds of encounters don’t bother him. Mizuki never treated him like this, not exactly. The differences are enough.

He rolls his hips against Kakashi, a little faster, holding onto Kakashi’s shoulders for balance. “Kakashi,” he moans breathily, “wanna see you come.”

Kakashi pants. One hand leaves his ass and pulls down his mask, and then they’re kissing, mouths devouring each other and teeth clicking together. Iruka feels his own stirrings of arousal, finally, and groans deeper in his chest.

“Close,” Kakashi warns, breaking the kiss after a few minutes.

“Good. Why’s your hand not back on my ass?”

“I don’t. I mean.”

Iruka smirks and takes Kakashi’s hand, bringing it up to his face. Iruka normally likes Kakashi’s gloves. The texture, the smell, the implication of power… but tonight, he’s glad the gloves are off, over with their vests and pouches.

He slips Kakashi’s first finger into his mouth and hums.

“Oh, shit.”

He continues to hold Kakashi’s finger against his tongue until he’s finished and slumped forward, and then lets it slide free with a pop.

“Gods, Iruka,” Kakashi murmurs, wrapping his arms around him and pulling him as close as possible. “That was. Wow.”

Iruka giggles and replaces Kakashi’s mask, and then cards his fingers through silver hair. “Very articulate.”

Kakashi hums. He’s still glowing, and won’t want to be coherent for a few minutes.

“Can I return the favor?” he mutters against Iruka’s neck. Even during the afterglow, Kakashi thinks of him; it’s sweet.

Iruka says, “No thanks. I started to get there, but just wasn’t… y’know.”

Kakashi sighs. “Still wanna kill him.”

“I know. I appreciate the sentiment.”

He whines. “It’s not fair that I get all the orgasms in this relationship.”

Iruka laughs outright. “Even though I’m okay with giving them to you? And also not asking for reciprocation?”

Kakashi nuzzles him. “Wanna see you come, too,” he murmurs.

Someday.

“It’s good that you feel ready to take steps to move forward. But what steps are you prepared to take to prevent an episode?”

“Well, I thought a lot about it on the way home. Mizuki would always come to my place, so I thought first maybe a change in scenery will help—I’m gonna ask if we can do this at Kakashi’s place.”

“That’s a start. But many of your triggers are auditory.”

“And Kakashi’s never said anything to tip me into an episode since our, uh, second disaster. I trust him.”

“Trust is important. What else?”

“I’m also going to heavily condition my hair, and brush it out. So in case Kakashi snags it accidentally it won’t pull. I’m… I’m also going to request that he wash up beforehand. He and Mizuki smell… too similar, right now. I don’t want to risk it.”

“What about position?”

“That’s something I will need to discuss with Kakashi. I can’t—I can’t be on my knees for this, that’s just asking for an episode.”

“I agree. May I also suggest the two of you discuss hand signals for safe-words? You won’t be able to talk, after all.”

“Yes. I hadn’t thought of that. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. I’m glad you have put so much thought into this.”

“I just need to prove to us I can move past this.”

“Hmm. Well, we’ve gone over time by ten minutes, but I think it’s worth it. I truly hope this works out for you, Iruka-sensei.”

Iruka is scrubbing the cabinet faces in his kitchen, waiting for Kakashi to get back from another mission. They’d gotten back, and the next day his partner had been sent out again—he had been angry at first, at the Counsel for requiring so much from Kakashi, and at himself for not understanding immediately that Kakashi requested the mission to give Iruka a little bit more time and space to work out that “odd” thought.

He’s worked it out. He talked it out with Rikona-sensei. He’s as prepared as he can be.

That’s why he’s cleaning.

Iruka can admit that he’s terrified this will go wrong. Against all of his thoughtful preparation, he could still dissociate. The more he goes under, the more likely it becomes that he just won’t resurface. Or he could resurface, but with new triggers—new ones relating to Kakashi instead of Mizuki.

Worst of all, Kakashi could just outright deny him and not even try. Iruka’s not sure how that situation would go, but it probably won’t be good.

At least. At least Kakashi’s due back today. He shouldn’t have to—

“Hello dear,” comes a voice from his kitchen window.

Iruka doesn’t hide the smile Kakashi’s voice drags out of him. He looks up from his spot on the floor and watches as his partner slinks through the window and over the sink and counter to join him on the floor.

