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kikixreverie · 1 year

Text

It's called: freefall

Bucky x Female reader

Summary - Things get heated between you and your closest friend Bucky, when you're made to play a married couple on an important mission. Neither of you can help yourselves when you end up stuck in a hotel room together, with sexual tension you could cut with a knife.

Word count - 10k

Warnings - (18+) smut, fingering, p in v, friends to lovers, fake marriage, gross misogynistic man (not Bucko), borderline sexual harassment (not too intense, just gross words, and also not Bucky ofc), fluff, kinda angst, more misogyny.

A/N - Hi, this took me weeks to edit for some reason, sorry, and apologies if it's too long/wordy, i got carried away again. I'm not a big fan of the first half ngl, maybe that's because it's bad, or maybe it's because I've read it about a hundred times. The smut is good though, and that's what really matters.

________________________

"It's just a quick job, I promise. It'll be easy."

Steve gave you a smile of encouragement, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed in front of him, before politely averting his gaze to the floor when you lifted your dress slightly to slide your usual dagger into the holster on your thigh.

"Then what's with the getup?" You asked, lifting your head to catch sight of yourself in the mirror opposite you, looking at the dress you had been made to wear.

It was a pretty dress, beautiful actually, the colour beautiful against your skin-tone, perfectly fitted in all the right places, and it flowed down to the floor, a slit travelling up the length of your left leg, ending at your upper thigh.

You felt confident in it, and it was certainly a boost to your ego when Natasha wolf-whistled at the sight of you and Steve turned an impressive shade of red, but it wasn't something you were used to, having spent the past few years of your life dodging and refusing Tony's party invites, sticking to the comfiest clothes you owned when walking about the compound. It was a beautiful dress, but you couldn't help but feel like an imposter wearing it.

Natasha strode over to you and slightly adjusted the placement of your knife, ensuring it wasn't visible through the dress. "Daniel Kozlov. He's been on Shield's hit list for years now, fucker keeps catching and killing our agents on the inside."

You scoffed amusedly and shook your head, "What, so you send me in to get killed too?"

"Don't underestimate yourself, I've seen you take down four armed men with a screwdriver; you'll be fine, plus, you'll have Bucky and he knows how to stay undetected." Steve reassured you and you smiled at him, nodding to his words.

You heard footsteps behind you only moments before another voice spoke up, and you turned to the door, your breath catching in your throat as you did.

"That I do," Bucky nodded to Steve as he entered the room, eyes focused on his hands, adjusting his cuff links with a furrowed brow, before he finally tilted his gaze up, meeting your wide eyes with his own.

You barely noticed him looking you up and down, as you were too busy doing the exact same thing to him, no doubt probably being incredibly obvious as you stared with your lips parted. He looked like pure fucking sin.

Unadulterated and unfiltered sin.

His suit was all black and his pale, blue eyes contrasted against the colour, somehow making them stand out even more than usual. His already incredibly muscular arms and legs were accentuated, the expensive fabric tight against his skin, without it looking strange and uncomfortable, it only drew your attention to how broad his shoulders were compared to his narrow waist, or how thick his thighs looked in the black dress pants.

Multiple silver rings graced his fingers, matching with the silver, designer watch on his left wrist and you did a double-take when you noticed that his watch was wrapped around skin, not vibranium.

"Your arm." You said, sounding more like a statement than a question and Bucky forced himself to tear his gaze from your exposed thigh and tried to hide his pink dusted cheeks and breathless intake of air as his eyes followed yours to his metal arm, now concealed by what looked to be skin.

"Yeah." His voice came out as a sigh. He didn't know why, most amputees like him he was sure would be over the moon with the impressive technology, but it just made him uncomfortable, seeing his arm how he did 70 years ago. I felt inherently wrong. "Tony."

You nodded, looking away from his hand. A part of you was annoyed Tony had given it to him, knowing that it took Bucky years to accept that part of himself, and this seemed like it would be a setback in that department, though you still understood why it was necessary, Bucky was the best for the job, and chances are a criminal as 'highbrow' as Kozlov, would recognise the arm.

You wanted to change the subject, and you could tell Bucky did too, so you huffed a laugh and met his eyes, jokingly poking his chest with your finger, "You look like a mobster."

He nodded and chuckled, "Thanks, I guess. You look like a mobster's wife."

"Wife huh? Is that what we're doing?" You ask, turning your head to look down at Nat questioningly as she finished with your dress.

"Did they not tell you?" Bucky asked and you shook your head.

"I missed the briefing but Steve here thought he'd sign me up anyway." You gave the blonde a jokey, reprimanding look and he sighed, picking up two folders from the table and handing them to you.

"Blue one is about Kozlov, and the black is about who you and Bucky are going to be playing."

You take the folders from Steve, handing the blue one to Natasha as you open the black one, "James and Lucille Walter. Hey, how come he gets to keep his name and I get Lucille?"

"That's just a coincidence and I'm sure Bucky isn't too happy about it either. You're pretending to be a real couple, James Walter is one of Kozlov's newest buyers, he doesn't know him very well though, that's why you two shouldn't be caught out by anyone."

Nodding to Steve's words, you quickly skim over the rest of the folder, memorising as much as you can, before swapping with Nat and reading the other one, "And where are the real James and Lucille Walter?"

"Dead."

You stop your reading and turn to Natasha at the sound of her voice, giving her a look when she tried to hide her smirk.

"Ah, yes. Courtesy of Natasha Romanoff herself, Mr and Mrs Walter are in fact, dead" Steve spoke dramatically, causing you to scoff and wink at the redhead beside you.

"We should leave now. I'll explain further in the car and give you a rundown of the plan. Should be an easy job." Bucky takes the folders from you and tucks them under his arm, signalling for you to walk out the door and you give Steve and Natasha a smirk before you leave.

"Wish me luck guys."

_______________________________________

You were picked up from the compound by one of Stark's trusted drivers and Bucky described the plan in detail to you on the way there, but as you arrived closer and closer to your destination, you felt the nerves come on.

Usually, you were behind a computer screen on missions, hacking security cameras and breaking into encrypted files, you had no doubt of your fighting skills, you've been training almost your whole life, and the few missions you've done where you've had to fight were smooth sailing, but you had never done undercover before.

You started nibbling on your lower lip as soon as the car pulled up, doubting yourself again despite the amount of times Natasha has given you a whole speech about why you had no reason to ever do that.

The door on Bucky's side opened and when he offered you his arm to help you out of the car, meeting your eyes and giving you a gentle smile, you felt the nerves calm slightly.

You and Bucky were close in a way that no one had expected, considering he had the tendency to keep himself away from people and stay quiet when he was forced to socialise. You were slow-paced and gentle with him, a huge contrast to the way Sam would constantly be on Bucky about his lack of social skills, or Tony dragging him to parties he had no interest in. Sam always has the best intentions, but sometimes can be a little too enthusiastic for Bucky, and Tony, well sometimes Tony's just a dick with full knowledge of the fact that he's being one, and not a single care in the world about it.

You and Bucky both had an understanding, you had confided in him about your fears, your anxiety, and he had managed to do the same.

You just couldn't help but develop a teeny tiny crush on him over the past few months.

"Don't work yourself up, stay in character, stay alert, and remember the plan."

Nodding to him, you took a deep breath and put yourself into character, reminding yourself of yours and Bucky's new names, keeping your head up as you entered the party, an expensive diamond wrapped around your left ring finger with a similar pattern to the silver band Bucky had on his.

The hall was beautiful, gold detailing adorned the large doors and walls, reaching up to the ceiling to create beautiful patterns against the pristine white of the building. The party-goers were even more beautiful, hundreds of gowns and suits worth more than your life, probably bought and worn for a single night, before they're discarded and forgotten in the back of their walk-in closets.

You felt like you didn't fit in at all, but you watched as party guests eyed the two of you, and they seemed to be approving.

It didn't take you and Bucky long to get situated, stood in the corner of the extravagant hall with a glass of champagne now in your hand as you surveyed the exits and bodyguards, and Bucky looked for the target.

The mission was just a small lead in a huge investigation. You and Bucky were just here to buy something from Kozlov and then get out.

"Got him, 4 o-clock. He's surrounded but he should be expecting us so it shouldn't be an issue." Bucky had leant down to whisper in your ear, his breath tickling against your neck and causing a shiver to rake over your shoulders.

Fuck, he smelled like sin too.

It made you want to take a deeper breath, made you want to pull him even closer, close enough to close that small gap between your lips and kiss him till you run out of breath, and as much as that would be inconspicuous and normal for James and Lucille Walter, it would be completely inappropriate for Bucky and Y/n.

"We shouldn't go over yet. Let's just mingle a bit, get more of a feel of this place and blend into the background as much as we can." You add, and Bucky nods, surveying the room again before meeting your eyes.

"Good idea, but when we do go over, don't make eye contact with him and don't say anything," said Bucky. You couldn't help but roll your eyes, giving him a slightly annoyed, but understanding smile, and he smiled back apologetically, "I know, it's stupid, but that's what these guys are like. If he so much as thinks that you're either, on the table or threatening his masculinity, we're in trouble. Okay?"

You understood what Bucky was saying, men like Kozlov, they see women as property, or in some cases, currency. It's best to stay off their radar as best you can, which includes not threatening his masculinity by daring to look him in the eyes.

Women were to keep their heads down.

Which was bullshit.

"Okay."

He gives you a final nod and you think he's finally about to pull away and have mercy on your heart, but before he does, he pauses and presses his soft, warm lips to your cheek in a gentle kiss.

Air gets caught in your throat as it happens, but you try not to make an audible noise, quickly pulling yourself together and reminding yourself that you and Bucky are pretending to be a couple and he's just trying to sell it better. It makes sense.

It's just pretend.

You spend the whole evening with your hand wrapped around Bucky's bicep, neither of you breaking apart for anything as random people come up to you and try to start conversations. Usually, one of you will take one for the team and has to stand there talking about money and beach houses for five minutes, plus the occasional question about kids, which seemed to make Bucky blush every time, as the other keeps an eye on Kozlov.

"So how long have you two been married?" A seemingly kind lady asks, her red dress matching her lips as they stretch into an awkward smile.

"A year in June," You respond, well-rehearsed at this point as you smile up at your pretend husband, "Can't believe how quickly it's going."

Bucky is quick thinking with the act, and he smiles down at you, his arm wrapping gently around your waist and squeezing you to his side. Your heart probably stopped beating for a moment, and you wondered how he got so good at this, before brushing the thought away and looking back to the woman in the red dress, smiling warmly at her too.

"Ah, bet you two are still in the honeymoon phase. You look completely smitten with each other, it's adorable." She scrunched her nose up on the word 'adorable', her gaze flicking between the two of you before she glanced at her own husband, standing a few feet away as he laughed with a larger group of men, a big glass of whiskey in his hand. She sighed.

You tried to keep your face neutral, smiling and nodding along, but something about what she had said had caught in your chest, and you wished you could see just for a moment from someone else's eyes, just how 'smitten' you both look.

You felt bad for the woman, who stood in the middle of the huge ballroom completely alone and abandoned by her husband, but there wasn't anything you could do for her, and Bucky was subtly hinting to you that you were to go speak with Kozlov soon, so you kissed her cheek and bid her goodbye.

You spared Bucky a quick glance and he was focused on Kozlov, his face stoic as he glanced in his direction discreetly, scanning the exits too, checking for close-by security cameras and windows again, just in case.

"I think it's time, doll." He murmured.

You quickly lift your head to meet his eyes, the pet-name he usually only used when you were tipsy and would brush it off casually, slipping off his tongue, though it had the same effect sober or not, you blushed and nodded.

He smiled at you, almost looking fond, though you were pretty sure he was just offering you a break from the stoic, mission orientated Bucky, before he took a deep breath and reached for your hand on his bicep to hold it with his own, gently squeezing before guiding you towards the target.

As you walked Kozlov's way, who was surrounded by burly, most definitely armed bodyguards, you noticed the women surrounding him too, some with their husbands and all of them looking beyond uncomfortable, staring out at the party with bored, or even nervous expressions.

"James Walter," Bucky nodded to one of the bodyguards, who had stopped you both from passing, and the bodyguard shared a look with another, before nodding and letting you walk on.

Daniel Kozlov was sat comfortably in a velvet armchair as he swirled a glass of whiskey in his hand, seemingly stuck in a boring conversation as he stared at the wall before him, completely uninterested in what the man talking to him had to say.

"Mr Kozlov, I'm James Walter, It's a pleasure to finally meet you in person."

Kozlov perked up at the sound of a new voice and a wide, Cheshire cat grin formed on his lips as he regarded you and Bucky, though you kept your eyes to the floor, or seemingly 'admiring' the expensive decorations as the men spoke.

"Ah, my new friend! I was hoping you'd show up, had a few men flake out on me recently," The man spoke dramatically, his thick European accent prevalent and images of his file flashed in your head, remembering that Shield had been taking down his buyers one by one, either arresting them on other charges or putting a bullet between their eyes as Natasha had done with the real Mr and Mrs Walter.

They weren't particularly very nice people, so you didn't hold much guilt for their deaths, or stealing their identity after the fact.

"Wouldn't miss it for the world, sir. Heard you've got something I have my interests set on." Bucky's voice was smooth and charismatic, matching Kozlov's energy as best he could, and you couldn't lie, it made your blood run warmer, heat spreading to certain parts of your body you were ashamed to admit were reacting to the confidence he exuded tonight.

"Hm... I suppose I do. Do you always allow your wife to be a part of your deals?" Your looked up slightly at his mention of you, and Kozlov smirked wickedly at the expression on your face, "Women can be god-awful gossips sometimes."

This fucking guy-

Bucky squeezed your hand tightly, forcing the words from his tongue, "I assure you, sir. She is nothing to worry about."

He was just as pissed as you were.

"I don't know, she doesn't really seem like the quiet type, I reckon she's a loud-mouth once she's on her back, although I'm sure having her on her knees will shut her up nice and quiet." He chuckled darkly and Bucky's hand was holding yours so tight, his jaw clenching and unclenching, measured breaths exhaled through his nose, he still managed to keep his face blank though, as did you, quietly seething as you put on the frightened baby deer look that men seemed to love, staring down at the floor.

He needed to think you were in the same position as the other poor, frightened women here, that he'd get bored with you all the same.

You swallowed your tongue though, wanting nothing more than to speak up and put the bastard in his place, right before beating the absolute shit out of him, though you knew that would come in due time, for now all you could do was finish this fucking mission.

"She won't be a problem."

Kozlov laughed, knowing he was getting under James' skin. He stood from the armchair and nodded towards Bucky, the smile sinking, trying to look intimidating, despite the fact that he was practically less than half the size of Bucky, "Make your payment."

Bucky pulled a phone from his pocket, sending a single word in a text and waiting for the confirmation only seconds later, before tucking it away again, "Payment made."

Daniel looked over at a man sat in the corner with a laptop and when he nodded, he turned back to look at Bucky, his hand sneaking into his own pocket and pulling out a hard drive, handing it to Bucky before taking a step back and looking you up and down.

"What's your name, sweetheart?"

You swallowed your irritation, narrowly avoiding the urge to roll your eyes at the way he was eyeing you like a piece of meat, Bucky opened his mouth to speak but was quickly cut off by a glare.

"I asked the wife, not you. Name?" He spoke through gritted teeth, obviously quick to anger, and you fought back the urge to fucking bitch slap him, take the dagger from your thigh and press it to his neck, but you were sticking to the deer in headlights act.

"Lucille."

A smirk overtook his face, a healed scar on his cheek stretching as he did so, "Pretty name for a pretty thing."

At this point, Bucky was squeezing your hand so hard again, your fingers were starting to go numb, the rings he was wearing digging uncomfortably into your skin, but you didn't pull away, instead, you returned the tight grip to try to reassure him.

Taking a step closer to you, Daniel Kozlov lifted his hand to your cheek, making you flinch slightly and you clenched your jaw when the back of his hand caressed your cheek, his skin ice-cold against yours.

"I happen to collect pretty things."

Bucky felt sick to his stomach, knowing that he couldn't do anything besides stand there and watch, stepping out of line in any way would end in a fight, and he knew he couldn't risk lives, or the mission.

A part of you was expecting him to backhand you, but he never did Instead, he touched your cheek for a while longer, glancing over at Bucky with a smile before he took a step away from you and laughed at the murderous look Bucky was trying to hide, he knew that Bucky was in a position where there wasn't much he could do to stop him, and he openly mocked him for it, "I could take her off your hands for the night for you, teach her some manners. Maybe she'll learn to answer her superiors quickly, when they ask her a question."

"Not necessary." Bucky's voice was scarily even, but his jaw was aching from how hard he was grinding his teeth together and he started pulling you closer to him, shooting Kozlov a dangerous glare, "I think it's time we leave."

"Of course, of course. No doubt you need to get her to bed."

Bucky ignored his words and turned, pushing his way past the bodyguards and pulling you along by your hand, making you stumble in your heels.

"James." You called out as you tried to catch up with him. His grip on your hand was starting to hurt again but he kept walking with intent, pulling you out of the grand doors at the entrance to the hall and towards the expensive car you had arrived in.

He handed the driver a wad of cash and told him to leave, giving him a silent glare which obviously meant 'fuck off' when the guy hesitated.

As Bucky pulled open the passenger seat door and helped you into the car, you glared at him, though when he ducked his head into the car and leant over you to put your seatbelt on for you, the intensity behind the glare faded and you were left just staring wide eyed at him, and instead of yelling at him and telling him that you were perfectly capable of doing your own seatbelt, you were lost for words with how close his body was to yours, his breath fanning against your bare shoulder.

You could only breathe when he pulled away and slammed the door shut, rounding the car to get into the driver's seat, not sparing you another glance as he turned on the engine and put the car into gear, speeding off into the city.

his frustration and anger filled the space with tension.

"Bucky, you need to calm down," You tried but he continued to ignore you, one hand on the gear stick and the other gripping the steering wheel so tight that his knuckles turned white. You sighed, his frustration and anger filled the space with tension, and you concluded that he was a grown man who could calm himself down.

You dropped your head against the seat as you focused on the view outside your window, the lights of the city burning bright against the night sky.

You glanced at the side-view mirror, and rolled your eyes when you realised it was the same car that was behind you when you left the party, "We're being followed."

Bucky's hearing was obviously working. When he heard what you said, his eyes lifted to the rear-view mirror and he sighed heavily, "Fuck."

"Where are we gonna go? None of the safehouses are fancy enough for Mr and Mrs Walter."

"We'll have to go to a hotel, they shouldn't give us any trouble unless we seem suspicious. There's no way Kozlov would have us killed immediately after a sale, too risky," You nod at his words, knowing that Bucky was an expert at things like this due to his past with Hydra, he knew how men like Kozlov worked, how their brains ticked, and you trusted him completely. "Okay, I know where to go." He said as you kept an eye on the car, taking note of the plate number and trying to get a view of the person driving it, "Text Nat with the burner in my pocket, tell her we'll be at The Pierre, tell her to bring backup just in case but keep them minimally armed, it's just a precaution."