“Sandals,” Iruka says. Kakashi takes his off and leaves to go put them in the genkan, and is back at his side quickly.

“You’re cleaning,” Kakashi comments. “Rough day with the ankle-biters?”

Iruka laughs. “No, nothing like that. I quite like this class, actually.”

“Then…?”

Iruka sets aside his sponge and sighs, standing up. “Right. Let me put this away, and then. Then we can talk.”

He leaves the room, taking as long as he dares knowing Kakashi is standing, arms crossed, in his kitchen. He dumps dirty water down the shower drain, sets the sponge in the bathroom sink to dry, and puts the bucket away in the bottom of the linen closet.

One more bracing breath, and then he leaves the bathroom.

“Okay.” He comes back into the kitchen; Kakashi hasn’t moved. “Would you like to sit?”

Kakashi holds a hand up. “First, please?” Iruka nods and gestures for him to speak. “Are you breaking up with me?”

“No.” Iruka’s proud of how even his tone is. “You may want to consider it, after this, but I don’t… it’s not what I want.”

Kakashi takes the chair beside Iruka’s usual one, and pulls down his mask. “I highly doubt whatever you have to say is going to change my feelings for you.”

Iruka sits. Smiles. “That’s sweet, but hold your judgement until you’ve heard me out.”

Kakashi leans forward and reaches out for his hands. Iruka gives them to him, letting Kakashi entwine their fingers together on the tabletop.

“I have something I want to try,” Iruka starts. “And I’ve given it a lot of thought, how to go about it without worrying about triggering an episode.”

Kakashi sits up a little straighter. “What do you want?”

Iruka’s face heats up, and he looks away for a moment to collect himself. “I… okay, so. I—before I fucked up that last time, when I was blowing you—”

“We agreed that it was both of our faults,” Kakashi glowers. “If you want to take any of the blame, I get an equal amount for being the instigating party.”

“Right. Sorry—”

“Iruka.”

Iruka closes his eyes and bites his lip. Deep breath. “Thank you, Kakashi, for reminding me.”

Kakashi brings his hand up to kiss his fingers. “You’re welcome. I’d like to hear more, but not if you’re going to be self-deprecating.”

“I. Yes. Okay. I can… I’ll try.”

Kakashi replaces their hands on the table and waits.

“So, the blowjob. When I was. Before I dissociated.” Iruka flushes hard. “I really enjoyed that.”

“As did I. But you also said that your performing oral sex is off limits, because of your trauma. Has that changed?” Kakashi is trying not to look excited, but Iruka can see the spark in his eye.

“Not exactly. I’d like to try something, um. Blowjob-adjacent?”

Kakashi waits.

“I’d like you to consider. Letting me… um.” Oh just thinking about it is getting his heart racing; his breathing speeds up.

“Iruka, are you with me?”

“Yes,” he answers immediately. “I’m not—slipping. It’s. Fuck,” he takes one hand back from Kakashi and presses his palm to his forehead. He decides to spit it all out as fast as he can. “I want your cock in my mouth again, but I want to just. Hold it. Does that make—”

Kakashi’s chair screeches as he pushes back from the table. He comes around the corner of the table and kneels in front of Iruka, looking up at him reverently. “You would do that for me?” he whispers.

Iruka puts his free hand against Kakashi’s cheek. “You’re the one who’d be doing me a favor,” he smirks. “I want this, Kakashi.”

“Now?”

Iruka shakes his head. “I mean, yes, but not-not here. And I have some preparation steps for both of us, to help prevent the chance of an episode.”

“Anything.”

Two hours later, it’s late and dark, and Iruka stands outside of Kakashi’s apartment door. The jōnin barracks are sparse, as most shinobi who attain this rank either are part of a clan, make enough to purchase their own quarters, or find better housing with spouses or roommates. As it is, Kakashi is the only one living on his floor, and has been able to secure the apartments above and below him to stay empty as well.

Iruka knocks. He doesn’t have to wait long for Kakashi to open the door.

“Hello dear.”

Iruka smiles and leans in to accept Kakashi’s kiss to his forehead. He’s led inside, and once the door shuts, he reaches up and starts untying his hair.