You sigh again, looking away from the car behind you and back to Bucky, "Which pocket?"

"Inside pocket, left side."

You nibbled on your lower lip as you reached over to him, and he tilted his body to you slightly in assistance. Bucky gulped, and you blushed as your hands brushed against his shirt when you reached into his suit jacket, searching for the pocket.

His body was incredibly warm and it only made you want to draw out the situation even longer as Bucky fought to keep his concentration on the road and the car behind, but eventually, your fingers brushed against the phone and you hesitantly pulled it out and sat back in your seat, a long exhale coming from him as you did so and he readjusted his grip on the steering wheel, shooting you a quick glance, his gaze falling to how exposed your thigh had become with the movement, though he tore his eyes away quickly.

You slipped the phone back into Bucky's pocket once you had received Natasha's quick response, and Bucky pulled up to the hotel. You watched in quiet amusement as the man following parked not-so-discreetly, a bit further down the street.

"Remember who your playing." Bucky shot you a final glance as he turned off the ignition and got out of the car, straightening out his suit jacket as he walked to the passenger side and pulled open the door, offering his arm to you and helping you out of the car.

You hated how real it all felt, him doting on you when you were trying desperately hard to convince yourself it was an act, but you still wrapped both your hands around his arm, draping yourself against his side as you walked towards the entrance, telling yourself that you did it only for the upkeep of the ruse.

The tension between you was undeniable as Bucky looked down at you, his expression serious, but not stern, only intense.

"James? Are we going in?" You asked, using his fake yet real name and it seemed to wake him from his daze, nodding as he reminded himself of his surroundings and the man now wandering closer to them, his phone to his ear, though he didn't speak into it.

"Course, doll. Just admiring my wife's beauty in the city lights."

Your mouth fell open slightly at his words but he didn't give you much time to react before he was walking you into the hotel, and you were thankful that he wasn't dragging you this time.

Bucky didn't waste any time, quickly moving to one of the people running the front desk and glaring down at him.

"Name?"

"James Walter," He spoke and the man nodded, typing something out on his computer before handing Bucky a black key-card, giving him a fearful smile.

Stepping away from the front desk, Bucky moved to your left as he discreetly put his hand into his pocket and slipped the burner phone into your hand, and you switched the phone into your right hand once you realised his plan, tossing the phone into the garbage bag on the back of a janitors cart before walking into the elevator.

You sighed heavily as you both finally entered the hotel room, trudging to the bed in the middle of the giant room and collapsing on it as Bucky started scoping out the room, quickly checking the bathroom and shutting all the curtains.

"We're going to have to stay here all night, aren't we? That guy isn't gonna go anywhere." You sighed, closing your eyes as you sunk into the mattress.

"One bed." Bucky said, and you peaked your eyes open one at a time, moving your gaze to the man now slouched in the armchair tucked into the corner of the large room, still looking beyond annoyed.

"Huh?"

His jaw ticked in annoyance as his head fell back against the chair, "There's only one bed."

Oh.

"Oh," You sat up on the bed, looking around the room awkwardly.

You didn't really want to think about what that could mean, it either formed butterflies in your stomach, or disappointment.

He didn't have to act so upset about it.

"Is it that bad?" You scoffed, half joking, half serious, and Bucky lifted his head, his eyes widening, lips parted.

"No, that's not what I-" He cut himself off, sighing and furrowing his eyebrows, looking guilty, "Sorry. I'm just so fucking annoyed."

You smiled and nodded, "I know, me too. We're one step closer to getting this guy though, Buck."

He nodded too, eyes closing again, his jaw unclenching, finding some kind of relief in your words.

"We don't have to share if you don't want, but I'm okay with it if you are. I trust you. Plus, we've fallen asleep on the couch together before, can't be that much different." You shrugged, acting nonchalant, although you felt extremely not, as you stood up, sick of the feeling of your knife's handle digging uncomfortably in your skin.

You pulled your skirt up to expose your other thigh, lifting your right foot to rest on the bed, while making sure not to flash Bucky in the process as you pull the dagger out, throwing it back on the bed, leaving the garter on for now.

His breath caught in his throat at the sight, watching as your dagger glided against the skin of your thigh as you removed it from yourself, tossing it onto the white bed sheets before dropping your foot back to the floor.

"No it's... I don't- uh." He trailed off, losing his train of thought, obviously distracted.

You looked at him, eyes dropping to follow the movement of his tongue wetting his lips, and you knew you'd never get the sight of him right now out of your mind. His legs were spread, sitting comfortably in the chair, one of his arms draped over the arm of the chair, while he rested his elbow with the other one, holding his head up with his thumb and index finger on the side of his tilted head.

He regarded you silently, his eyes dazed, and you wondered if it could possibly be because he was feeling the same exact way as you right now.

Bucky was struggling to think straight, scrunching his face up in frustration when he finally snapped out of his daze, the frustration completely different to what he was feeling before, now he just couldn't get the image of your thighs out of his mind, or the black thigh garter you still wore under your dress.

God, you drive him fucking crazy.

You chewed the inside of your cheek when he sighed again, "Buck, you need to chill out. I know Kozlov is a fucking asshole, but we expected that. We got the mission done with no big issues."

He stared up at the ceiling, feeling so guilty that he was looking at you that way, thinking about you in that way, especially after the reminder of Kozlov and how undoubtedly uncomfortable he must've made you feel.

"I know, I just hate feeling powerless. That prick was touching you and saying horrible shit and I just stood there-"

"Bucky."

He huffed a breath and opened his eyes, only to be met with the beautiful sight of you stood before him, only a few feet away, your dress clinging to all the right places and your eyes locked to his and he felt a familiar heat stirring up inside him again. He stared up at you as if you were a heaven-sent angel.

The tension in the room was so thick, and you both knew why, though neither of you had the guts to admit, nor say anything about it.

Your intentions were pure at first, and for some reason, on the way towards where he was sitting, you never thought about the very un-pure version of your actions until you were stood in front of him, barely thinking about it when you sunk to your knees before him, your hands resting just above his knees on his spread legs.

At first, you told yourself it was because you wanted to talk to him properly, make sure he was okay, and that included you being on his level physically, but now you realised it was mostly because you so desperately wanted to see him like this, his gaze heated, looking down at you between his thighs with parted lips.

It didn't matter that you were the one on your knees, you'd never felt more powerful.

His gaze was unwavering, the intense, lustful look in his eyes alone had you clenching your thighs together as you thought about your next move, and Bucky lifted one of his hands towards your face, brushing the back of his fingers down your cheek, just as Kozlov had done earlier, though this touch was completely different, and your eyes fluttered shut, a sigh escaping you as his fingers caressed your cheek, ridding the memory of Kozlov's cold skin against yours with his soft, warm touch, and you pulled your eyes open to meet his again, lifting your hand to take hold of his.

You looked down at the rings he was wearing, one on almost each finger, apparently it was a common style choice from James Walter, and it wasn't the first time tonight that you'd silently thanked the dead mobster for that fact.

They'd been catching your eye all night, and you lifted his knuckles to your lips, placing a kiss against the smooth metal of the first one on his index finger, and then the next one, and the next.

Bucky watched you kiss his rings, his eyes darkening with every touch of your soft lips to his knuckles, so entranced by you, slowly sinking further into the seat, melting with each touch.

He couldn't think of any repercussions right now, couldn't think of a single reason to stop you, all he could think about was what you were doing to him right now, and where these actions could lead you, and his pants were getting tighter by the second.

You met his eyes with your lips still on his knuckles, and you both immediately knew what this was, where this could be going, and that the thick tension between you, was sexual tension like no other.

Bucky's heart must've stopped when you opened his fist and slipped his index and middle finger past your lips, enveloping them in the hot, wetness of your mouth, your soft tongue circling over his digits, sucking on them, He couldn't help but groan, leaning his head back, though still keeping his half-lidded eyes on you.

"Fuck, doll. So fuckin' gorgeous."

You weren't thinking straight, you must not've been, because why the hell would you be doing this, why was it something you didn't even have to question, why did it feel so natural, and so fucking right.

The words that slipped past his lips were doing things to you, and the way that his fingers pressed down on your tongue slightly, but weren't nearly as heavy against it as something else you wanted on your tongue would be, you were a goner, and your underwear was already soaked.

You pulled his fingers from your mouth but kept hold of them as you crawled onto his lap, his arm immediately wrapped around your waist, holding you to him, his lips so close to yours you were sharing breath.

Slowly, you guided his fingers down, sliding them under the slit in your dress to bring them to your covered core, watching his facial expression intently, watching for any sign of discomfort.

There was none, and his breath caught in his throat when his fingers made contact, the heat of you radiating against his hand, he could already feel how wet you are.

"Fuck." He breathed, eyebrows furrowing, forehead resting on yours, "You sure about this sweetheart? You want me to touch you?"

You nodded immediately, biting your lower lip, pressing his hand against you harder, "Yes. Are you sure?"

He nodded back, "Never been more sure about anything in my fuckin' life."

You moaned when he finally started moving his fingers, circling your clit gently over your underwear, though with enough pressure to give some sort of relief, but it was when he pulled your panties aside, and dipped his fingers into your wetness, spreading your folds and gathering your slick, before pressing his fingers against your clit and rubbing you in tighter circles, that you were a mess in his lap.

"Bucky-" You whimpered, rolling your hips slightly, and he licked his lips again, nudging his nose against yours, wanting so desperately to kiss you, but also not wanting to miss a single expression you made, he wanted to watch you fall apart under his touch, again, and again, and again.

"You know something, sweetheart?" He asked, waiting for confirmation that you were paying attention to him before continuing.

You rolled your hips again, staring into his eyes, moaning out in pleasure, "What?"

"You drove me fucking crazy tonight, every time you touched me, every time you looked at me- God, whenever you said my name- I'd never heard you call me that before, my first name, fuck I don't ever want to stop hearin' you callin' me that."

His words made you dizzy, the confirmation that he'd felt the same as you all night, the confession that he loved it when you called him 'James' just as much as you loved calling him it, you were sinking deeper and deeper into this feeling, that this moment couldn't be more right, more necessary, like you'd both been needing this for months now.

By the time he had finished talking, he had slowed his touch to a complete stop, and dipped his fingers lower, pushing them inside you.

You gasped, he groaned, and when he curled them, finding that sweet spot inside you and pushing against it perfectly, you cried out, dropping your forehead to his shoulder and tucking your face in his neck.

He didn't let up with his gentle thrusting, and the insistent rubbing against that spongy spot inside of your cunt. He used his free hand to move your head from his shoulder, leaning himself forward slightly, holding you closer, and finally kissing you.

You whimpered and moaned against his lips, though returned the kiss passionately, both of your hands in his hair, your tongue gliding against his own.

This was unlike any experience you'd ever had, every touch dialled up to 100.

He used his thumb to rub your clit, still curling and rubbing his fingers against your walls, and when you started to clench down on him, he pulled back from the kiss.

"C'mon, kitten, cum on my fingers like a good girl." He purred, and your head tilted back, moaning as you came, your orgasm only spurred on quicker by his words.

"James-" You whimpered, his touch not letting up as he pleasured you through your orgasm, though when you were through most of it, you crashed your lips to his.

You kissed until you ran out of breath, doing exactly what you had wanted to do earlier, what you had wanted to do for months. Bucky gently eased his fingers out of you, and when you tucked your face in his neck again, catching your breath, you could tell he was sucking them clean, moaning at the taste of you.

It was quiet for a moment between you, only the gentle sound of your slightly laboured breath filling the space, Bucky held you close to him, his fingers gently tracing up and down your spine through the fabric of your dress, you gave a pleased hum and kissed his neck, just above his collar.

It didn't matter that you'd just barely come down from an orgasm, you needed more, you needed him.

"James." You whispered against his neck, just below his ear and he just about melted into the chair beneath you, humming to let you know he was listening, though you didn't say anything else, a part of you just wanted to say his name again, and to feel his pleased reaction to it.

His body was so warm under yours, but there were far too many layers of fabric between you and him and you desperately wanted to fix that, 'adjusting' yourself on his lap just so you could provide some friction between you, biting your lip and sighing into his ear when you felt how hard he was beneath you, he groaned and gripped your hips tightly.

"I wanna feel you inside me, James." Your voice was as sweet as sugar, breath warm against his skin, and your heated core was seated just above where his hard cock was pressing tightly against his pants, throbbing with every small movement you made.

"Fuck, sweetheart." He husked, no doubt sounding like a broken record, though he didn't care much about that, not when you were pressing yourself against him like that, slowly rocking in his lap, not when he could still faintly taste you in his mouth from where he had sucked his fingers clean, not with your mouth on his neck, whispering dirty things.

You kissed the hinge of his jaw, then ghosted your lips lower, pressing a kiss just below his ear, before making your way to the other side, leaving sweet kisses as you went.

You met his eye as you traced your hand up his black shirt, watching his expression as you slowly loosened his tie, and popped the top button open, and then the next, giving yourself better access to the skin there, kissing below his Adam's apple.

"C'mon, Buck. You wanna fuck me?" You asked, looking up at him through your lashes this time, teasing him with a smirk.

He bit his lip, holding your cheek in his palm, thumb swiping across your cheekbone, his eyes darting across your face, taking in every detail he could while he was so close to you.

So pretty.

"I do, of course I do, doll." He said back, his eyes following the movement of his thumb against soft skin. You could sense the 'but' coming, "But... I don't think we should-"

"Bucky." You interrupted, stopping what you know would've become this huge, self-doubting, self-sabotaging speech, and he met your eyes again, sighing slightly, his head tilted, "If we both want this, then why can't we have it?"

He didn't know what to say, he couldn't imagine a world were someone would really want him, as he was, much less a smart, loving and kind, beautiful girl like yourself. He believed you when you said you wanted this, but was still unsure if you would really want him, want him beyond this moment.

"If we go further, I'll never be able to get enough of you." He spoke quietly, this moment between you was so intimate, which was something he'd not experienced in decades. It was terrifying, but so perfect, so right.

"You have all of me, Bucky. I want you, not just tonight. I've wanted you for months, honey, and if you want me too then what have we got to lose? You can have me whenever you need me, whenever you want me, I'm yours, yours now, yours tomorrow. If you need a hug," You wrapped your arms around his neck as you spoke and held him tighter, "If you need a kiss," You pressed your lips to his, "If you need a release; I'll be there, because you have me, always have."

By the time you were just halfway into your speech, Bucky was a puddle, his brain short-circuiting, his heart beating much faster than it should be with him just sitting, and his whole world view collapsing.

You were his.

You wanted to be his.

He was yours completely.

He surged forward to press his lips to yours, and kissed you for a long moment, using his tongue to memorise the feel of your mouth, the heat of your own tongue against his, and he stood as he kissed you, holding you in his arms as you wrapped your legs around his waist.

He carried you with such ease and sat down on the edge of the huge bed, not once breaking the kiss, or putting an ounce space between your bodies.

You helped him to shrug off his suit jacket, tossing it to the floor as if it didn't probably cost hundreds of dollars, and deft fingers quickly reached to undo his tie.

The tie was silky and smooth, and your imagination was bright with ideas, the image of Bucky fucking you, with your hands tied above your head, or maybe tying Bucky up just the same, kissing his cock teasingly, without letting him touch you.

You tabled the ideas for now, tossing the tie aside.

You could experiment with him in due time, for now you just wanted to be able to touch him as much as possible.

You were both still enraptured in the kiss when Bucky stood again, this time turning around, and laying you down on the mattress, pressing himself against you as he placed one last kiss on your lips, and pulled back to admire the sight of you, blushing with kiss-bitten lips as you lay beneath him.

He traced his hands down your body and stood at the end of the bed, his shirt almost halfway undone.

His fingers glided down your legs, and ended at your ankles as he eyed the strappy heals you wore, admiring how beautiful you looked in them. He imagined keeping them on you, stripping you down and bending you over the closest surface, whilst still wearing the heels, maybe keeping on the thigh-garter too, but he wanted you comfortable, and he wanted you naked.

Gently, he undid the strap on one of your heels, and slowly pulled it off, before doing the same to the other one.

He kept glancing up at you as he did so, watching you so intently, he didn't dare miss a single moment, a single change in your expression.

His hands traced back up your legs, this time, he kissed his way up too, kissing you ankle, your shin, just below the garter.

He stopped himself though, and looked you in the eyes, that serious look returning, "Are you sure you want this?"

"Yes. Please, James."

He smirked, he couldn't not, and his hand drifted to your hip, squeezing there, before using both his hands to flip you over, leaning over you and pressing his hand against your back.

You gasped in surprise, and then felt his fingers against the zip of the dress, his breath against the nape of your neck.

"Should we take this off?" He asked sweetly, and you nodded silently, your voice trapped in your throat, that cocky, dominant persona you had taken on earlier apparently about to be fucked out of you. You couldn't wait.

He flipped you back over to help ease the dress off, leaving you only in a lacy pair of underwear, your chest exposed to him, and once the dress was on the floor, and Bucky allowed himself the chance to finally look at you, he groaned roughly, draping his body over yours and reaching up to caress your breasts, watching as his thumb traced over the hardened peaks of your nipples, "So fucking gorgeous."

Your hands were in his hair, back arching into his touch when he took your nipple into his mouth, paying attention to the other one with his fingers, and as much as you were enjoying it, he was still wearing way too much, and you put your fingers under his chin, pulling his mouth away from you.

He kissed you as you unbuttoned the rest of his shirt and pulled it off, quickly followed by his pants and soon you were both left in your underwear.

You pushed at his shoulder, and he eventually got the memo, and rolled aside, letting you sit on top of him, carefully moving the dagger you had left on the bed onto the bedside table.

When you pulled back from the kiss, he continued to kiss down your chest, but your eyes drifted to the hand he had on your waist, the left one, that still looked like skin even though it wasn't.

You had almost completely forgotten about it, it felt just like skin, was warm like skin, and looked unbelievably life-like, but there was something about it that you really didn't like, it wasn't him, it might've been once, but as Bucky has told you before, he's not been the man he was back in the 40s in over seventy years, and he probably wouldn't ever be him again, which you reminded him was okay, that he didn't owe Steve the version of himself that Bucky thought he would need.

You knew about the struggles Bucky has had with his metal arm, the history that there is behind it, and the hatred he had for it when he was first rehabilitated. You didn't want this impressive Stark invention to become something he used to hide this part of himself, against the needs of his own healing.

You started at his left shoulder, and traced your fingers down the arm, stopping at the silver watch on his wrist, and Bucky stopped kissing you, watching you, waiting.

"Is it the watch?" You asked, and he hesitated, before nodding.

"You don't have to take it off."

You paused, looking down at him, he looked slightly uncomfortable, and you needed to change that.

"I'd like to take it off. Do you want to leave it on?"

He was quiet for a moment, thinking about your question. It made him uncomfortable, seeing the uncanny, flesh arm in place of the metal one he knew was there, and to see a human arm, yet not be able to really feel the touch of your skin against it, only pressure and heat. He didn't like it.

He shook his head, and you smiled, kissing him again as you carefully undid the watch with your mouth still on his, pulling back to see his metal arm visible again, and you intertwined your fingers with his, metal against skin.

You did the same with his other hand, intertwining your fingers, before lifting them both above his head, pressing them into the mattress. You knew he could very easily break out of your grasp, but that didn't make the sight any less pleasing.

You rocked your hips against his, just as you did before, and he groaned, lifting his own hips, seeking more friction.

Reluctantly, you released his hands, and quickly took off your underwear, leaving you naked above him, before you took his off too.

You couldn't possibly be any wetter, your inner thighs a mess of slick as you watched his cock slap against his stomach, painfully hard and leaking at the tip.

"Fuck, James. D'you know how beautiful you are?" You asked, slowly touching the underside of his cock, tracing an enticing vein, before gripping him in your hand and squeezing him.

A moan slipped past his lips, hips lifting from the bed again.

He shook his head in response to you, smiling, "Do you know how beautiful you are?"

He flipped you both over again, his hands tracing your body, lingering in certain areas, squeezing your breasts, caressing your stomach, lifting your thigh to rest on his hip, dipping between your legs to press down on your clit, "You're fuckin' breathtaking, doll, and so fucking wet."

He gathered some of your wetness on his fingers, and dipped them back into his mouth again for a taste, moaning around them.

"I wanna eat you so bad, kitten." He lowered himself to you, resting on his elbows on either side of your head, kissing your neck.

"Later. I need you inside me, James." You pressed your core against him, and he nodded, reaching between the two of you to line himself up, slowly easing inside.

You both moaned as he slid inside you, Bucky's eyes fluttering shut, savouring the sensation whilst trying desperately hard not to give in to the urge to immediately bury himself at the hilt, and fuck you without a moments hesitation.

His hips twitched, cock throbbing inside of you, both of you were so desperate for this, and when he finally pulled his hips back, and rolled them back to yours, it was relief like no other.

His first few thrusts were slower, so enraptured by how you felt around him, hot and wet, and fucking perfect. Eventually, he started to speed up, but favoured fucking you harder, rather than faster. He didn't want this to end too quickly.

You were sprawled beneath him, biting your lower lip and moaning with every stroke of his cock against your walls, his body completely draped over yours so with every roll of his hips, his pelvis stimulated your clit. When he started to fuck you harder, repeatedly hitting a spot deep inside you that made you see stars, you were crying out in pleasure, already feeling close to another orgasm.

"Fuck, sweetheart, you feel so good, y'know that? I'm never gonna get enough of this, gonna want to fuck you all the time, 'm never gonna think of anything else." His forehead was resting on your shoulder, one of his hands on your stomach as his other held him up on the bed, "I want you to be mine. Mine to fuck, mine to kiss, mine every minute of the day. God, I want everyone to know, sweetheart, want them to know you're James' girl."

You were moaning with every word, nodding along, whining when his hand drifted lower, his thumb hovering over your clit, but staying completely still, teasing you.

Your heart was so full, just like your cunt, and you hoped to god he'd follow through on his promises, you needed to be his, just as much as you needed him to be yours.

"James, please." You begged, arching your back into him, and he lifted his head from your shoulder to look at you, smiling with a shake of his head.

"You beg real pretty, doll, but you can do better than that. Tell me what you want, and I'll give it to you."

Your eyes practically rolled back, fuck, you loved hearing him talk like this, "I want to cum, please."

He nodded, leaning in close to you, "You want to cum? I'll let you cum, princess."

He began to rub your clit in steady circles, keeping up a steady rhythm that dragged you so close to release.

"C'mon, come for me, sweetheart."

Your eyes fluttered shut as your orgasm rushed over you, and you gripped Bucky's hair tighter, your cunt clenching around him sending him head first into his own orgasm, his hips stuttering against yours as he came inside you, filling you up with his seed.

His forehead was pressed to yours, both of you slowly coming down from your high, and Bucky waited till you'd caught your breath to lean down and kiss you, slower this time, savouring the taste of you as best he could.

You kissed him back eagerly, aftershocks of your orgasm washing over you and making you clench down on him, still inside of you. Bucky groaned into your mouth, before he hesitantly broke the kiss, and leaned back to slide out of you.

"Fuck, sweetheart, such a fucking mess we made." He breathed roughly, glancing down between your legs, watching his cum seep out of you, so turned on by the filthy sight, before looking up at you again, tracing his eyes up your body, completely bared to him. He took in every detail, and smiled at your flushed cheeks, "You're so fucking beautiful."

You smiled back at him, shaking your head as you wrapped your legs around him and reached out, pulling him back down to you to nudge your nose against his, watching the way his nose scrunched up when he smiled, "So are you."

He huffed a laugh and kissed you, before burying his face into the crook of your neck, wrapping his arms around you and holding you as close to him as possible, practically laying completely on top of you, though he held most of his own weight. As much as you would completely, happily welcome the weight of him on top of you, you also know that breathing is kind of a necessary thing to survive... sadly.

"We need to shower." He murmured against your skin, rubbing his stubbly jaw against your shoulder.

You hummed and nodded, raking your nails across the surface of his back.

"We should probably talk too." He followed, keeping his face hidden from your sight.

"We should, but I don't think there's much to talk about that we haven't already. We both want each other, and not just physically."

He lifted his head and gazed down at you, his expression vulnerable, more vulnerable than you'd ever seen him, even with him naked above you, "So... like lovers?"

You smiled at the old-fashioned term, much preferring it to boyfriend and girlfriend, and you nodded, gently brushing hair from his face, "I'd love that, Buck, if you want that too?"

"Yes, I want that, so much."

"Good, let's make it official then."

He nodded smiling down at you, before he stood from the bed, and he picked you up, wrapping your legs around his waist and carrying you to the hotel en-suite like he had carried you to the bed earlier.

"You're my girl now, sweetheart." He whispered to your ear, loving the way it sounded on his lips.

"And you're my guy." You replied, kissing his nose.

"Sure am." He smiled proudly, setting you down on the bathroom sink as he turned the shower on, before he turned back to you, leaning on his hands, which rested either side of you, "I will be taking you out on a date when we get back, just so you know."

"I can't wait, baby."

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spidernuggets · 5 months

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hi hiii love ur stuff, may i req hcs about jason dating a super femme girly girl, like wears mKeup, wears bows in her hair, gets her nails done n stuff etc? Also being a civillian, im ngl i feel like he’d be super protective, but i just think it would be so cute and he’d be the scary gaurd dog bf lmaoo

been waiting for a request forEVAH

Jason Todd x GirlyFem!Reader HCs

I feel like he'd date a very girly girl who is a hoarder and does not keep things in place. Like you have a shit ton of different types of mascara, concealer, pink eyeshadow. And when Jaspn mentions why you have so much pink eyeshadow, you claim that it's one shade for different occasions.

You also have a huge collection of accessories

Hair accessories, rings, bracelets, earrings

And with all these collections, you tend to lose them all.

"Jason!! Where's my pink bow!!" "You mean this one?" "Jason- No! That's Flamingo pink! I'm looking for Lemonade pink!"

He would help you choose what nail design to pick from when you get your nail done. You like your nails a little longer than average, but Jason's worried that they would easily break, bht you assure him that you're used to them.

In the end, he chooses red and pink nails (to have your nails match with his colour too 🤭🤭), with white pearls and heart charms.

You tell him he can come back later because you'd think that he would hate to wait around for your nails to get done. But Jason is an absolute sucker for you. You can have like a 5 hour nail appointment and he'd still wait with you.

You like wearing short skirts, and you always wear shorts underneath just in case, but Jason is so paranoid. He doesn't want others to look at you. He always thinks he's overreacting, but that doesn't stop him from walking close behind you while the two of you are out.

Even though you have so many accessories, every birthday, anniversary, Christmas, and such, Jason would always gift you with a more expensive piece of jewellery. Like for your anniversary, Jason gifted you a Swarovski necklace that had pink roses around it. And you never take it off unless you're showering our plan to head out in a crowded place and you'd be scared of losing it.

I think girly reader would wear very graphic makeup. Like pink hearts and white sparkles everywhere or butterfly wings on the outer corner of your eyes. When you're unsure of a makeup look you wanna do, you'd ask Jason to be your model. He'd groan and let you try your makeup on him, but he makes you swear you won't tell any of his siblings.

And when your face lights up, thinking that the makeup look on him was perfect, you rush out to do it on yourself, and he thinks if your face looks like that every time you just put makeup on him, then it's worth it.

Sometimes, when you go clubbing with your friends, you'd assure Jason that you'd be fine on your own, but the both of you have a worried feeling in your guts. So when you leave, you're kind of hoping Jason is following you. And obviously he is.

So when some big, strange, older man comes to try to feel you up, you shove him away, telling him you have a boyfriend. But him being stronger than you, he continues to push.

Luckily, your bigger and stronger boyfriend comes to help you, reminding the weirdo that you have a boyfriend. Jason doesn't need to say mire because the man is running away like a scared dog.

Your friends swoon over Jason, but you don't need to worry about being jealous because you already know how much Jason is devoted to you.

Since he's already there with you, why not enjoy yourself with him while you're both at the club?

You'd ask Jason if you can have matching nails with him. It didn't need to be acrylic nails. You just wanted the colours to match . And unfortunately for Jason, he could never say no to you.

So he glares at his siblings, especially his brothers, when they try to question his choices of colours painted on his nails.

Whenever the two of you are together at home, watching a movie or something, he loves to have you sit on his lap, especially when you're wearing a skirt, wink wink.

You try to match outfits with him without him knowing. He noticed, of course. So he's wearing his iconic brown leather jacket, you're wearing your light pink leather jacket.

You'd teach Jason how to style hair, so every now and again, you'd ask him to do your hair for you, obviously decorating it with a bow.

Eventually, when Jason tells you about his alter ego, Red Hood, you think he's the coolest and bravest man alive, in comparison to Jason's initial idea of how you'd react. He'd think that you'd drop him, leaving him on his own.

But when you meet some of Jason's female friends and colleagues, you get jealous that they're more skilled, brave, and closer to Jason's occupation than you'd ever be. Especially when you find out that some of them, like Rose Wilson and Artemis Grace, used to have some sort of romantic relationship with him.

So, for the first time in a while, you start to doubt your position in your relationship. You start wearing darker clothes, darker eyeshadow. Hell, you stopped wearing bows for a while!!

Jason quickly notices this and asks worryingly why the drastic change in appearance.

And when you confess it's to be similar to his exes, he takes the black leather jacket off you, takes a bow laying nearby (there's always at least one or two bows lying around wherever you are) and places it in you hair, giving you a soft kiss on the lips.

He assures you that he doesn't need you to be or look like them.

Because it was you who he fell in love with.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This turned into a half oneshot for a hot second.

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nahoney22 · 1 year

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OMG HI! 🤩 Are you taking writing commissions?! Can I be added to a commission waiting list if you have one for a soft-pining between Plo-Koon and a Jedi!Reader? I’m talking like fluffiest fluff you can muster! Maybe them being like parents to their battalions! The forbidden attraction because of old Jedi rules 🥺

P.S: You are so right! None of this bs wouldn’t have happed if he didn’t bite the dust 😭

Forbidden

𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁 𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁 𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁 𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙

Plo Koon X GN!JediReader

word count: 2.6k

Both being the greatest Jedi they can be to their Battalion, it’s no surprise that the kindness shared between you both brings you closer and maybe just maybe, makes things a little risky.

warnings: none, fluff! Minor mention of injury & death to Clones, forbidden romance trope, mutual pining. Ngl, not overly proud of this as I feel it’s a little rushed and messy. It was better in my head. I’m losing my touch.

Masterlist

The Medbay was often a horrible place for any person or sentient to visit and no matter how many visits General Plo attends, it is never any easier.

The last mission was a success but with so many casualties. His respect for his Battalion grows each passing second and has come to care about each man individually but at what cost? Another win yet it seemed like they were no step closer to beating the Separatist threat.

“I am here for CC-3636.” Plo speaks to one of the droids that maintained care for those who were taken in, hating using his Commander's designated number rather than his preferred name.

“Right this way. His condition is stable.”

Plo stays silent, walking down the painfully white halls of the Kaminoan facility towards one of the bays. Though deep in his thoughts, something stops him.

As if something had shoved on his chest and commanded him to stop, his head turned to look into an empty room. Well, aside from two beings in the right hand corner.

There’s a clone on the bed, no colour to their armor aside from the stark white and shiny new armor and a presence beside them. Their back was to him but he was certain that they were Jedi. That Jedi being you, someone who he still has not been formally introduced to though he had heard things. Many great things in fact.

Slowly, he turns and looks into a room opposite, busier than the others but still no other Jedi present. If he were to hazard a guess, he would confirm that the only two Jedi here were just the pair of you. All these men injured, yet it seemed that only you two had cared.

He sighs to himself, knowing he should not think ill of the other Jedi as he was well aware that most have care for their troops but clearly, maybe just not as much as him and yourself.

“Just this way Master Jedi.” The AZI droid speaks up, snapping Plo out of his doubting thoughts and proceeds to move on along. But as he leaves, you look over your shoulder and feel a shift in the Force. A Jedi was present and although curious to who it could be, you focus on your trooper and wait for him to wake up.

———-

“Anakin is growing stronger and courageous each day though I fear there is conflict within him.” Obi-Wan speaks softly as he walks alongside Plo.

The Kel Dor sensed his friend and colleagues troubles and opted to walk with him and try to clear his mind. “Your padawan is headstrong and a fine Jedi. Little Soka is becoming the ideal Jedi too because of him. Trust in him Obi-Wan and soon you will see everything will play out smoothly.”

Walking out into the courtyard, conversation changing to something more cheerful rather than Obi-Wan’s worrying woes, the two of them took in the calming air.

“Ah, look who is over there.” Kenobi points to the center of the courtyard, over by The Great Tree.

Plo looks in the direction and as if by an instant, he recognised you to be the Jedi on Kamino a few rotations ago. Your robes were breezing around your body, a content expression on your face.

“You haven’t met them yet, have you?” Kenobi asks, already getting ready to walk on over but like before, something pushed against him and his feet find their way walking over to you.

“No.” He answered him.

“Well, let me introduce you.”

Kenobi says your name aloud, catching your attention and as you turn, there’s a strange feeling in the Kel Dor’s stomach. He had not expected you to appear so youthful as you appeared wise beyond your years.

“General, what do I owe the pleasure?” You smile warmly to your friend, eyes flickering between the human male and then to Kel Dor beside him.

“Nothing at all, just thought I would introduce you to Master Plo Koon. I don’t think you two have worked together.”

When you look at him your eyes are full of intrigue and interest as you bore into the mask on his face. “No, I don’t believe we have.” You take a step closer and extend a hand. “Pleased to meet you.”

His hands or talons so to speak, reach out to you and gently clutches at the softness of your skin. His touch is surprisingly warm and enough to send chills down your arms but luckily, your robes hid the bumps. When he says your name you feel an odd sensation. A sensation as if you would want him to repeat it over and over again.

“And you. I see you find calmness in The Great Tree?” He pulls his arm back, digits leaving yours and you try to ignore how cold you suddenly felt. What was happening? Were you feeling unwell? You push the thoughts back for the time being and focus back on his question.

“Yes, I find it beautiful.” You say softly, turning to look at the leaves that bristled in the soft wind. “We’re definitely lucky to have one in our midst due to its rarity.”

There was something about you that Plo was fascinated by. Your voice was a soft and calming presence and there seemed to be no heavy grief on your shoulders. He was internally thankful that Kenobi had parted ways with you both and took the opportunity to get to know you more.

Respectfully, he had asked of your homeworld and family and listened with great interest at whatever you had to say. You also made sure to include him too and would ask questions about how the war is fairing for him and if he had any worries which reminded him:

“If you recall, I remember seeing you on Kamino though I didn’t make myself known.” He begins to walk alongside you and as you take small and slow steps, his large ones go down to a minimum.

At least the question in your mind of which Jedi had seen you that day was answered and a small smile crept onto your lips. “I thought I felt a spectre close by. You have a very warm presence in the Force.” Although you spoke calmly, there was no denying that there was a small hesitance in your mind and sincerely hoped you had not said anything too outrageous after just meeting him.

“That is kind of you to say.” He nods, genuinely appreciating your gentle words. “I hope that trooper you were seeing made a full recovery?”

“Oh yes,” you smile softly “Jammy, as I so named him, has made a speedy recovery. He got badly wounded on our last mission and I really thought he wouldn’t make it out this time.”

“This time?”

You roll your eyes a little playfully. “Hence the name. He’s been in that Medbay more times than I can count. He’s a lucky one.”

Plo smiles, noticing how affectionate you are when it comes to talking about the Clones. It was a nice relief to see one having respect for them after all they do for the GAR. It was rather refreshing.

“Who were you going to see?” You turn your head to look up at him. He chuckles softly and tells you about Wolffe, a trust Commander and the name just so happens to ring a bell.

“Wolffe,” you repeat his name, pausing, “I don’t suppose he is the Commander of the 104th? Making you their General?”

“Yes, why do you ask?” He stops with you and you find yourself blushing as you notice just how close he stood beside you, slowly moving to stand in front.

“I believe that I am joining you and your entourage in the next following days, on Aleen?” You ask hopefully and that strange sudden hope that you had was a little dangerous.

He hums a small chuckle but shakes his head. “Not me, but I’m sure my men will be a great addition in my absence.”

You tried to not look disappointed but the way he tilts his head at you makes you think that maybe he knew. “I’ll be happy to work with them, General.”

“Please,” he says softly and with enough grace places a hand to your shoulder, “call me Plo.”

————-

The relationship you had with Plo only grew from then on. Coincidentally (or not) the two of you would often find yourselves walking the halls of the Temple together but there was something not quite right.

Just now, your conversation with Plo was innocent and had you both laughing but as you passed a small group of maybe three members of the order, they were eyeing you both up suspiciously. At first you thought nothing of it but the stares lingered and then whispers would begin. You wondered if Plo had seen it too but for now, he said nothing.

When he walked you to your room, there was a small moment just outside your door. You were wishing him a restful sleep but the Kel Dor, almost unnaturally reached out and gently pushed a strand of hair away from your face. Your eyes widen, a blush creeping up your neck and you thank him quietly. He smiles a little and nods his head. “Sleep well, little one.”

The nickname was new and Maker it made you feel airy and light.

A week or two had passed and your heart that had been so full was heavy. You were back on Kamino and your chest tightened as you watched the AZI droids cover not one, not two but at least seven of your men with white sheets. The mission, although successful, left a sour taste in your mouth as you stayed in the Medbay, overlooking your fallen troops.

When the door behind you hissed open however, just by the thought of being with someone who you knew to be Plo, your emotions took over. You raised a hand to your face and quickly swept away a stray tear, turning to face your friend.