Hands gently take his elbows and Kakashi crowds him from behind. “Leave it up for now?”

Iruka tightens the tie again, then turns around in the circle of Kakashi’s arms. “Have you thought about it?” he asks.

Kakashi hums. “Can I kiss you? I won’t get to for a while.”

Iruka leans in and tugs gently at his mask with one finger. “Gotta take this off first,” he says.

“Go ahead.”

Oh. Iruka cups Kakashi’s jaw with both hands and slowly eases the fabric down over his nose and mouth. His face bared to the room, Iruka traces his lips with a fingertip. “Can I—?”

“Please, Iruka.”

Lips meet and moans rumble in both of their throats. Iruka keeps his hands on Kakashi’s face, revelling in the bare skin he was allowed to—Oh his chest aches in such a wonderful way.

Kakashi runs one hand up his spine while the other stays around his waist. Iruka smirks into the kiss as Kakashi traces his hand back down, past his waist, his hips, and finally settling on the curve of his ass.

“Someday,” Iruka murmurs into his mouth, and groans at Kakashi’s harsh kneading.

“Best ass in Konoha,” Kakashi whispers. “In the world.”

Iruka laughs outright, tipping his head back. The laugh turns into another moan as Kakashi kisses his neck and jaw. He lets Kakashi lead as they start walking over to the bed.

Then they fall gently, slowly, onto the mattress. Iruka keeps his eyes open; there’s a different visual stimulus here, Kakashi’s studio being so different from his own bedroom. He’s urged to lay beside Kakashi, still in his comforting embrace.

They kiss forever, until Iruka feels comfortable exploring Kakashi’s body with his own hands, until he closes his eyes and rests his head back against the pillow and lets Kakashi kiss him all over, tapping and tugging at various pieces of clothing to ask if he can remove them.

They’re both down to their underwear when Iruka starts to feel the faint prickling of panic at the edge of his awareness. He pulls Kakashi back up to him and kisses him deeply, slipping his tongue into Kakashi’s mouth and feeling the scar across his eye.

“How are you feeling, dear?” Kakashi asks.

“Hmm. Almost wanna just keep making out with you all night,” Iruka says.

“We can do that,” Kakashi offers. “If you want to wait on—”

“Oh no. I’m getting that monster back on my tongue tonight.” Iruka kisses along Kakashi’s jaw, hunting for his weak spot. He probably can’t reach it from this position. Judging from the rumbling moan in his chest, Kakashi doesn’t mind his trying. Or his words.

“Shit, alright. Sit up a moment.”

Iruka collects himself up onto his knees and waits while Kakashi repositions himself to sit against the headboard, his legs apart. He crooks a finger in Iruka’s direction and yes he’s helpless but to settle between Kakashi’s legs and lean in to kiss him again. Iruka drags his mouth across Kakashi’s chest, licks at his stomach, and finally lays himself down and breathes in Kakashi—bitter, dark; he wonders briefly if Kakashi had followed his request to wash up before this, so the faint scent that reminded him once of Mizuki would be covered by soap smell.

Kakashi’s musk doesn’t flash a threat of Mizuki now.

He lays his head on Kakashi’s thigh and waits. Kakashi pets Iruka’s hair with one hand—very gently—and fondles himself with the other. Watching Kakashi go from semi-hard to fully erect in front of him is maddening; he feels his own dick respond, and the heat in his core starts to build. He licks his lips and shifts closer just a bit.

Kakashi stops him with a hand on his shoulder. “Wait, just. Just a little bit more.”

Iruka whines.

Kakashi stops. “Iruka?”

“I’m fine. I’m great. Please, please keep touching yourself,” he whimpers. “Gods, keep touching yourself.”

“Fuck.”

Kakashi pulls his cock out, finally, and strokes himself. Iruka’s lips part involuntarily, beginning to pant. He shifts his hips against the sheets, but keeps his arms still around Kakashi’s hips and his head steady on his thigh. His mouth dries out quickly with his panting.

“Please, Kakashi, please. I-I want you so bad please—”

“What do you do if I check in with you and you’re okay?”

Iruka taps his hip once.

“And if you ever need to stop?”

He taps twice. “Or I can just pull away.”

“Right. And if you find yourself slipping?”

Tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-

Kakashi chuckles. “Alright, alright.” He holds his cock at the base and guides Iruka forward with his other hand at the back of his head. He doesn’t push, doesn’t hold him, doesn’t grab him; and Iruka goes for it happily, sliding his lips around the head and moaning along with Kakashi at the first touch of tongue to cock.

He sucks on the head for a moment, breathing deeply and focusing himself. When he feels ready, he slides down, bit by bit, hearing Kakashi’s harsh panting echoing in the room.

“Little more, that’s it. Fuck, beautiful—c’mon, c’mon, just—oh, gods.”

Kakashi’s cock hits the back of his throat. Iruka pulls back, just a second, breathes, and on his exhale sinks down the rest of the way.

“Shit-shit-shit, fuck, Iruka, so g—ah, shit, your mouth yes.”

He lays his head back on Kakashi’s thigh and lets his partner run his mouth above him. He’s got cock comfortably settled down his throat and yeah, they’ll have to change the sheets because Iruka’s already drooling around his mouthful something terrible—something wonderful—and by the time he’s ready to come back there’ll likely be a small puddle.

It doesn’t seem that Kakashi will mind.

He finally collects himself to quiet down, still hard in his throat though. It’s nice. Kakashi pets his hair again, and this time also pulls the tie free from his hair. He’s careful, so damn careful, and then Iruka’s hair is loose around his face and he doesn’t care.

He doesn’t care because he’s got better things to focus on.

He’s in Kakashi’s bed, with Kakashi’s scent all around him, and Kakashi’s bittersweet cock on his tongue, and Kakashi’s words echoing around him, and he’s hard.

Oh, he’s hard.

If he shifts he’ll choke. He can’t take any relief for how turned on he is. That’s… that’s okay. He’s not doing this to get off. He’s doing it to prove he can.

And he is.

And he does.

Kakashi checks in with him every ten minutes. He stays present the whole time. It’s so. It’s perfect. The third time, Kakashi tells him it’s been half an hour, and Iruka hums and glances up at him questioningly.

“I’d. I’d really like to come, Iruka. But I also want to wait until you’re ready.”

He sighs through his nose and carefully pulls off of Kakashi’s cock. He sucks on the head for a minute, listening to Kakashi swear and pant some more as he swallows and lets his throat relax. When he pulls off the rest of the way, he noses at the hard, reddened length and says, voice wrecked, “Come, then. If you’d like.”

Kakashi wastes no time in grabbing his spit-slick dick and beginning to pump furiously. Iruka sits up on his knees to watch, pressing the heel of his own hand against his erection and breathing heavily to keep himself under control.

“You too, please,” Kakashi whimpers. “Can I see you? Can I—oh, can I blow you? I’ll be just as-as-fuck, Iruka, please, I want you too; wanna see you, too.”

“I know,” Iruka says. His shoulders are heaving with the force of keeping his breath steady. “But this was for you.”

“But—”

“Oh, my Kakashi,” Iruka murmurs. “Just. Let go. Let me see you. Let me know I d-did good.”

“Fuck, Iruka.”

“Come, love.”

He does. Oh, he comes, hard and loud and wet, streaking up his chest and dripping over his hand and gods does Iruka have the urge to kiss him through his afterglow. He inches forward on his knees and reaches past Kakashi’s shoulder to the washcloth they’d prepared before, sitting on the windowsill. Iruka gently wipes it across Kakashi’s chest and groin, and then takes his hand and swipes it with the cloth, too. He tosses the washcloth across the room to the sink, and leans forward to press his forehead against Kakashi’s.

“Can I—?”

“Please kiss me,” Kakashi whimpers at the same time.

He does. Kakashi’s arms embrace him loosely and he holds Kakashi’s face in one hand and braces his other palm against his chest. His heart is racing, pounding.

“You called me—”

“I do.” Iruka murmurs, pulling away so he can look into Kakashi's eye. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, tied with Naruto.”

“For different—”

“You know what I mean.” Iruka chuckles. “Yes, for different reasons.”

“Does this mean I can get you off now?”

Iruka shakes his head. “I just wanna enjoy your glow with you. You’re so precious like this.”

“I like it,” Kakashi mutters. “Being yours.”

“I like having you,” Iruka cards his fingers through Kakashi’s hair. “I… I love you.”

Kakashi says, “I love you, too.”