“Afternoon Plo.”

Although you could not see it, there is grief behind the mask as he crosses the threshold to you. “Come, little one… let us find somewhere else to talk.”

The nickname would have been lovely if not for the environment but alas you listened and followed after him with your head bowed. For the first time in a while, you both walked in silence until he found a quiet room for you both to sit in.

He gestures to a spot beside him and as you sit, you let out a heavy sigh.

“Your thoughts are wild and understandably so. Is there anything I can do to give you comfort?” His modulated voice was soft and gentle, just like the man he was. You knew that he knows just how hard losing men can be and it never gets any easier. For you, you make bonds with your men. Attachments so to speak, something forbidden within the Order. The thought of being careless to them made you angry and you knew some Jedi would not bat an eyelid. So as your fists tighten by your sides, there is no surprise that Plo had gently taken one of your hands and whispered, “At ease, they wouldn’t want to see you upset.”

That afternoon, you didn’t say much but you didn’t need to. Plo stayed by your side and as you felt yourself getting weary, he had let you rest upon his shoulder, even if it’s just for a few minutes.

Another week passed and another week of your feelings being a mangled mess. It was clear now that feelings had started to bloom between yourself and Plo. On your part, anyway. There is conflict within you and something tells you to back away and get a hold of yourself but that was a little impossible to do when your men had made jokey passing comments to you.

“What was that Trooper?” You turn to him with an amused gleam in your eyes, glad to see how at ease they were with you when he replies if you’re thinking about going to see the ‘Wolfpacks dad’. You snorted, dismissing him playfully but there was something in the back of your mind that was tickling your senses. Was it obvious to them that there was something there? Is that why the Jedi had been keeping a watchful eye on you both. Surely if they knew, Plo would know. This piques your curiosity even more.

That evening, you had decided to stay away from Plo purely because you did not understand these feelings yourself yet. Though, naturally, you both found yourselves in each other’s company.

You’re along one of the balconies back in the Temple when Plo had arrived.

“I didn’t think you would be here.” His voice made you jump a little, your mind so deep in force you didn’t even sense his overpowering presence.

“And why is that?” You poke at his thoughts as he stands beside you, overlooking the city below.

“This is where I often come to ponder my thoughts - something I find myself doing a lot more lately.”

Your body gets tingly at his words, heart racing a little faster. This could either be a good thing, a bad thing, or both. “Something on your mind?”

He stays silent for a few moments, his thoughts conflicted for the first time in a while. He was often quick, wise and brave but he felt the opposite now. Especially with you by his side.

“It is more someone than it is something.”

There it was. You just knew it was about you, or so you certainly had hoped unless he has someone else in his life he has kept quiet about. Words can not even string together but luckily, he does the talking. “My men, they like to talk shall we say about our relationship.”

You freeze. Relationship? Was there even one aside from friendship? “I see.”

Plo looks down at the railing, seeing your hands nervously strum along it and hoping he had read the last few rotations correctly, he quietly placed his hand over yours, talons very gently caressing into your warm skin. “Is this okay little one?” He whispers in your ear and you shudder a small gasp before nodding.

“Plo, what if someone sees us?”

“I must admit I am point the past of caring. I can not help who I admire, and that is you little one.” Plo is watching you carefully but when a small smile flicks onto your lips and your turn to face him, you carefully rest your hand upon his.

“Me too,” you sigh softly, “but I fear this may impact our place in the Order.”

Gently, his other hand comes down to your waist and turns you to face him fully. His hand leaves yours and places it to the side of your face as he looks adoringly into your eyes. “Like I said, I am past the point of caring. I can not stand to believe that we are to shut ourselves out of anything and not be deemed as a Jedi. I trust you feel the same?”

Without hesitation, you fall into his chest. Arms wrapping around his lean and tall frame, Plo wastes no time in reciprocating the gesture. “Of course I feel the same Plo… ever since I met you I could not help but-.”

“Fall for one another.” He finishes off for the both of you.

You’re both elated, glad that the mutual feelings were out in the open but for what is to happen next is uncertain. But what you both did know is that you would both pick one another over any stupid rule. Together, you will treat your own men with the love and dignity they deserve and if yours has to be a secret, so be it.

As long as you’re with him.

Masterlist

tags: @s1st3r @buddee @taskfork-archive @nunanuggets @andyoufollowyourheart @littlefeatherr @kaitou2417 @eyecandyeoz @captxin-rex @cwarssimp @jesseeka @ashotofspotchka @oohyesplease @megafrost4 @adriiibell @theroguesully @equalityforcats @rexandechosandwich @mustluvecho @inagalaxywickedfahaway @misogirl828 @ladykatakuri @jambolska-grozdova @chxpsi @alexandrisonfire @arctrooper69 @padawancat97 7 @rain-on-kamino @either-madness-or-brilliance @by-the-primes @torchbearerkyle @tech-aficionado @grizabellasolo o @therealnekomari @a-c-lee @autumnleaves1991-blog @tech-depression-inventory @mylifeinthetardisforever @brynhildrmimi @greaser-wolf @lucyysthings @agenteliix

#plo koon #plo koon x reader #Plo koon x you #the bad batch #star wars #clone wars #nahoney22 writes

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apathyofthesympathetic · 3 months

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My gift to @daisy-bugs for the @pjo-equinox-solstice-exchange! Ngl I’m not actually sure I need to post this because I had awful wifi for a couple days so I forgot there was a check-in, but I wrote it anyway and I’m going to assume that I should

The only character listed that I didn’t include was Leo, and I did my best to give it a happy ending. I also posted it on Ao3 (registered users only) if you want to read it there. Hope you enjoy!

Nico left the campfire early. He was too exhausted to socialise tonight.

Thankfully, Will was nowhere to be seen, and thus wasn’t present to strongarm him into the infirmary. He instead walked across the greenery to Cabin Thirteen, a gloomy and foreboding building with a pair of black fire torches burning beside the entrance. This wasn’t anywhere near the first time Nico had seen his cabin - he’d slept here at least twenty times since the second Titan War - but he still didn’t really know how to feel about it.

It always felt like it was made for someone else. Like he was intruding in someone else’s house. The inside was too quiet, too pristine, too untouched. Once, he tried messing up the blankets in all the beds to try and make it feel more lived in, but he felt even worse afterwards and ended up fixing them immediately. It was the closest place he had to a home but it still felt… off. He was definitely thankful for the nights of sleep it had given him, but most of the time he shadow travels here and immediately passes out. He doesn’t linger like he’s doing now.

He finds it doesn’t feel quite so alien anymore. It doesn’t feel like he’s trespassing, it feels like he’s finally allowed to be here.

From the outside it was a tall, imposing building, lit with torches of black fire and constructed from marble, concrete and obsidian. It had, both inside and out, accents of gold, silver, hematite, onyx, jet and black tourmaline. Its windows were few and far between, stained dark purple and lined with empty plant boxes, dark curtains drawn over them.

The inside was just as dreary. It had a dozen or so beds, each lined with drapes to separate them from the cabin at large. They all had drawers beneath them and a desk beside them. The far wall was covered in empty bookcases.

In the middle of the cabin there was a dip in the floor, a few steps leading down to an impression lined with cushions and furs and rugs. There was a trapdoor in the centre of the nook, half hidden by a loose blanket. The edges of the impression had plant boxes cut into the floor, filled with soil and covered in blooming plants. A gift from Persephone, no doubt.

Upon closer inspection, each of the plants were labeled with a folded piece of paper half embedded in the soil, which also listed watering instructions and sunlight requirements. Unless someone else had been in here taking care of them the notes were entirely unnecessary. Grey asphodel, red anemone, poppies, and moonflower. One of the plant beds was empty, with only a note that read ‘dandelions, perhaps?’

Nico really hated Persephone.

The flowers glittered like crystals in stark contrast to the otherwise gloomy interior. Though that could be blamed more on the lighting than the plants themselves. Above the nook was a skylight cut into the sloped ceiling, a glass window with an intricate pattern that was stained every colour of the rainbow. It fell across the nook and plants in a rolling fountain of light, glowing like a hoard of gems and dousing the rest of the cabin in colour.

It gave Nico a headache. He went and sat on the edge of the bed he always slept in which, like all the others, resembled a coffin. Polished mahogany frame, brass railing, blood red pillows and blankets. Apparently whoever designed this place thought children of Hades were vampires.

The mattress was soft. The blankets were fluffy. The pillows were smooth. It was the nicest bed he’d had for as long as he could remember.

The bedside drawer had a few of his tokens inside: Bianca’s hat, her sketchbook, his Lotus Hotel credit card, his Mythomagic cards and his figurines, including the one Bianca died for. He’d checked on everything the day he went to Tartarus, and he checked it again now. Everything was as he left it.

Nico took off his sword belt, shoes and socks. He slid under the blanket still wearing the rest of his clothes. He would need to move quickly if they were attacked in the night, having to change would just slow him down. Besides, he didn’t own pyjamas, unless the beds’ drawers came pre-stocked with complimentary clothes.

He didn’t bother checking. He arranged himself into a comfortable position, making sure it didn’t strain his shoulder, and closed his eyes.

He opened them five seconds later.

Nothing was on fire. There was no blood. No bodies. No monsters. No gods of misery intending to torment his soul for the rest of time.

No threats. Nothing dangerous.

Nico closed his eyes.

He adjusted the blanket a minute later. After five he shoved a pillow under his chest. He tried laying on his side, his stomach, his back, but the mattress was too soft and comfortable to relax. The blanket started feeling like it was trying to swallow him whole, so he kicked it away. Before even twenty minutes have passed the pillows join it.

Nico finds himself surveying the rest of the cabin. Like the last time he was here, there’s a thin layer of dust over almost everything, as it had been left relatively alone after construction finished. That’s good, if any enemies decide to spy on him during the night their footsteps would be obvious. There isn’t anything for them to hide behind except the other beds, the impression, and maybe the drapes or curtains.

It was starting to get really cold, so Nico grabbed the blanket again. It’s too warm, too fluffy. Too nice.

After around twenty minutes of staring at the rest of the cabin Nico tried closing the drapes. It’s almost good, the way they shield him away from the rest of the world, but it’s too claustrophobic. He felt closed in, trapped, and knowing that if the cabin was attacked he wouldn’t see the threat makes it all the worse.

He shoved them back immediately, before slinking back to the bed and sitting on it cross legged. He pulled the blanket over his back and let his brain trick itself into thinking it would protect him. The mattress dipped under his weight. It’s too soft, like a marshmallow. Nico felt like it would swallow him if he made a wrong move.

He moved back, managing to not be smothered by a mattress, and leaned his back against the wall. It’s smooth, cold. Perfectly straight and even. It’s easy not to mistake it for the walls of the jar.

Nico tried closing his eyes again. He gives up after five minutes. Where was Hazel? Surely the campfire wasn’t going to last that long. Did something happen to her? He should go out and check -

No, Nico, now is not the time to be an overprotective brother, he chastised himself. Hazel’s earned herself some freedom, she didn’t need an overbearing brother now of all times. She can take care of herself. She’s fine. If camp was attacked he would hear it. If someone died he would feel it.

Unless they attacked in the night. After midnight maybe, once everyone was asleep. They could waltz right into camp and slit everyones’ throats and Nico would be none the wiser. Sure the sheer number of deaths might wake him up, but if the enemy knew that they would kill him first. They’d waltz into the cabin, right up to his bed, and slit his throat or suffocate him so he wouldn’t ruin -

Nico sprang to his feet and began pacing around the nook.

Maybe the infirmary had some melatonin. No, if Will was there he’d force him to spend the night thanks to that ridiculous ‘three nights’ idea Nico agreed to. He wanted to delay that for as long as possible. Besides, then he wouldn’t know if Hazel was still okay. And he’s pretty sure antiseptic and blood wouldn’t be the nicest smell to surround himself with if he’s trying to fall asleep.

But he wasn’t trying to fall asleep, was he?

Nico stopped walking in circles. The fluffy red blanket trailed behind him, collecting dust. Great, there goes his footprints plan.

His eyes caught on the trapdoor in the centre of the nook. What’s underneath it? That might be a good place for monsters to hide.

Nico began descending the stairs only to trip on the last one. He caught himself on his hands with a wince. Maybe he was more tired than he thought.

Oh, yeah, he’s definitely tired. When he blinks it takes him a second or two to open his eyes. That’s not good - he had to be alert.

Nico’s in the middle of lifting up the trapdoor when he remembered the camp’s magical borders would stop any monsters from entering.

That wouldn’t stop any Romans that weren’t fond of the truce. Either way, too late now. He might as well check.

He lifted the trapdoor the rest of the way, squinting into the darkness. A thin flight of stairs descended into a large mostly empty room, lined with shelves and counters and drawers. It looked like a kitchen.

There was a circle of dirt cut into the otherwise stone floor, with an abandoned shovel on top of it. Ah, a setup for spirit summoning. That might be useful. He could check in the morning if the Physician’s Cure worked on Leo.

He hoped it did.

Maybe he should check tonight.

No. If he checks then it becomes real. Then he has to acknowledge it happened. He has to face reality for what it is, even if the reality is that Leo was dead and wasn’t coming back.

If that’s the reality, he’d quite significantly prefer to wait until morning.

Nico closed and leaned away from the trapdoor with a sigh. He’d also prefer to sleep until morning.

Well. That what the others would want him to say, anyway. He’d much rather be alert when they’re inevitably attacked by all the people that promised Gaia aid.

Just then, the door opened. Nico bolted upright and watched Hazel enter, looking exhausted and grief-ridden. She paused in the doorway and looked at Nico. “Can Frank sleep over?”

Her voice shouldn’t be as emotionless as it was. It sounded flat, blank and free of inflection. Nico nodded silently and Frank poked his head in.

They both walked over to the nook and joined him inside, tucking themselves beneath the same blanket and huddling together against the pillows. Something in Nico’s chest eased at their presence. He found it easier to relax now he knew Hazel had not, in fact, been stabbed, mauled, burnt or otherwise attacked.

He was a little frightened by how much he cared about her. Most people he cared about either hated him or died.

He wondered if this is how Bianca used to feel.

He pulled his blanket tighter around himself, leaning against a pillow and making sure he could still see the door and his sister. He forced his muscles to relax - which felt like an oxymoron if there was one - and tried to keep his eyes closed for more than five seconds. He failed miserably of course, but he felt this could be expected. His eyes kept wandering over to Hazel, like he expected her to spontaneously burst into flames. When had he grown so protective of her?

Part of him thinks he always was, that he latched on the second he saw her shade wandering around. Or maybe it was later, when he saw how differently the Legion treated her despite Reyna’s efforts. Maybe it was when he first started comparing her treatment to his own. Maybe it was when he first started helping her get a hold of her powers. Maybe it was when his tongue first slipped and he called her Bianca. Maybe it didn’t matter.

There was a knock on the door, and someone poked their head in. It was Percy and Annabeth. Percy looked apprehensive, like he expected Nico to stab him the second he opened the door, which wasn’t an entirely unreasonable assumption. It was Annabeth that spoke. “Hello? Sorry, we saw Frank and Hazel come in here. We were wondering if we could sleep over.”

Hazel smiled, cheeks dimpling. She and Nico said “Sure” at the same time.

Nico silently resigned himself to keeping as far away as possible. Thankfully Percy seemed to be on the same page, and he and Annabeth laid down on the far side of the nook.

Nico stared up at the stained glass skylight. Mostly to avoid looking at Percy. The moon and stars shone pinpricks of multicoloured light down around them, like a rainbow had shattered and left pockets of colour floating through the air. It felt oddly serene, like it was actually Iris or some other god laying their protection over them. He couldn’t understand how something associated with his father could be so beautiful.

(Well, aside from Persephone, but she was a bitch.)

He didn’t know colours could be so comforting.

The pinpricks of light shone on Percy like a sunset reflecting off the shore. The ones over Annabeth were warm and soft, like books and blankets and stuffed animals. Hazel’s glittered like a hundred different gems, like she was surrounded by wealth and beauty and yet the thing she gravitated towards most was Frank, whose lights shone like lanterns reflecting off a cat’s eye, like the glint of teeth and the edge of a shield.

Frank was sleeping as a human for once. Nico was pretty sure he preferred to sleep as a bulldog. He and Hazel were curled loosely around each other, a fluffy blanket tucked up to their chins. Frank seemed to have fallen into a fitful rest but Hazel was still awake, blinking open her eyes every few seconds to take stock of her surroundings. Percy and Annabeth were in much the same boat, though Percy was determinedly pretending to be asleep, like he could manage to trick his own body. Annabeth’s eyes were closed and she was tucked into Percy’s chest. The only sign she was awake was her hand slowly spinning the beads on her necklace.

Nico adjusted his blanket again. It didn’t feel like it was suffocating him anymore. He was just uncomfortable enough to be able to relax.

That didn’t stop his entire body from tensing as someone else knocked on the door.

Reyna poked her head in, and he slumped back over in relief. Reyna was amused by that if the tone of her voice was anything to go by, “I see you’re still awake. Mind if I join the sleepover?”

“Sure,” Nico told her quietly. She looked even more exhausted than Percy, but also more put-together.

She didn’t waste any time before entering, quietly closing the door behind her two automatons, who both stationed themselves by the stairs to the nook like a pair of guardian angels. Reyna had already removed her armour but Nico didn��t doubt she had at least one concealed weapon. She grabbed a particularly soft looking fur and lay down near Nico.

Nico found himself relaxing at her presence. He felt safer around her. She’s proved that she would fight to protect them, she trusted him. And with her dogs standing guard no one would be able to sneak up on them.

It was easier now to actually try to sleep, rather than pretending to. He still felt his eyes drifting open to look at the door or study the others. He tried to remind himself that the dog automatons would wake them up the second they heard any danger. It did little to steady the beat of his heart.

He tried counting. Supposedly, that was meant to help. He managed to count to forty before he abandoned that, and instead started counting his breath, making each inhale deep and every exhale slow.

Time dragged on, slow and mulish, and it was Reyna who broke it. “You’re not in danger, you know,” she said quietly. She was giving him that knowing look. Like she could see past his skin and flesh and bones and was studying his very soul.

Nico doubted his soul would be as interesting as she made it seem. “Feels like I am.”

“Well your feelings are lying to you,” Reyna whispered. “The camp borders keep out monsters. Peleus keeps guard against anything stupid enough to attack it.”

“Are you calling your own army stupid?”

“I’m calling Octavian stupid,” she said with a sly grin. “Thankfully he isn’t around to stir up trouble anymore. The Romans are all happy with the truce. The giants are all dead by the sounds of it. If something happens, if anyone is attacked, someone else will be there to help and we’ll be woken up in no time.”

Despite making these same arguments to himself only an hour beforehand, it felt truer coming from her. Her voice held warm certainty and steely resolve, like the gods themselves had told her her words were true. Like she couldn’t imagine she could be wrong, and even if she was they’d be all right.

Nico found himself believing her.

“Why are you sleeping in this cabin and not with the Legion?”

Reyna tilted her head away from him, staring up at the stained glass. “To be honest? I wanted to make sure you’re safe. I was worried your powers were hurting you again. I needed to make sure that if you went shadowy again I’d be there to help. That you’d still be safe.”

Nico smiled eyed drifting shut. “Thank you, Reyna.”

She smiled as well. “Thank you for letting me protect you.”

(And she was right, in the end. When he woke up in the morning, finding that Jason and Piper had also made their way into his cabin, everything was fine. He had a home, and he was safe there.)

#fan fiction #oneshot #nico di angelo #percy jackson fanfiction #heroes of olympus #my writing #no art #riordanverse fanfic #hazel levesque #reyna avila ramirez arellano #gift exchange

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getallemeralds · 1 year

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ok heck it uhhh stickmolus

(this is still one of my fav drawings for it. the guuuyyyys)

it is! a Henry Stickmin au! taking place in our Limoliverse setting, which is the catch-all name for.. several stories we haven't made any content of except character designs and incoherent tumblr posts. um. hm. WELL the part that matters is that everybody is aliens!

it's a very loose adaption of the whole series, except with the twist being that henry is jumping between routes willy-nilly and potentially even creating brand new ones as he goes thanks to breaking things in unexpected ways. you know how it is with spaghetti. also there's a lot of background worldbuilding that we are very bad at actually implementing

(also it has an askblog! @stickmolus is in a weird limbo state on account of the exhaustion and my difficulty to keep up an ongoing interactive project, but its fun to read and i still think about picking it back up. i want to so bad. i am my own worst enemy)

quick hits:

Henry is.. something! nobody knows what his species is, including himself. he just straight up spawned one day and immediately began doing crime. this immediately got the attention of the CCC, especially once he started pulling out every power and item out of his back pocket and launching between timelines at random.

everyone's response to him is some form of panic on account of him being an Unauthorized Fucking Thing. speaks english but also writes in minecraft galactic and can make nether portal noises. he's not mute but there's a pretty big language barrier he's trying to work around and when he is able to talk to people he's pretty sparse with words. his head is weirdly shaped and i admire max's ability to actually Make A Whole Ass Sculpture Of This Guy oh my god i just looked over at my shelf and got emotional

i did animation memes with all 3 of triple threat and henry's is RENARD!

Charles is a pilot for the Limolian military and is certified in both air and space travel! good for him. he's a limolus, which is kinda the "mascot species" for the setting seeing as its. named after them. they've got your basic run-of-the-mill psychic powers tropes and are heavily inspired by Giegue from the Mother series! i could talk about them for a very long time. LET'S TALK ABOUT CHARLES.

charles was stationed on earth for a while and as a result is considered kinda Weird because he picked up a lot of earth culture stuff. he's fluent in both english and lilio so he's henry's translator, although his translation is pretty loose and skips details and basically he is not reliable no matter how hard he tries. i love him

his animation meme is BAM BAM! and it was really really fun to make. i love drawing charles i love thinking abt charles he is My Boy

ELLIE oh my god this drawing doesnt have her tattoos. what the hell. ellie is ALSO a limolus! they can be colours besides red its just that ellie and charles are both red. anyway. she's very good at telekinesis because canon ellie already uses the force, so that's her solution to most problems. her relationship with henry is a bit rockier from the get-go due to a communication barrier on Several Levels, but theyre able to get along! ..in some routes. oops.

uhhhh she's actually got some pretty intense backstory that hasnt come up yet because Ellie Has Not Appeared On The Blog At All for the love of god why did i pick the order i did its gonna be FOREVER until we see ellie AUGH. but she got locked up in the wall for some Pretty Serious Crimes (like uh. treason?) and even in timelines where she joins up with charles there's some friction because of that.

her animation meme is Wolf in Frenzy which is probably the best one ive made so far ngl

Reginald's anatomy is terrible and i hate drawing him. also he's a musae, which are very long/tall and very venomous. the toppats overall are a ragtag group of people of various species and various backgrounds, in stark contrast to the govt which is like 90% limoli. also he's a pathetic noodle of a man but that doesn't stop him from being a tricky bastard

i didn't animate him but he shows up in RENARD for like 5 seconds if that counts

uuhhhh also i have a "#stickmolus au" tag. which is probably pretty incoherent. im tired

#leo chirps #ell.txt #long post #stickmolus au #limoliverse

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lizzybeth1986 · 2 years

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Fashion Faux Pas

Book: The Royal Romance, Book 3

Character: Kiara Theron (featuring a couple...AHEM...OCs). No pairing except for a hint of Hana x Kiara if you look really hard.

Rating: PG (a bit of cussing)

Word Count: 1,844+ words

Summary: You'd think the daughter of one of the most fashionable duchies in the country would be given the absolute best of haute couture. But alas...

Tagging @choicesficwriterscreations for FoTW

A/N: A thing just about every Kiara stan agrees on is that the outfit the team gave her for the Costume Gala was a fucking travesty. Ngl this fic was an opportunity to show off the gown I'd hc'd she would wear instead, to explore a bit of how Kiara was faring at the time, and to snark at the narrative a bit. It is set in the time between the Homecoming Ball and the Unity Tour visit to Castelserraillan, in my Petals and Thornes universe.

"This..." Kiara whispers, trying very very hard not to make it sound like a hiss, "this is what you want me to wear for the Costume Gala?"

This season's most favoured designers for the event ("the Gilded Three", Ana de Luca had called them in a recent interview) stare back at her, quite inexplicably impressed with themselves.

"Yes, Lady Kiara - look at this!" titters Karina L., running a seemingly-reverant hand over the dress, her words and manner of speaking fast and impatient. You can tell by the rapid flow of her sentences that this woman is a Lythikan. "The best fabrics money can buy - and all in your house colours!"

Kiara doesn't have to touch the dress to know Karina is lying through her teeth. The fabric feels scratchy and rough beneath her fingers - she might as well have been touching the fabric-equivalent of plastic. Cloth so cheap, Kiara is sure they have cleaning rags more luxuriant lying around in the estate.

"And not just your House Colours! See, my Lady, the feathers placed strategically over your sleeves. A fitting tribute to your House Crest, and to the Duchy of Haute Couture!" chirps Jenna Y., her repetitive flicking of her hair behind her right ear a clear sign that even she isn't quite convinced of what she's saying.

Keep those words out of your mouth! Kiara wants to yell, the smile she'd initially greeted the designers with now a thin grimace. Haute couture indeed. It's one thing if your feathers are faux - it's another if the ones you chose make faux feathers look like masterpieces! These, on the other hand, look like they'd been picked out of the garbage heap of a neglected owlery.

If she hadn't already seen samples of Team JKJ's work in secret, she'd have come to the conclusion that none of these people would know haute couture if it danced in front of them naked. But Maman had procured leaked sketches and photographs of Olivia's outfit - resplendent in satiny red, black lines weaving in and out of the fabric like a spider's web, glittering with shining beadwork and intricate detailing. And now these fuckers are standing here, in her estate, enjoying her lemon cakes and profiteroles and hospitality, shamelessly disguising their mothbitten leftovers as fashion befitting a lady of a Great House.

She can tell from their goddamned faces that they fully expect her to lie down and take this disrespect.

It's one thing to be disappointed in the result yet imagine that it was the result of sincere, heartfelt work. She's seen lesser-known designers provided with half their budget, who have showcased far greater work. This effort is about as sincere as Countess Madeleine's press-friendly "patriotism".

Rhythmically, Kiara taps a fingernail each onto the mound-of-Venus on her palm. The light sting on her soft skin is a welcome diversion. It's a calming technique she's been using since she turned 18, and right now she needs all the tranquility she can bring back on her face. An Olivia Nevrakis can throw a hissy fit and have the national papers gently laugh and gloss over her tantrums. She can't.

Jeff H., the final designer, truly pushes his luck when he pipes up. "I would have gotten the best hat to go with this outfit too - but I've heard that here in Castelserraillan there's scant appreciation for headgear." He sniffs in clear annoyance. Kiara briefly closes her eyes against the image of those dreadful faux feathers atop her head. She's heard enough about this man's obsession for hats - the perfect kind, according to him, is the kind that will render the subject's head invisible ("Heads are overrated!" She can just imagine Jeff say). No wonder Queen Mother Regina was always annoyed around him.

She wonders what dress Jeff would've had in mind for the Countess of Fydelia. It's been long known that the blonde "Two-Time Almost-Queen" (merci, Duchess Esther) has been his muse and inspiration, and he will undoubtedly save his best work for her. Already she's heard through the grapevine that he made orders for at least a hundred lookalikes of pine-tree needles, as authentic as he could possibly get them, to be artfully placed over her bodice in gold thread. One may claim that plans for the gown were in place before King Liam broke off his engagement to the Countess...but Kiara doubts that any of that would have made much of a difference to Jeff.

Kiara is hopeful that they've brought other options with them, but they seem far too confident that this outfit would automatically win the heart of the Lady of Castelserraillan. Or at least that she'll sigh and take it, fearing backlash and censure. This awful dress really was the only one they'd planned to bring for her. A disappointment she doesn't often feel settles deep in her stomach, but she pushes it away, pasting on her most genuine-looking smile.

"Give me a moment. Maman is at Côte d'Or at the moment...she insisted she see pictures of the outfit as soon as I got to see it."

The Gilded Three shift uncomfortably on their feet. "Is that completely necessary?" Karina's pacing of words sounds eerily slower.

"Of course! She'd think something was wrong if I didn't."

Pictures give way to frenetic messaging, the messages result in a fifteen minute phone call with the designers included. The trio leave barely twenty-three minutes after that phone call, polyester outfit in tow. Kiara is rather impressed at how well Maman handled that; she picked her words, and the rare fake compliment on their expertise, carefully...but you could tell from the look in her eyes and the way she pressed her fingers together that she was seething inside.

Kiara knows this, because Maman asks her to look around to see if anyone but their most trusted staff is around, and then asks her to move the call to where the wine cellars are.

Maman has to be really done with everyone's bullshit, to want to move a call to the cellar.

Kiara is getting a dressing-change done when Maman returns from Côte d'Or. She doesn't actually hear her mother come in; when they're changing the bandages and inspecting how far her knife wound has close, Kiara would much rather close her eyes and shut the world out.

If she focuses too much, thinks too much about what the medical staff is doing...she is bound to remember. The image of the split-second that that knife was hurtling towards her...no. No. She won't think of this. Already it's hard enough to handle the nightmares that will follow.

So she closes her eyes and thinks of the trip to Switzerland Baba promised for the entire family. Thinks of the clear, almost mirrorlike, waters of Lake Titisee, of feeding swans and sampling chocolate in Zurich. The fresh air is bound to clear her mind.

She knows Maman has arrived when she feels a trembling, manicured hand over hers, squeezing lightly when Kiara holds on. It stays that way till the medical staff leaves.

"Maman," Kiara gets up gingerly, giving her mother a weak smile.

"Doudou," her mother whispers back, engulfing her in a light, cautious embrace. "Did those miscreants leave our house with that dreadful excuse of a dress?"

A small smile plays on Kiara's lips as she nods. "I was rather impressed with your composure, Maman, that much I can tell you."

"Psh. It's a good thing I wasn't physically there. That garbage deserved to be doused in rubbing alcohol and set on fire!* And those "Gilded Three" would never be allowed to set foot in Castelserraillan again."

Kiara laughs. "I doubt Baba would be comfortable with things getting that far."

Maman shakes her head. "That man has the patience of a saint. I'm glad you didn't inherit all of that from him. Some of the time we do need to put up a bit more of a fight."

Kiara sighs, the resignation in her voice already sending frissons of apprehension down her mother's spine. "We have to learn to pick our battles, Maman."

She doesn't meet her mother's eyes. To her mother none of what Kiara says about court sounds like her fitting in. To her it sounds like too much compromise. To see her mother hurt for her like that, over something she'd made her peace with a long time ago...right now, after everything that's happened, after Homecoming Ball - it's too much.

Maman looks away. Kiara is grateful for this kindness, knowing how much it costs her mother. "Well. I'm glad this is a battle your father was prepared for."

Kiara looks up in surprise. "What do you mean?"

She smiles. "Do you really think we'd bank on designers we barely had a relationship with like that? For our daughter? Just because they're hot this season? We had to make sure we had backup, just in case."

Speechless, Kiara follows Maman to one of the many rooms in her bedroom.

Mon Dieu, to call this gown beautiful would be an understatement. She knows without even trying it on that its one-shouldered, heart-shape neckline would show off her shoulders, her collarbone, the cocoa-butter-enhanced smoothness of her skin in the most flattering way. The mermaid skirt is a vision in midnight black tulle; she can already feel its swish around her feet as she twirls around in a Cordonian Waltz (she tries, desperately, not to imagine the small, the golden-bronze-skinned hands that will spin her around, the brown eyes that she can only hope will return her gaze, the pink skirts floating as if they're on the clouds, together. But the image of her is relentless. It grabs her flush to itself, and won't let her go)

And their coat of arms! Weaved over the bodice in gold and silver thread, swirling into intricately interlaced patterns before descending into thin licks of golden flame just short of the mermaid skirt. The silhouette is designed specifically to mould her hips into their most desirable shape, making her voluptuousness impossible to avoid.

The last outfit would, at best, have spectators claim in a voice most nonchalant how cleverly chosen it is. This one will grab their attention and make it impossible to look away.

The owl is prominent on the design but now overwhelming. It's such a perfect representation of her home, of her...that she begins to feel something she rarely felt for a Costume Gala - breathless anticipation.

"Nothing like our local designers," Maman says, "Our lore, our traditions, our heritage...it all means the world to them."

"Maman," she breathes, "it's beautiful."

Her hand takes a playful chuck at Kiara's chin. "Nothing but the best for our Kiki," she says, "no matter what the rest of the world has to say."

As she often does when she feels emotional but doesn't want to express too much, Kiara wraps her arms around her mother, resting her chin on her shoulder. Even now, the idea of returning to that palace ballroom makes her stomach churn. But she's never felt more ready to go there, no matter when they're expected to leave for Switzerland.

Her family will be there. The people she loves will be there. She will be dressed in the most beautiful, most luxuriant fabric she has ever had the good fortune of wearing, crafted by the artisans of her home, weaved by her people. You bet she's going to feel like a million Cordonian drachmas.

For that one day, she's sure she can forget everything else. Nothing - and no one - will succeed in dimming her shine.

Notes:

1. Côte d'Or has never been mentioned in TRR, but it was very much present in RoE's version of Cordonia. It is one of the first places Leo takes the RoE MC for an outing, and is meant to be a more luxuriant version of Vegas.

2. * - This line absolutely came from the amazing @mand-delemonde, when I mentioned this point in the story. Many thanks to @cassiopeiacorvus for helping me figure out fabrics for Kiara's dreadful OG Costume Gala outfit too!

3. Drachmas was the currency used in Greece until they began using the Euro, so I just had the Cordonians use a version of it seeing as they hadn't fully entered the EU yet (tho I hc that they do later).

4. Reference for the Gown Joëlle shows Kiara:

5. I chose the names for the designers on purpose hdhshshsh

#kiara theron #kiaratheronappreciationweek #KTAW #the royal romance #the royal heir #the royal finale #KTAW Day 7 #KTAW Day 7: Fashion #lizzybeth1986 #content: fanfic

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spinningbagel · 8 months

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Sorry for like,, posting a lot today but the urge to talk about my Oc’s and their world grows stronger with every passing hour.

Anyways, have some Magic Spark drawings, I’ve only done three out of the six I have to do, so I’ll do the other half tomorrow 👍

Wowie okay, Leo’s up first. For his, I wanted it to be more…fluid? Forever changing? Liquidy. I kinda wanted it to not have a specific shape that it sticks to like most do. In a way it kind of reflects his eagerness to take everything in, learn all he can about the world and it’s history. Not sure, maybe I’m looking into my own drawing too much.

Nora’s!!! Ngl, this one’s my top out of the three I’ve done so far. I also struggled a bit with its design. I knew I wanted it to look like a flower since Nora has plant rejuvenation magic, but I was unsure at the time if I wanted to make it look like it had a stem or not. Ultimately I did forgo the stem and instead just chose to do a flower by itself. Also her spark colour is lavender because lavender has calming effects on the brain and Nora is a calming presence in amongst the chaos. She’s like the groups stone.

And 3/3, we’ve got Ryan. His was by far the easiest for me since I knew what I wanted when I started drawing it. I knew I wanted to make it look..whispy? In a sense since his magic is wind magic it’d be more flowy but still hold a shape unlike with Leo’s how it’s all over the place in terms of its shape.

Man’s there you go, three lovely jubly magic sparks created by yours truly ✨✨ but yeah, expect a post tomorrow (whenever tomorrow is for me) taking about the other half of the cast & their sparks !!!

Stay safe & eat bread as always!

#aaaaaaaa #shit post #art #digital art #bagels art #spirit isles #original character(s)#fun magic things woopie #again. apologies for posting a lot today #my head has just been buzzing with things I must share #and it will be like that for a bit #super fixated on my own silly oc’s #they consume my every waking moment

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moririki · 3 years

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⤷ AN EIGHT-LEGGED PROBLEM

OIKAWA TOORU & SAKUSA KIYOOMI & HAIBA LEV & MIYA ATSUMU X READER -> 1.8K you save your boyfriend from a massive problem which is currently in the corner of your bathroom )

REQUEST -> n/a CONTAINS -> spiders, bugs, you picking up said creepy crawlies, hq boys being no! help! at! all! (but that's ok bc we love them for it), fanon-ish sakusa cos i haven't read the manga and he had like 5 seconds of screen time so i'm just going off of what i've read + seen, clear favouritism despite the fact that i know basically nothing about sakusa, manga timeskip spoilers in sakusa's MORI'S THOUGHTS -> haven't seen one where the reader is the one in the relationship who takes care of bugs so since i'm a #girlboss who throws spiders out of my room whenever i see them without breaking a sweat i'm writing that into a fun lil thing with the haikyuu boys that i strongly believe are scared of bugs. also besides the point but look at the pretty colour palette that their banners make fjfjfjdj will go back to writing the requests after this! inspiration just struck

❍ OIKAWA TOORU

-> omg this fucking guy

-> don't let his pride fool you this man HATES bugs with a burning passion

-> he'll never admit it though

-> between you and the aoba johsai team he would never hear the end of how the great king oikawa would cower at the sight of a moth doing laps around a lightbulb

-> so when you pretended not to hear the shriek that left your boyfriend when he saw something flying around the bathroom light and he declined your offer to get rid of the moth for him, this left oikawa in a pretty difficult situation

-> it was just him alone in the bathroom, trying to brush his teeth while eyeing the bug warily

-> you came in a few minutes later, getting ready to go to bed as well

-> "you know, babe, that moth's been there for quite a while," you teased him

-> oikawa hummed in response, his eyes never leaving it as it continued its circumnavigation of the light fixture

-> "oh, you know. who am i to kick someone out of their home? i'm no monster"

-> you almost snorted at how poor of an excuse that was, but ruffled your boyfriend's hair anyway

-> "i'll take care of it, ru, you just finish getting ready"

-> "but y/n-chan, that moth has feelings! don't be mean to it!"