“You don’t have to—”

“I’ve loved you for months, Iruka. I’m just. Scared.”

“Don’t be. You’ve got me.”

They breathe through the glow. They’ll have to change the sheet, and Iruka hasn't yet confirmed with Kakashi if it’s okay if he stays the night. But he’s happy, and he’s proven to himself that he’s on the mend, and Mizuki’s hold on him has loosened just that little bit more.

#whumpmasinjuly #warmth #umino iruka #hatake kakashi #kakairu #my writing

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ichayalovesyou · 3 years

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Why Does God Need A Starship? (Live Reaction):

I always thought Sybok was cool and interesting and NOW I’m sure! You know it’s times like these that I’m grateful I kinda came back into the Star Trek fandom on my own, because I don’t have to deal with Opinions of older/louder Trekkies. This one kinda has a lukewarm reputation but I’m getting the vibe that I’ll genuinely enjoy it.

Yet again Bones is serving up some LOOKS damn! Look at these elder gays! Spock has rocket boots, amazing. “Because it’s there” and then falling off the goddamn mountain is such a James Tiberius Kirk thing to do 😂 “HI BONES!” These guys omfg. OH MY GOD SO WE DO SEE CAITIANS OUTSIDE THE CARTOONS?? Hell yeah! Also pole dancing to no music, is... weird. Lmao. Also okay I’m sorry Sybok is cool! Sybok is cool and interesting and I really like him! (Not morally obviously dude is shady as all fuck, but a cool dude nontheless!) Always fascinated by Cult Leader type villains, especially when they point out valid criticisms about the society from which they came (important distinction is that the CAUSE is not vilified, but the person and their means, something M****l has largely forgotten)

Awww I may ship Hikura, but Uhura & Scotty are also cute as hell!! Awwwwwww!!!! Old married couples can be so freaking cute. Chekov & Sulu are LOST ohhhh my god this is hilarious, these two idiots. Also can we talk about how Koenig’s eyebrows are slowly gaining sentience and Takei aged like fine wine? Lol. THE HOLY TRINITY OF ELDER GAYS ARE CAMPINGGGG! I’m- oh my god they’re so cute. “Marshmelon” this is cute as hell oh my god. They’re indulging and messing with Spock at the same time I’m dead! They’re singing ohh my god this gonna give me cavities with how sweet it is!!!

This Klingon dude is frickin ROCKING the eyeliner! Bruhhhh was the frickin spotlight necessary! Leave the gays alone SHHHH they’re SLEEPING!! Lmao. Yo I’ll be real this movie starts incredibly slowly but I seriously do not mind, it’s relaxing to not have to worry about missing important details if you look away for a second, it’s nice. WAIT? Does Jim’s shirt say GOT MILK?!!? Oh no, it says go climb a rock, oh thank god [“fatty milkers” flashbacks]

Seriously McCoy is just radiating so much old southern lady/gay energy in this movie and I love it so freaking much “if you ask me (and you haven’t) this is a horrible idea” he sounds like my North Carolina living Meemaw. Wow you can see Spock low-key taking psychic damage from seeing Sybok 😲 V’tosh Ka’tur of the highest order huh? Still disturbing that his government literally cast him out, that’s a red flag 😬. What happened with Sybok is probably a lot of why Spock was pressured to be as Vulcan as he was, I’m sure Sybok was a massive scandal/shame for Sarek, and knowing him, he’d end up making that his kids’ problem not his 🙄

Oh neat!! Chekov is in the in the captain’s chair. Oh this is the song they replaced Nichols’s voice for 😤 but also GIRL THAT WAS BADASS AND THAT SONG WAS A BOP! Quick question, wow these “alien” horses are somehow even worse than the unicorn dog (also it’s a desert planet, wouldn’t it be better to have, like, alien camels or something?) This dude’s Klingon is freakin impeccable btw! He’s really got the vibe down! Jim did you forget how fuckin bananas strong Vulcans are??? Sybok went like 😡☹️ when Spock pointed that laser rifle at him 😂😂😂 again even tho I know Scotty and Uhura are married but it’s scenes like getting held hostage right there where they radiate such POWER COUPLE energy GAWD! 🤩

Stay out of this Bones we’re having a lover’s quarrel! Jim is taking fucking psychic damage from this entire conversation lol. Okayyyy whatever Sybok is doing is definitely some kind of mind control type thing, that shit is creepy af no thank youuuuuu (spores anyone?). Oh my god Spock & Jim are so married lmao, that “I’m sorry” Vulcan kiss in the brig man Aw. (Oh man Magic’s of mega-tsu got devani mixed by that comment lame!) SCOTTYYYYYY!! YAS!