-> you gave tooru a very blank stare at that

-> "so do you want me to leave you alone with your new friend?"

-> "......no"

-> "that's what i thought"

-> you went up to the moth, managing to trap it in your hands before releasing it from a window

-> oikawa shuddered as you came back to the sink, giving your hands a quick rinse before resuming with brushing your teeth like nothing had happened

-> "you're so brave, my love"

-> "anything for you, babe"

❍ SAKUSA KIYOOMI

-> bless this poor boy

-> so it's no secret that sakusa isn't the fondest of germs

-> and that extends to bugs and spiders too

-> besides a normal amount of disgust that he held for them, the thought of where the insects had been or placed one of their many feet on never failed to make his skin crawl

-> that's where you, his wonderful significant other, comes in

-> as much as he loves you, he just can't understand how you always stared at bugs with wonder in your eyes

-> you'd even pick them up, cooing at the way they crawled up your arm while sakusa just stared at you in disbelief with a can of bug spray in hand

-> tonight was one of those swelteringly hot summer nights

-> you know, the ones where the air seems to be still no matter how many windows you open and every insect in a mile radius is actively trying to enter your home

-> you were spending the night at your boyfriend's apartment, ready to have a relaxing night in with him since your schedules had finally synced up and allowed you both to enjoy a day off at the same time

-> it took months of trust before sakusa finally admitted to you how much he enjoyed doing skincare

-> so whenever you two spent the night together, you decided to start the evening with some face masks and idle binging of a tv show

-> against his half-hearted protests, you had insisted that sakusa wore a headband while this happened (one that had a very cute duck face printed on it)

-> just to keep the curls out of his face, of course

-> whenever he caught you sneaking a candid of him with facemask and duck headband on, he just shot you a halfhearted glare and threatened you to never send that to atsumu or the rest of the msby team

-> (you set it as your home screen instead)

-> anyways, i digress

-> so tonight you decided to cool down from the heat with a few facemasks and cuddling in your boyfriend's heavily air conditioned living room

-> but he kept all his skincare stuff in the bathroom, so you went to go get them as he set up a show to watch along with some snacks

-> you flicked on the light, going to his cabinet when something in the corner of the room caught your eye

-> there was a fairly large spider, desperately trying to crawl up the smooth tile wall

-> you decided to take pity on it and release it

-> but when you had it cupped safely in your hands, you decided to terrorise your poor boyfriend just a little

-> "hey, omi, look what i found!"

-> your boyfriend perked up at your signature nickname for him, though his eyes narrowed as he saw your clasped hands held in front of you

-> "no"

-> "but baby, you haven't even seen-"

-> "no"

-> you giggled at how defensive he had become

-> "come on, don't you want to name it? it's very cute"

-> "i want you to throw it out, y/n"

-> "alright, alright"

-> you took the spider to a window, releasing it back outside before heading back to the bathroom and grabbing a few masks for real this time

-> sakusa gave you the cold shoulder as you sat down next to him, humming as you gave him a face mask and putting it on without a word

-> "aww, baby, i'm sorry"

-> "..."

-> "i'll give you a head massage if you stop ignoring me?"

-> sakusa turned to you, his eyes narrowed in thought as he stared you down

-> the act soon broke, though, and he smiled against the sheet mask that was on his face

-> "it better be a good one," he huffed as he tugged the duck headband off, already sighing at the sensation of your fingers against his scalp

-> "omi, come on, what do you take me for?"

❍ HAIBA LEV

-> ngl lev gives off equal amounts of being terrified of like the tiniest spider or just finding bugs insanely cool vibes

-> it's funnier to imagine this 6-foot-something guy scramble away from a fucking crane fly in terror though so this is how it's going to play out

-> when you invited your giant of a boyfriend to your flat, you didn't anticipate just how small he made everything appear

-> he even towered in your doorway, having to stoop to step through into your hall

-> "woahh, i love your place!"

-> it was his first time staying over for the night, and lev was making sure to drink in every aspect of your interior design

-> you found it sweet of him, and watched as he stared in wide-eyed wonder at the little trinkets you had collected over the years to make your small apartment seem more like a home

-> you didn't expect him to scream at the top of his lungs and practically run back to you, though

-> you jumped at the sound, watching as he scrambled away from your lamp and pointed back at it with a shaking finger

-> you squinted at it, making out the very menacing form of a crane fly as it bumped into the lampshade and continued on its path

-> "lev, you big baby," you giggled, heading to the kitchen to grab a glass and trap it

-> "y/n, don't leave me alone with it!" he yelped, and you rolled your eyes at his antics

-> you came back, smoothly capturing the insect and throwing it out of a nearby window

-> lev was sat on your couch the whole time, hands covering his eyes as he curled in a ball

-> "is it gone?" he asked, and you you giggled at how childlike he was acting at the moment

-> "it's all good, baby" you smoothed his hair and lev gratefully leaned into your touch, a sigh of relief leaving him

-> "thank you, y/n"

-> "i'll get rid of all the bugs in the world for you, lev"

❍ MIYA ATSUMU

-> gives off the vibes that he used to eat bugs as a child i'm sorry but

-> have mercy on his soul lmao

-> so twins are supposed to be identical right?

-> anyone who spends more than a few minutes around the miya twins know that that's a complete fucking lie

-> and you've had the misfortune of being friends with them for a very long time

-> like your mums were friends and you were all born around the same time

-> you've been pulled into their shit before you could walk or talk

-> so you're well aware of just how different these mfs are

-> even though they were both absolute bastards, osamu always had a slightly more mellowed out approach which would always end up with atsumu getting the blame for what they got up to

-> especially as a child, osamu loved to terrorise his twin with the unwilling help of you

-> one of the ways was through osamu exploiting one of his twins' fears

-> that being bugs and spiders

-> he always cackled at the sight of atsumu screaming and trying to run away from him due to the spider he was holding

-> as they both grew up, this became less of a frequent thing for osamu to do

-> you also somehow started dating atsumu, but nobody could exactly pinpoint a moment that signified a beginning to your relationship

-> but since you're dating the world's biggest manchild in disguise, and osamu gets annoyed with atsumu quite easily, you would have to swoop in to rescue him from time to time

-> recently the twins had been getting a little snappy with each other, and it had yet to sort itself out

-> from what you had heard your boyfriend was in the wrong this time, but you still listened to him whine and rant about it

-> you were going to the inarizaki school gym to say hi to your boyfriend and best friend before practice started, only to see absolute chaos unfolding

-> with kita yet to arrive, the twins were effectively unleashed and that much was clear with the way atsumu was practically screaming his head off as he ran around the gym

-> your eyes took in the rest of the players- aran had his head in his hands, suna was snickering with his phone out to record the newest miya twin fight, and osamu's deranged laugh could be heard above everything else as he chased his brother, hand held out in front of him

-> only one thing was capable of making atsumu scream like that, so you already knew what was happening

-> atsumu quickly spotted you hovering in the doorway, and made a beeline to where you were

-> his eyes were panicked, and you were quick to wrap him in a hug as you shot osamu a nasty glare over his shoulder

-> literally this lmfao

-> "that's enough, 'samu"

-> your best friend paused, before a smile spread across his face as he dangled the centipede in front of him

-> "you know it was rubber, right?"

-> you felt your boyfriend tense in your arms and you bit your lip to stifle a small giggle

-> but at least they would be back to normal by the end of today

back to the menu - ,, 🕷 ·˚ ༘ ꒱

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bastart13 · 4 years

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Who are some of the other artists in The Arcana fandom that you would recommend?

Gahh this is a great question because I get to babble about all the artists I admire in this fandom but it’s also hell because I’m sure I’ll look at this later like “HOW DID I FORGET [insert name]???!”

But, as I remember for now:

@sketchy-saram has such a cute and beautiful art style and the way they create and explore their OCs and show character through the different scenes they draw or write is honestly such an inspiration. Also they have too many fanchild pairings with @lazyvoyager I’m hoplessly invested in.

Speaking of, @lazyvoyager was one of the first artists that inspired me to draw for the Arcana. They have a great sense for stylistic exaggeration, Illain is a top-tier fan apprentice, their art is impossibly expressive and dynamic and, again, I’m hoplessly invested in their fanchildren OCs.

@timmys-and-scribbles has such a good apprentice! Julianne is paired with Julian and their dynamic is so?? good?? Timmy is fantastic at drawing comics and sequential art and her use of posing and expression is something to admire, not to mention how gorgeous her illustrations are (she can somehow draw bird people/feather details???)

@slushrottweiler-blog again has incredible OCs. The detail she puts into her character design is astonishing and I really like how she does lineart. It’s a beautiful style which gives a lot of personality to her drawings and the scenes she draws with both OCs and canon character are always lovely!

@agent-darkbootie is so creative with the way they explore different AUs and mixing OCs with canon. Again, agent is an artist who really knows how to put character into their art and it’s beautiful to look at. Also, it’s a small thing but I’m obsessed with how they draw curly hair. It’s to die for!

I absolutely can’t get over how much detail @jyiori puts into their art. I’m in constant awe at how natural and soft their posing can be and then you add beautiful clean colouring and a fantastic understanding of the Arcana style while also being recognisable as their own style and their art leaves me in awe

@jilljoycearts‘s colouring is honestly to die for. Every time I see her art, I’m blown away with how clean and detailed it is, while also being able to do backgrounds, lovely and natural poses, and gorgeous expressions. It’s a small thing but she can draw the arcana style so well at different angles. It sounds silly but that always sticks out to me.

If you want good Muriels, @mountain-man-cumeth is the place to go. Her apprentice Karayan is absolutely gorgeous and his relationship with Muriel is really well developed. She has an incredible sense of posing and anatomy that really inspires me to improve in my own art.

[I’m still screaming about these ngl]

@jyuukichannart is also a great artist to go to if you want good Muriels. Her art style is incredibly soft and it’s all so pretty. Her costume design and attention to detail is beautiful and the way she draws expressions really hits what the character is feeling at the time. She’s another artist where I’m in constant awe of her natural posing.

@greyhands is probably the best artist I’ve seen when it comes to replicating the Arcana style. Her sense for physical space and lord the detail in her art is on another level. Every time I see it, I’m gobsmacked with how beautiful it is. She puts so much effort and hits the perfect amount of detail in everything she draws.

@savenkey mainly posts her art on instagram (momky_savenky or luc.eris) but gosh it’s beautiful. She’s already been an incredible influence on my own art with her amazing edits and resources which she provides for the fandom, but her art... just wow! Eris is an iconic apprentice and her lineart and colouring is a true inspiration.

@myarcanamess is gorgeous with character designs and his lighting is beautiful. He really knows how to set a scene with how he draws expressions and the environments the characters are in. He’s especially good with drawing Muriel and Asra and I can’t get enough of it.

@aaliyah-draws is another Arcana artist who inspired me to draw for the Arcana in the first place. Valarie is one of the prettiest apprentices around and her dynamic with Julian is amazing. The way she uses colour is unblelievably gorgeous, her art is so expressive and soft, and her costume design is just.....I can’t put into words how much I love it.

.......I’ve been writing this post for over half and hour and I’m sure I have more to talk about T_T

There are too many good artists in this fandom, guys

#not art #the arcana #i'm not the best at expressing myself so i'm sure i've repeated myself a lot in this post #but each of these artists seriously inspire me #and even still i'm sure i've accidently forgotten some people #Anonymous

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chaoticneutralwriter · 3 years

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The Storm

And it all comes crashing down.

guardian demon!jimin x reader

genre: supernatural, angst, romance, fluff, slow-burn

word count: 4.2k

related works: see Masterlist under guardian demon!jimin au

Continuation of The Calm

Warning: uhh...very mild violence and blood?? LOL

A/N: okay woww....it’s uhhh IT’S BEEN A WHILE. And honestly, it has been a mixture of....quarantine burnout (is that a thing?? idk this quarantine kinda hit different), wrestling with scene placement, writer’s block, re-writing chunks of stuff, being indecisive about where to end the chapter (ngl i had some pretty killer cliffys LOLL) i am SO sorry it took so long!! 😫 (the value in having an ✨outline✨) i know i might sound like a broken record, but i cannot stress enough of how thankful i am to your patience and love for this story!! 💜💜💜💜 i hope you enjoy this chapter in spite of how short it is 😭😭😭😭

(Also yes, that scene is 100% inspired by that gif even though i had already planned for it to happen; the gif helped me paint a better picture 🥰)

Tags: @cherryjiminiee @kokobaekkie @breathebangtan @itsadoozie @thatshylatina @chiminieboi @azulamakesmeblank @sectumsemptae @awkwardwookie @aduky @poisonseashell @shortannoyingginger @caramelmac-chiato @sana-b @jiminstinct @beautifulparisiangirl @taelieninvader @ggukjitaejin @xakemi-chiix @vantaenims @atulipandarose @moments-of-melancholy @xclo02 @cherub-kookie @gottadreamitallaway @indiesy @disn3yfreak @oerangdoongi @definitelynotshady @youmaiiwasherebeforeu

The chase more or less ends with Jimin hauling you up over his shoulder, only to dump you into the shower shortly after. You get him back for man handling you when, as soon as he flicks the shower on, you drag him in with you, clothes and all.

He had sighed, defeated, muttering how much of handful you are but as much as he gripes, he still helped you wash your hair with the barest hints of a smile on his lips. You were more than happy to return the favour, though you don't think your scalp massage was as good as his. Eventually, he drags the both of you out before your fingers turn pruney.

“You sure you don't want me to walk you back to your place?”

You nod your head as you're slipping on your shoes by the front entrance.

“I'll be fine Jimin. It's still day time so nothing will happen.” You assure, finally glancing up to his figure leaning against the wall, arms crossed and dressed in a new pair of black slacks and a silk loose blouse, its sheen like the colour of the ocean under a blue moon. You straighten, walking the few steps to stand closer to him until you pick up the faint smell of his body wash – warm cinnamon spice, the one that lingers on your skin as well. “Besides, I have your...emergency contact so there's nothing for you to worry about.”

“You say that, but you promise you'll actually use it right?”

The question makes you inadvertently inhale, the reluctance barely concealable in that breath of air but you give in, meeting his eyes as you say, “I will. I promise.”

Jimin doesn't say anything for a moment, watching you with those dark irises until you see the little tension on his face relax with the slight sagging of his shoulders. He smiles, “Good.”

Your mouth twitches at a corner and you can't help yourself. You reach up on the tips of your toes, taking his face into your hands to land a quick peck on the centre of those pillowy pink lips.

“Then you have to promise me you'll focus on getting better – don't strain yourself over small things like this.”

He blinks, eyes large at your burst of forwardness, hands that had moved instinctively to hover finally nestle themselves on your waist. You hear him huff through his nose after a while, expression smoothing over before your vision is blurred by his figure leaning down to press a proper kiss to you in return as he sneakily asks, “What if I asked simply because I wanted to spend more time with you?”

Now it's your turn to gape, breath caught in your throat and eyes wide while blinking dumbly. The more you blinked, the more amused Jimin became and the higher the blush creeps up your cheeks until the heat became unbearable. You sputter, stubbornly trying to ignore it.

“T-That's – ! You – ! No, I will not let you coerce me like this.”

He bursts out laughing heartily at the way you pout, head thrown back and all you could do is narrow your eyes up at him indignantly. When he's finally calmed but still sees you all puffed up like an angry hamster, he wraps his arms around to squeeze you to him, an easy-going smile lingering on his face.

“Ah, I least I tried.”

You sigh, “I'm serious Jimin. No horsing around if you can help it okay?”

Jimin thinks the look you're giving him is equivalent to that of a puppy's; all big and glossy and paired with the barest crinkle of worry in your brow, it leaves him no choice but to agree.

“Okay cherub. I promise I won't.” He says gently and only then do you seem satisfied.

“Good.”

Now that that's settled, you find yourself just standing in each other's arms, nothing more to say yet perfectly comfortable where you are. You find yourself fiddling with the small, dainty buttons on his shirt, a distraction to how shy you've slowly become under his attentive gaze.

“I should probably go now...” You mumble though you make little to no effort in actually doing so.

You hear Jimin hum, seemingly agreeing but he also doesn't make to show any signs of letting you go, even comfortably adjusts his hold on you. He also takes the time to place a kiss on your forehead. “Text me when you get home?”

“Mm.” You nod.

You remain like that for another good minute before it takes everything in you to drag yourself away from his arms, picking up your bag to sling onto your shoulder. You already feel the chill of the AC creeping into your arms as Jimin holds the door open for you.

“I'll see you then?” You ask, then chastise yourself for letting slip the little bit of disappointment you feel at having to leave so soon, however there's no taking back your text to Jaehee saying that you'll be on your way (she's definitely not someone you want to delay meeting).

Jimin eyes gleam with a knowing look though, like he's tossing around the idea of teasing you but instead, says playfully, “Of course, can't get rid of me that easily.”

You huff out a laugh, rolling your eyes with a shake of your head which only seems to satisfy him.

The trip home gave you the time to reflect on yourself and on the events that had happened. There's a lightness to your steps – no doubt finally meeting Jimin after a period of confusion and hurt and letting the floodgates to the emotions you've kept buried free has cleared the clog in your heart. On top of that, to have your guardian demon return the feelings you've long convinced yourself were futile; thought nothing more than a self-sabotaging trap designed by no one but you and your only escape from it was to take the plunge.

Yet here you are, relatively unscathed. To be honest, even now you're still in disbelief.

But you won't dismiss this warm giddiness that's taken over easily, just as how you're leisurely soaking in the rays of the late afternoon sun now. It bathes everything in a glow that has every colour in your eyes appear much more crisp and vibrant, making the city lively. It further brightens your mood.

Once you've crossed the threshold of your home, you immediately hear Jaehee's call of greeting from the kitchen.

“Did you eat yet?” She asked right off the bat as you enter after toeing off your shoes.

“Yeah, I ate before I left.”

She nods, continuing her chopping for what you can only assume is dinner for tonight.

“So...everything worked out okay?”

It's asked tentatively but the question doesn't surprise you as much as it should; whether it's because of Jaehee's prior awareness to your troubles, your deep-rooted friendship, or simply sensing the obvious complete shift in your mood, she very well knows where you've been without having to probe much.

Still, you can't help smiling.

The forecast calls for mild, clear weather like today for the days to follow. It's no doubt something a lot of people will be capitalizing on, a relief from the unpredictable temperatures between the changing of seasons. Perhaps it's with that same mindset, you find yourself being able to swallow back the niggling uncertainty that seems to always follow you.

You'll save your worrying for another day, but for now, you want to hold onto these promised sunny days for as long as you can.

“Yeah,” You breathe, “Everything's good.”

You see Jaehee's lips quirk up, a light smile that lets you know she's just as happy as you are to hear that. But then as she turns towards you, it morphs into a sly Cheshire grin.

“Spill it, girl. I need those details.”

The startled gasp that rings out in the dead of night seemed unnaturally loud in the dark spacious room that for a moment, Jimin thought it had belonged to a tormented ghost that had wandered its way in. After a few shuddering breaths did it occur to him that the sound had actually came from him.

His eyes slip shut once again, rubbing them tiredly as he inhales a deep breath before letting it out. Dragging his hand down his face, Jimin sits up, body feeling as if it's made of lead and rolled his neck and shoulders, trying to relieve the joints that are aching dully before reluctantly hauling himself out of bed, the dryness in his throat uncomfortable as is the clamminess of his skin after being drenched by cold sweat – it doesn't take much to know that he won't be able to slip into a blissfully empty state of slumber for the rest of the night.

His feet takes him into the kitchen and his hand grabs for a glass of water which he downs absentmindedly. The drink soothes the burning in his throat but the same cannot be said for the storm slowly brewing inside of him. Eyes as dark as the sky outside the large windows stare out listlessly, his mind slipping into deep thought.

How many times is that now? Four? Five?

For a number of nights, he's been plagued by these dreams – nightmares.

At first they were vague, mostly indiscernible as if shrouded by thick black smoke that whenever Jimin woke from them, the most he would feel is a sense of unease but soon afterwards, the feeling and the memory of it would fade as quick as it came.

But as the days passed, these dreams slowly mutated into something more vicious, taking a hold of his unconsciousness before he had the time to react.

And it was always the same dream.

Not knowing when or how he got there, Jimin would find himself in a formless space, surrounded from all sides by an endless ocean of white veils. They rolled and danced ceaselessly, much like turbulent waves out at open sea and he was the small boat being battered against the powerful force, threatening to capsize. The shifting and turning disoriented him, made his stomach churn and head spin but no matter how stubbornly he tried to run, he could never escape.

So all he could do was stand in place, and as the dancing veils begin to close in on him, the air around would become thinner and thinner until he was gasping for breath, lungs burning with no hope of holding in an ounce of air. Soon after his knees would collapse under him. As he's reduced to this weakened state, it's only then that he'll see it.

Amidst this deceivingly tranquil prison, a figure emerged in the distance, its shape distinctly outlined by the large pale fabric that continue to billow around by an invisible breeze, appearing very much like a ghostly apparition. At the sight, a chill would instantly run down Jimin's spine as if his blood had turned into ice and in the vast silence, only the deafening beating of his heart would fill his ears. For an unknown amount of time, this figure would simply stand ominously without moving. Then suddenly, it would advance, moving at a startling speed and so soundlessly with each blink of his eyes that before he could think, it was already towering over him like a great marble statue.

Like death encroaching.

Jimin could only wait frozen in place by the oppressive force bearing down on him, staring up with shaking pupils and it's then that he knew what it is that looks down upon him.

Divine judgment.

There's a stale and tar-like taste that blooms in his mouth first, then slowly, as the last remains of his strength leaves his body, he finally notices the cold dampness spreading outwards from his chest.

The blade that pierces through him was as dark as the blood it's coated in.

It's here that he wakes from the shock of the phantom pain so intense they momentarily blur the line between reality.

He's not one for superstitions or 'prophetic dreams', being a demon and all but he's by no means unfamiliar with them, especially now when they hit him in the face like this – so viciously and frequently too. A heavy sigh leaves his lips.

The last few days had been quiet; the first in... he's not sure how long. Perhaps that's why he slipped up like this, got caught up in believing that this sweet lie could be true. That maybe, by some miracle, there was a chance for the both of you.

Jimin scoffs a quiet laugh and his mouth twists into a cold smile.

How foolish; to think that they can be more than just wishful thinking.

Heaven is righteous, boasting to have eyes and ears in places without one knowing and yet so frivolous in what they choose to acknowledge.

And it's just his luck that the one time he was counting on that fact, it completely backfired on him.

There's no avoiding this; it's clear that any day now some divine being is going to descend upon him in the name of carrying out justice for the crimes he's committed. If not for the breached guardian contract, then for failing to complete the trials to prove his piety.

Jimin's eyes slips shut, tipping his head down, the ache along his neck and shoulders creeping over him once again – ever lingering, never fading – and all he could do is accept.

Alone in this large and empty penthouse, Jimin felt no anger, no remorse or fear, only a quiet sense of mourning he allowed for himself. However fleeting it may have been, those few days spent with you will be something he'll remember fondly. He thought, if this had been where his luck had went, then he at least can be reassured that it wasn't a complete waste.

Just as his eyes peer back open, the first rays of dawn had begun to bleed through the horizon, dispersing the darkened sky with the coming of a new day. As he watches the sun begin to rise, Jimin's expression hardened along with his resolve.

One thing’s for certain; no matter what happens, he'll keep you safe.

Until the very bitter end.

There's something amiss.

He can't quite place his finger on it, but Jungkook didn't go about his day without feeling an inexplainable sense of dread hanging over him like a heavy cloak that won't leave him. It felt as if every nerve in his body is coiled, restless and bracing for something to happen. As such, he's developed an annoying ache across the back of his neck and shoulder which he had to constantly roll in order to dispel some of the built up tension.

It didn't help, so it only made Jungkook endlessly irritated.

Wanting to blow off some of this steam, he had taken to wandering the streets in search of an outlet. Unfortunately, there's only so much he could do given his status in the mortal world. Playing the shoulder devil whispering temptations, tipping the scale between life or death, fortune or misfortune on a person was only fun while it lasted, and Jungkook was a demon who grew bored very easily of those same old basic tricks. Although there's the option of materializing briefly to cause more mischief, it took way too much power to maintain a physical form so at most, he would only be able to have fun messing with one or two souls but not nearly having enough time to really string them along to his heart's content. After all, the thrill of being a demon comes from withering down their prey, dragging them so deep into depravity before they realize it's too late and there's no saving them.

He sighs inwardly, thinking about all the lost potential, especially now that he's in possession of such a fine specimen. How delightful it would be to see the lengths men and women would go to hold onto even a sliver of his attention, to have them so tightly wound around his fingers just to leave them high and dry. Truly, this was the pain of having a great weapon but being unable to use it.

It makes Jungkook consider how more convenient it would be if he had formed contract with someone, similar to what Jimin had done.

Speaking of, he wonders what had become of you and his fellow demon brother, as the last he's heard of either one of you, one was on a war path while the other's aura signature was reduced so greatly that he didn't need to make much of an effort to be scarce. As much as he's tempted to go find out what's become of you both, Jungkook had to hold himself back. He's told himself that after directing you to your lost guardian demon (as you had practically begged him to do), he's vowed to severe his involvement if he knew what was good for him.

Things were obviously only going to get messier, and no doubt he would be catching any of the fallout if he decides to stick around, even if it's just to satisfy his own burning curiousities.

Jungkook continues to wander aimlessly like this, thoughts bouncing from the matters surrounding you pair to toying with the idea of actually finding some hidden cult who's ballsy enough to try a demon summoning (nine times out of ten it's a shoddy job but fuck is it funny to see their faces thinking it had worked, plus he's guaranteed a couple of souls to his count too).

Above, the sun dips in and out continuously, the constant shift in light distracting Jungkook. He watches and notes idly the fast pace in which the clouds travel, how the white wisps grow and the sky begins to look tumultuous until gradually, they become so dense they completely block the sun out altogether. With the warm rays no longer casting down, the world plunges into a gloomy grey overcast.

A frown tugs onto his lips unconsciously, but the premonition of rain was not what troubled him.

He had the mind to quicken his steps when suddenly they falter. It felt like something had told him to stop, so for a moment he stood confused, turning his head in search for a source until Jungkook's gaze stray over to a small, narrow side street. The street looked like a much older part of the city in the style of the buildings; he can't honestly say he's ever noticed this part before so for it to catch his attention....

Jungkook is already taking tentative steps down the rough cobble stone path without realizing, slowly making his way past the few small family owned shops. He's going off solely on this gut-feeling, almost as if in a trance which after blinking, does he notice he's staring at a particular store front of a shop. His brows furrow even more from confusion, not understanding why he was drawn here.

The shop looked like it hadn't been rented out for many years, the paint so worn down and faded that it didn't resemble the rich forest green colour it once was, even peeling in some places to show the wood underneath. The lacquered sign above has also lost its shine, and whatever script that has been written on it has long become indecipherable. Jungkook had to squint just to make out the faint imprint of the letters 'S' and what he thinks might be 'P' and a 'TH'.

Despite the windows being dirtied, he could still tell that inside the shop was nothing but barren space, the wall shelves filled with dust and cobwebs, the tables empty with only traces of the trinkets it once held. Time had let this place be forgotten, erased its name from existing in any memory, yet it's here Jungkook finds himself lingering, wondering why?

What secrets does this place hold?

Naturally, he can't let this anomaly go lest he drives himself mad. Jungkook takes a step towards the shop, a hand outstretched with the intentions of investigating further when from out of his peripheral he sees something. Whipping his head to it, his eyes lock onto a figure standing at the head of the street from where he had came.

The inexplainable driving force he had immediately vanishes, replaced with the sensation of his body going numb all over, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on ends. Not like the presence of this ominous figure on its own incited such a reaction, but it's also in the way it looked.

Tall in such a way that it's imposing, and draped in a pure white cloak, giving away nothing of what lies beneath. The only feature he's able to make out was the golden halo crown encircling it from behind; a stark contrast. There's no questioning whether or not it can be seen by anyone other than himself – this appearance alone clearly did not belong in this world.

It is not of this world.

Jungkook needed to remain calm. He can't afford to let slip that he's unnerved – that's a sure fire way to getting killed first because fear ultimately blinds. Still, he can't stop the tenseness in his shoulders and the ache comes back with a vengeance. Swallowing, Jungkook inhales and jaw clenched, he turns to leave as if having never seen this phantom at all.

His strides are long, determined to put distance between it and himself, all the while his senses are going into overdrive. He's hyper-aware as he swiftly makes his way through narrow streets and alleys, twisting and turning with no rhyme or reason but he already knows he won't be losing this unwanted tail any time soon. So he changes tactics, figuring that he might as well get the jump on it first before giving it the opportunity.

Jungkook apparates out of the alley, appearing in a busy crowded street and just as fast, he changes to a rooftop. Within these few short seconds, he spins on his heels, gathering a fistful of demonic energy in his hand ready to hurl it the moment he sees any hint of white cloth, body instinctively adapting a fighting stance. However, as his piercing topaz eyes dart around, he finds nothing.

The air around him is still, like the overpowering presence had all but disappeared. Down below, he faintly hears the bustling of people, the sound of cars driving by, even now he becomes aware of how hard he's breathing, the adrenaline pumping through his veins has his heart racing.

Still, Jungkook doesn't dare drop his guard, backing away cautiously as if he's on pins and needles. He's focusing all of his senses, trying to pick up anything that might seem strange over the white noise of the city. He listens, until it all goes eerily quiet.

Jungkook sees before he can react, its speed far more faster than he could have ever anticipated, and all he manages is a sharp, startled gasp. The rest of the air gets blocked by an iron grip around his throat but even then, he's given no time to fully register this as he feels his back crashing into a hard surface with impeccable force and an explosive pain erupts. He chokes on a mouthful of blood.

“Filthy vermin should not waste time struggling so uselessly.”

Jungkook winces, nauseated by the throbbing of his head alone – now he has this voice that seems to be ringing from inside his head.

“The fate of thy life depends on the answer thee giveth me.” The hold tightens and Jungkook swears his neck would give out before he's able to make a sound (how very counter-productive, he thinks in spite of himself).

“Where is he?”

Struggling through the black dots in his vision, Jungkook finally pinpoints the identity of his aggressor. The dry laugh he wanted to let out comes out as a cough but it carries the disbelief and scorn all the same.

White cloak, oppressing aura, immense strength and speed, and a voice that sounded neither man nor woman. There's no mistaken it now.

Fuck, since when was his luck so shit that an archangel finds him first?

The clouds had rolled in much faster than Jimin had thought, the sight reminiscent to being under murky waters. He wonders if at this rate, it would darken even further though he supposes he shouldn't bother. After all, this was no mere storm out of the blue.

He raises the cup and takes a sip of his black coffee, closing his eyes as if to savour the bitterness. Jimin doesn't bother to finish the rest of it, even if it's a waste not to. But there's no helping it, not when he was expecting a visitor. He gingerly places the drink aside on the counter first, then redirects his gaze to the large expanse of his windows at a leisurely pace.

There's not a hint of shock as his eyes meet the figure cloaked in white, hovering on the other side of the glass panels. The layers of chiffon flutter softly against the rising winds, the golden glint of each spike on the crown adorning its head menacing, as if it's a weapon in and of itself.

Behind, the sky darkens forbiddingly, and soon after comes the distant rumbling of thunder.

#jimin x you #jimin x reader insert #demon!jimin au #bts supernatural au #jimin scenario #jimin fic #jimin fics #jimin fanfic #jimin fanfics #jimin fluff #jimin scenarios #park jimin imagines #park jimin fanfic #park jimin fics #park jimin fanfics #park jimin fic #jimin angst #guardian demon!jimin

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couchpotatoaniki · 3 years

Text

One Year ❣︎ Three: The Execution

Chapter Summary: Trying to cool off, you decided to spend the day by yourself. This couldn’t have gone any better for San’s plan.

Pairing: Mafia!San x Fem!Reader Genre: Mafia AU, fluff, angst, eventual smut, lotta crack and stupid shit ngl Chapter warnings: swearing, stalking, kidnapping Word count: 2.5k+ A 365 Days parody

Previous: Chapter Two For the rest of the series, click here

Speech in bold means they’re talking in Korean

Speech in italics is whatever the reader wants their native langue to be that’s not Korean or English

Speech without either means they’re talking in English

Buzzing came from your pocket, initially thinking your phone got a notification until it continuously vibrated. Yunho was calling you.

“Yo, where are you? Mingi told us what happened between you and Dom--and before you say anything, he’ll be having hell to pay, regardless of whether you approve or not.”

Chuckling, you sighed as you looked at your surroundings. “Fine by me. Do what you like to him.” Slowing down in front of a cute-looking coffee shop, you answered his first question...partially. “Just taking a stroll in the town.”

“Wanna be left alone?” You hummed as you entered the establishment, being hit with wafts of bakes goods. “Very well then. But we’re gonna hunt you down if you’re not back by midnight.”

“M’kay, Pops,” mumbling absent-mindedly while overlooking the menu on the screens above the counter.

You couldn’t see the gentle bitter smile on his face, knowing very well that you weren’t as stone-cold as the façade you masked yourself in. Had an idea that you just needed space. “Alright then. Look after yourself.”

“You too.”

Beeping over the line indicated to you that he had hung up. Shoving your phone back into your coat pocket, you let your feet carry you to the till, where a young teenager dressed in a pale blue polo shirt and evergreen apron on top greeted you with a nervous smile.

Must have been new, or had some sort of social anxiety, from the way they avoided your eyes and fidgeted with their hands. “U-Um, hello. Welcome... What would you like?” the taller kid practically whispered, but you caught on to their words.

Sending a soft, warming smile, you answered, “can I have a buttered croissant with a mango and passionfruit iced tea, please? Actually, would you mind adding a chocolate muffin to that too?”

Nodding, they tapped the till, pressing various buttons before saying, “that’ll be 6,500 won, please.”

Pulled out your wallet and paid the employee. As you sat down, waiting on your order, you began to reminisce from when you used to be that age too--then again, it was not hard at all since it wasn’t too long ago.

Seven years ago, you were only 16, enjoying life just before things took a turn you never expected and you were never the same air-headed, happy-go-lucky kid you once were.

All you needed at the time was someone who was kind, who gave you a breath from the onslaught you faced all around you. Mingi was probably the only reason you’re still alive.

Thinking about the old days did more damage to you than you’d like to believe, but almost seemed impossible with the Dominic situation.

Being betrayed again hurt like hell, and although he wasn’t as bad as what you had experienced, he still broke your trust. Trust you tried to rebuild after all you went through the last time.

Thoughts you spent so long trying to get rid of grew back like weeds of the concrete walls you put up five years ago.

And despite what you tried to convince yourself and Mingi, you actually really liked the guy.

“Here you go, miss,” the young employee mumbled as he placed a tray with your order on it. Almost everything was right, except that there was a vanilla and chocolate chip muffin instead of a complete chocolate one.

Oh well, a muffin’s a muffin.

“Thank you,” you grinned, handing the teenager a tip of 10,000 won.

Their eyes widened at your strange generosity before hesitantly taking the money you held out between your index and middle fingers.

Your lips wrapped around the straw as you took a sip of your ice-cold drink. Strong tones of mango, with a hint of passionfruit, slight sweetness from honey and faint tang of fresh lemon.

Iced tea was something you had grown to love over the past five years, first time being too bitter and flavourful for you. Then again, the events prior left a bad taste in your mouth. Seonghwa was the one who helped you, always getting you an iced tea every time he went to a nearby coffee shop.

Learned quite quickly that your tongue was sensitive to heat after being so concerned how you refused piping-hot meals he cooked for you often. Waited until it cooled a lot before digging in.

No doubt the four boys would do anything for you--Mingi the most out of the rest since you wouldn’t be where you are without him--but sometimes you needed to breathe by yourself. Enjoying the little things you like croissants and muffins rather than focussing on your soon-to-be ex boyfriend cheating on you for a reason that eludes you.

That’s how the rest of the day goes.

Aimlessly walking, window-shopping, sight-seeing. Nothing registered in your mind but it was better than something negative.

Your phone was on silent, growing cold in your pocket from the lack of heat being transferred from your hand. Even then, you doubt anyone (except Dominic) would be texting you since you told them you wanted peace.

Before you realised it, the sun crawled above your head and began to set in the horizon, a clash of beautiful blues, oranges, pinks, and purples hovering in the sky. Lampposts along the streets lit up and the sky grew dark, yet that didn’t stop the hustle and bustle.

Irritated by the noises of people, you turned to an alleyway which had significantly less lighting but also significantly less humans.

As you walked, you were deep in thought, not thinking much of your surroundings. Then the hairs on the back of your neck stood up and a chill ran down your spine.

Someone was following you.

You were about to turn around and defend yourself--and you had no worries that you would lose. But then bright LED headlights of a hidden black SUV had highlighted the hair of a rather short person who stood in front of it.

Shocking electric blue stands brushed against his porcelain-smooth skin from light wisps of wind passing by. The same colour hair you realised had been barely peeking in your peripheral since the airport.

Next to a man you had very briefly met on you birthday dinner while searching for the bathroom.

Exactly how long have they been following you?