Yay rocket boot glomp! Lmfao! Sybok needs to brush up on his earth history Columbus did NOT figure out the world is round 🙄 Ah Scotty being like “listen, you’re not okay rn so I’m not really down for whatever you think you wanna do right now it can wait until you’re right in the head again” and they could’ve not done that and it would’ve been creepy (especially by today’s standards) but they didn’t! And that was awesome!

Bones being skeptical and has every right to be! He’s faced down would be gods and would-be messiahs before! Also I’ve seen people judge Bones for being the first to cave but Sybok totally did that shit to him without consent! He didn’t go back on his beliefs, Sybok forced him to! BONES PROTECTION SQUAD IS HERE AND ITS ME! Oh Bones, man, poor babeyyyy (fuck Sybok!) 😭😭😭 OH MY GOD BONESSSSSS Sybok leave him alone! Goddamnit! Leave him alone!

I think Jim can see Spock’s Sybok induced vision cuz they’re ✨Bonded✨ (it didn’t seem like they could see Bones’s, other than what Bones was doing). JIM KNOWS SO MUCH BETTER! ITS HOW HE BEAT THE SPORES ITS HIS CORE! I UNDERSTAND AND LOVE HIM FOR IT!!! Spock 😍😍😍 he’s like, you’re bullshit happiness pill doesn’t work on me cuz I am whole for the first time in my life, and I love my husband, and I already learned my lesson decades ago 💚🖖🏻💚 (who knew how important the character development from This Side of Paradise AND Return To Tommorow would be??? Hell yeah!)

I love Scotty so much 🥰 hardcore badass Hufflepuff from beginning to end! Also I hope Sybok appears in SNW that could be really really interesting if they do it right! ITS GOD (derogatory) REVERE HIM! Oh here comes that legendary question!! “What dies God need with a starship?” Red flag don’t call Jim a creature! Oh shit god has laxer eyes oh no lmao! Bones snaps out of whatever Sybok did to him when “God” hurts his friends and we LOVE HIM FOR ITTTT! Awww Spock & Sybok and be saaaaad, oh shit! Into the lightning to fight a mirror of yourself like Lazarus in that one episode!

OH SHIT THE KLINGONS ARE HERE! Oh damn Spock just swore a cuss the right way, at a Klingon General no less! General dude just went “caotain tell Kirk you are sorry!” LMAO! NOT IN FRONT OF THE KLINGONS 😂😂😂😍 KISS DAMNIT!! God this whole after scene is so good, maybe the god is the friends we made along the way. “I lost a brother once” you also lost SAM dummy, I know you were just telling Spock you love him but still. SHUT UP SPOCK IS PLAYING ROW ROW ROW YOUR BOAT ON HIS LYRE??

Okay, seriously, I unironically love this movie, it might be my favorite out of the ones I’ve seen so far actually. TMP felt like the movies getting their sea legs, but it was slow and messy, it wasn’t as thought provoking as it wanted to be (aside from Spock’s wonderful arc in that film). WoK & TSFS are amazing for drama and angst and Spirk content, but they weren’t really asking the big questions Star Trek is wonderful for. Then The Voyage Home is just plain silly and fun and wholesome. But this, this movie had depth! The whole premise is “what is god and is there is one?” I LOVE that as someone who has a very complicated relationship with spirituality. I also already loved the TOS episodes This Side of Paradise, Return To Tomorrow, The Omega Glory and The Way To Eden, and this movie had the best of those concepts! Sybok was such a fascinating antagonist/anti-hero and I hope we get to see him explored more on screen one day, even if it’s just through Discovery/SNW flashbacks. It may have started off slow and it’s not without its flaws but this felt like the Star Trekkiest TOS Star Trek movie so far!

#star trek #star trek v: the final frontier #the final frontier #why does god need a starship #star trek tos #tos liveblog #liveblogging #Sybok

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