Though you chided yourself for not noticing it sooner--despite all the excuses of being ‘on a holiday’--you found yourself pondering. You had never met those two funky-haired people before in your life, and you sure as hell made sure any dangerous people couldn’t find you (not without going through one of the other boys first) so who exactly were these people?

Perhaps you were like a bee, drunk on the honey in your tea, or maybe you wanted to get your mind off the situation, needing a thrill at the moment.

You felt the need to destroy something--or at least toy with it for a bit--and these cocky assholes seemed perfect.

Either way, you relaxed your muscles (only a little, as to not raise suspicion of the young man before you).

One foot stepped behind you as you kept your eyes trained on his coco ones, only to rip them away a moment when you turned to ‘run’. As expected, something else tried to stop you. Another black SUV with blinding lights swerved into the other end of the alleyway as you tried to leave.

You’d prided yourself on good acting, and it always seemed to pay off. Right now, to sell the part of a scared girl, you stumbled backwards--planning to fall of the cobblestone path, but only to be saved by something hard.

The mysterious man’s chest, his hands holding your arms as support.

“Sorry about this,” he whispered in your ear, covering your mouth with a chloroformed cloth. You didn’t really put up much of a fight (to your standards, anyway) and succumbed to the strong chemical.

At first you were floating in a sea of black, unable to connect with your senses. Slowly, after moments of nothingness, you could feel the world materialise around you.

Soft fabric was cushioned beneath you, cradling your body with warmth. Light began to seep through your closed eyelids as the gentle, sweet smell of sugared almonds filled your nose with every deep inhale. And finally, a headache that began to pound harder with every pulse.

Grunting, you pried your eyes open, immediately noticing what appeared to be a shower room in front of you. There were two shower heads on each side, with only pillars of soft light embedded into the tiled wall rather than a proper partition. To add to the lack of privacy, the only material separating the shower room and the eyes of the bed was simply a thin pane of sliding glass which hid absolutely nothing.

“What kinda perv decided to design this monstrosity?”

Propping yourself up on your elbows, you looked down on the bed you were lying in, thankfully still in the same cotton dress, phone no longer in its pockets. The mattress was significantly softer than the one at the hotel--yet another indicator that your kidnappers were rich.

On the tables dotted around the space were lilac candles. Most likely the culprit of the amazing scent in the room.

Your eyes then caught the daylight peeking through the curtains, enlightening the room in a soft apricot glow. “Fuck,” you muttered, remembering Yunho’s words in the previous call she had, “they’re gonna kill me for staying out.”

Pushing yourself off the illegally comfortable bed, you inched towards the only door you saw. Fingers wrapped around the cold metal handle and pushed down, finding it much to your surprise that it was actually unlocked. Pulled it open without hesitation, though making sure you peered out to see if there was anyone.

There wasn’t.

“Great security, guys,” you sighed, actually feeling disappointed in the lack of effort you had to put in while walking openly around. After all, it was the reason you let yourself be taken.

Then again, this could all be a trap.

Now that was exciting.

You let yourself become familiar with the surroundings upon one glance, noticing the obvious luxurious colour scheme of gold and cream that had your eyes rolling at the basic rich vibes it gave you.

Then you found your breath catching in your throat as you continued to explore, eyes frozen on a portrait hung up on a wall.

Though the fact that it was a portrait of you had initially shocked you, it wasn’t the defining feature that had your heart palpitating at a dangerous speed. Your hair was short again, a pixie cut, while you were sat on a beach that looked a lot like the one you visited in Santorini.

“Fuckin’ hell.”

In fact, the painting was an exact replica of you from five years ago, down to the clothing of ripped jeans and loose top you wore. You, from one of your darkest and lowest moments.

“Are you lost, babygirl?”

The same voice rang in your ears, repeating the only sentence you heard spill from his lips. When you turned around to confirm who it was, it was indeed the same man you saw.

The damn muscular guy, with pitch-black hair and a lock of platinum blonde brushing just above an eye.

The blood was rushing too fast, fear in your eyes no longer an act. Just who the fuck was this guy?

You took one step back, knees buckling instantly but before your brain could process it, the man had wrapped his arms around you, catching your body before hit the ground.

San could smell the delicate citrusy aroma wafting from your skin and he tried so hard to not bury his head in the crook of your neck, to kiss the area and whisper sweet nothings into your ear.

Taking advantage of your frozen state, he lifted you up and place you on a nearby armchair, one beside a fireplace since he felt you were too cold for comfort.

Only until he had a ice cube pressed against your lips, did you snap out of it. “You should have it. Maybe you had a bad reaction to the chloroform. Sorry about that, by the way.”

Head turning the other way, your guarded eyes stayed locked on him rather than your painting behind his form. “English.”

“Why? You spoke perfectly good Korean at the dinner two days ago,” he said, pressing the ice cube onto your mouth once more.

“Simply because I feel more comfortable with English,” you remarked, swatting away his hand. “And stop putting that on my mouth.”

Sighing, he dropped the cold, melting cube back in the glass of whiskey before putting a bit of distance between the two of you. He could feel himself getting angry, that you won’t trust him, that you won’t listen to him.

But could he blame you?

“I feel like explanations are in order,” you said, narrowing your eyes down on his figure, flickering firelight resting on him to make him seem even more good-looking, shadows casted to make each feature appear sharper. But that wasn’t what you were focused on.

You wanted to deduce this stranger by his body language.

Stood tall, maintaining good eye contact, showed that he was confident. Classic black suits--expensive by the look of the fabric--showed that he as rich. Tattoos littering the skin of his hand showed a bit of a bad-boy nature. And the aura he emitted was that of a leader.

Corner of your lips twitching, you realised who--or what--he might be. The boss of a fairly powerful crime syndicate.

San, on the other hand, couldn’t see what you were thinking as you looked at him. Did you think he was as hot as he did you? Fuck, he hoped so--clearly not understanding how a normal person would react in such a situation.

“Hello? Earth to whoever the hell you are?”

“If you want answers, you certainly won’t be getting them if you act like a brat.”

Scoffing, you tilted you head, eyes boring into him with a cold glaze coving them. Like a lifeless doll. “Then how do you suggest I act then? Hmm? After seeing that you’ve been stalking me for the last five years,” you nodded towards coloured canvas, growing more unsettled every time you looked at it.

“Fair point,” he said, taking a seat on the chair opposite you. “But you should know that I haven’t been doing that. Stalking you, I mean.”

“The fuck do you call that creepy-ass portrait, then?”

“I call it a precious memory.” San shifted his focus from your gaze to the flames lazily dancing on charred wooden embers. Tongue swiped over his lips before chuckling, almost bitterly. “Doubt you’ll believe me, but I’ll tell you anyway.”

Lips pursed, you sat quietly as you listened to his story.

☕︎ Tag list: @little-precious-baby , @sparklychangbin ,

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jynxmynxwrites · 3 years

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autumn people types (re-post)

scented candles- short pastel coloured hair, shimmery but simple makeup, oversized glasses and jumpers, definitely one of the most chill people to be friends with, acoustic music, blanket nests, taking polaroid photos of the scenery, gentle halloween films

pumpkins- most chaotic energy, long wild hair that’s usually either black, dark red or bright orange, perfect eyeliner and small designs under their eyes, ripped jeans and tall buckled boots, photobombing friends, visiting and recording as many scary places as possible, hard rock music and bad singing

fallen leaves- another one with chill vibes, braided hair with bobble ties, reading with a lamp during sunsets, absolutely loves cats and probably has at least two, playing guitar over indie songs, gold blush dusted over their cheeks and nose, dimples, roadtrips with friends to get the most out of the good weather

hazelnut lattes- will definitely organise study sessions and any dates at the coziest cafes, has way too many fluffy cushions (they basically swamp the couch), freckles dusted across their face and on their joints, drinks way too much coffee but somehow doesn’t end up completely buzzed, visits the pet store a lot to say hi to the animals, lo-fi playlists in the background

marshmallows- absolutely adorable and gets excited over the little things, has definitely bought face glitter before, quite good at writing poems and will sometimes read them out at a friend’s request, loves going stargazing and can name a few constellations, comfy clothes like baggy jeans and oversized shirts, so supportive in everything, a bit ditzy

wicker baskets- lowkey chaotic: ‘do you think i could catch a badger? or do you think it would bite me?’, saves up all year and then blows the lot at cafes and bookstores, lives off of hot chocolate and caramel, has so many story ideas but never manages to write them down, goes apple picking for the last of the harvest, knows pretty much everyone on their street

cinnamon- kinda crazy ngl, like one minute they’re upset and shouting but then they’ll pause and just hug whoever they were mad at for half an hour, really fluffy curly hair, they don’t tend to dye it that much cause they want to keep it fluffy, love going dogwalking with their friends even though they don’t have a dog, collects keyrings and badges

another repost, same thing as what happened with the winter one. thank you for reading :)

- JynxMynx

#autumn #autumn aesthetic #types of people #character description #halloween #autumn things

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boop-le-snoot · 4 years

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PARTY FAVOURS I CHAPTER 18

First time reader click here

TWs/Summary: We stan ✨women in science✨. Bruce uwu. Twitter social media AU nobody asked for. Stephen and Tony are dicks and I'm not talking about their anatomy. Setting up mood for Bruce smut, ngl. PTSD makes things spicy. I'm depressed so please be kind ✌🏻💀🙃

"I really do wonder how can you two fit those egos of yours in your pants," I kept my tone forcefully casual, cheerful even. "Why don't you just fuck already?"

I was met with stunned silence. Suddenly, the room seemed far too large and the people in much too quiet, staring at me with various expressions of horror obvious in their faces. As the strange friendship began developing between me and the team, my "outbursts" - how Steve liked to call them - lessened considerably. I had no need to provoke them into giving me attention, just striking up a casual chat was enough. The Avengers were great conversationalists, to my surprise.

Tony and Stephen, when paired, were the exception. I could count on one hand the amount of times they successfully came to a conclusion without fighting like cats and dogs. It was like each man had made it a personal mission to verbally top the other, more often than not resulting in a thirty-minute shitshow ending with one storming off in a dramatic flourish. It was mind-boggling how two supremely intelligent men could not find a way to communicate efficiently without infuriating the rest of the team.

Plus me. One way or another, I was almost always around. In the beginning, it was hilarious to see the free circus but it got old really quickly when they couldn't decide on dinner or a movie, leaving the rest of us starving and bored. Or the great Cloak debate - that one lasted days and the fussy thing was so upset, it point blank refused to part from Peter for a substantial amount of time. It's pretty fucking creepy that a semi-sentient, ancient piece of outerwear watches you when you sleep - just sayin'. I personally interjected with my own snark and sass whenever Tony and Stephen got too heated, successfully drawing the attention to myself. The fight broke up and I had amazing sex with Tony later, it was a win-win scenario.

Yet, Tony and Stephen didn't stop. To me, their way of "talking" (and I use that term loosely) looked a lot like unresolved sexual tension. Stephen frequently used his greater height to tower over Tony in a childish attempt to establish dominance; the engineer was no rookie and responded with extravagant peacocking such as "subtly" tapping the bracelet that hosted his nanotech suit or parading at dinner in a $30,000 custom made designer outfit. Because Tony could.

I was pleasantly surprised when Natasha started laughing at my remark. Full-blown, belly laugh. Those were rare, coming from the Widow, her usual mirth was quiet, sophisticated, just like her. Deadly (adorable). Bucky followed suit, snorting together with Clint and Loki.

Steve looked none too pleased with me. But then again, was he ever? "Doll, don't be rude."

"Brat," Bruce said at the same time, palming his face.

"People always call me a brat. And guess what, Steve?" I popped my hip, twirling a cotton candy pink coloured Dum-Dum between my fingers. "What can you do about it? Nothing," I shrugged, leaning my head against Bruce's shoulder affectionately.

Steve just shook his head in disappointment. "Can we get back on topic? Please?"

"Captain, I think that Stark..." Strange began talking with Tony dramatically groaning in the background and I instantly tuned out the useless babble. Steve should've been smarter and revoked speaking rights from Tony and Stephen. Or asked Loki to magically render them both mute for ten minutes.

"You're not wrong," Bruce quietly whispered next to my ear. "Ten bucks says Wanda meddles and those two finally work out their frustrations," The scientist hid a grin against my head. I felt the amused, giddy energy radiating off him like a plasma beam.

"I don't even have to bet," I rolled my eyes. "If she doesn't do it, I will."

Both Tony and Stephen were throwing me equally infuriated glances. One promised me a good, hard fucking and the other saw me a short, poisonous lecture on appropriate behaviour in the nearest future - you can guess which is which. If I had it my way, I'd skip the lecture and go straight to a hot, filthy threesome with two men twice my age. I wasn't blind, Strange was hot as hell and could be decent and even nice once in a blue moon.

He could, but he wouldn't be. I wanted that raw, unadulterated lust, tension so concentrated it walked the razor's edge between violent craving and repulsion. Ever since the incident with Clint, I had this ugly mess inside of me, like a live wire about to snap. My brain was constantly racing, darting between how utterly useless I am in a group of supers and embracing my normal-ness, amplifying it by hosting game nights and spending time trying to convince people to start a dungeons and dragons campaign. Or something.

My sleep was like Swiss cheese, riddled with holes where I stayed awake for one or two hours at a time in the middle of the night after waking up sweaty, with my heart hammering out of my chest. Sometimes I dreamt of Clint's lifeless, sickly white body, sometimes the whole room flooded with blood and I couldn't stop it no matter what, there was so much of it, I drowned in it, I startled up with the taste of it in my mouth. Rarely, the worst of it came - the one where Clint was alive as millions of millions of little fluorescent, poisonous jellyfish burst out of him and he screamed and screamed and screamed...

I had PTSD. Yay, me. As if my uselessness wasn't enough of a burden, my brain decided for me that it wasn't good enough that I saved Clint and now it was punishing me for being close to a group of people who routinely saved the WORLD.

I contemplated my usual habits - going to a party, getting trashed and dancing until my legs were numb. I just wanted to shut my brain off for a moment, give it a hard reset so-to-say, but with Tony on my back like a jet-pack, I didn't doubt he'd show up to the place and drag me out of there even if I was kicking and screaming. And he was a Stark, a billionaire, so visiting my dad in Cali wouldn't be possible on my own. Tony would gas up the jet and the rest of the team would find and excuse to tag along, too. As much as I loved being the baby menace who could get away with anything, I hated the way they all herded me, like I was an actual child. I couldn't get away from myself, not even for a moment.

I had the backup-backup plan and I was going to have to execute it. Desperate times, desperate measures. "I don't doubt y'all enjoy listening to Tony and Steph flirt," The nickname escaped unmoderated from my lips before I could catch myself. "But what are we doing for Halloween? I need to know if I gotta get a costume," Bruce chuckled next to me and wrapped an arm around me, happy for the distraction. Unlike me, the scientist was obligated to listen and participate in the avengers-themed discussion. Which was difficult because the engineer and the sorcerer constantly bickered, inadvertently taking over the talk.

"Halloween?" Steve groaned.

"We should do something," Bucky side-eyed his boyfriend. "For the children." Something told me he wasn't thinking of the children, at all. The man was positively leering, probably thinking about what kind of a tight suit he could convince Steve to squeeze into.

"A party!" Tony immediately exclaimed, interrupting Stephen mid-setence.

"Tony, no," Steve stated firmly.

"Tony, YES!" Clint perked up. "A snack bar. A bar-bar."

"I will not be helping you all if you get alcohol poisoning," Stephen crossed his arms.

"So it's a party," I stated firmly, throwing a contemplating look at Wanda and Pietro. The twins looked unsure but excited. I knew I could count on fellow young people to support my decision to have fun, dance a little, drink a little. Let loose. To nail my point, I turned to Bruce with a mischievous smirk. "Fifty bucks says Stephen is too stuck up to show up in costume."

"Beg pardon?!" The sorcerer exclaimed. His eyebrows threatened to meet his hairline.

"I think you give him too little credit, Princess," Bruce winked at me and we solemnly shook hands. It was great having a fellow partner in mischief. Loki's approving smirk just sealed the deal for me.

"It's not my fault you sometimes act like you have a stick up your butt," I gave in the way of explanation, shrugging my shoulders innocently in Stephen's direction. "I'm just pointing out the obvious."

"I don't dare to imagine what's been up yours," The sorcerer retorted dryly, in an uncharacteristically childish fashion, arms still crossed. It almost looked like he was pouting.

"Tony," I simply said, leering salaciously at the man.

"Ooh, kinky," Clint reached over and we promptly high-fived each other in the wake of multiple embarrassed groans emanating around the room. "Strange, you're a boring old man, get over it."

"And you regularly end up in dumpsters, Barton," Strange retorted quickly. "Not my idea of fun."

"You wouldn't know fun if it hit you in the face!" Tony grinned triumphantly, confident in his superiority over Strange. Look at that, the team was doing the work for me and I didn't even have to try.

"I'll show you fun," Stephen retorted darkly. It was obvious the man was planning something.

"Ok, boomer," I raised my eyebrows in muted satisfaction before turning around and grabbing Bruce to drag along with me. "I'm confiscating your best scientist to amuse myself. I am bored. We will go and do actual science whilst y'all argue. Bye."

My patience had run out. We were examining the parasites we found in the murder-anthropods-from-space, codename MAFS, courtesy of yours truly, and their amazing properties to penetrate cell membranes and feed on metals in organic life forms. Without Bruce's help I understood maybe half of it but he had the patience of a saint and dutifully and understandably explained to me the finer points of studying aliens. Signing half a dozen NDAs was never more worth it.

Steve's sigh consisted of 99% suffering and 2% disappointment. Natasha face-palmed silently in the corner, clutching a mug of coffee, a poster child for existential dread.

"Wait for me," Tony whined, going for the door and promptly being stopped by Steve pointing out the team needing his input on one mission or another. The engineer sighed. "Baby girl, don't let the green mean to start any experiments without me." Tony instructed, pointing an accusatory finger in our direction.

I clutched at Bruce dramatically, feigning hurt feelings and was rewarded with a swift motion of his arms. I shrieked delightfully at being thrown over the scientist's shoulder as he hastened his pace towards the elevator, hightailing it out of there. "I'd never snitch on science daddy," I wiggled my eyebrows in Tony's direction, sticking a hand down the back pocket of Bruce's pants, dangling over his shoulder like a happy sack of potatoes.

The lab smelled strongly of alcohol and bitter chemicals, the solution that Bruce developed to ensure the optimal state of the alien pathogens. The man's genius never ceased to amaze me: Bruce came up with the needed formula in the span of a few hours while running low on sleep, post a Hulk-out session.

We put on our protective gear - "science onesies" I called them - along with a respirator and goggles and set to the segregated part of the lab where the specimens were kept under a blue light. The glass wall between Bruce's and Tony's lab was dimmed; I reflected in it, looking positively futuristic in my double-stacked white platformed boots and white hazmat suit.

"Wait," I motioned to Bruce to come over.

"Oh, right, our music," He was already half-way to being in total Science Mode. "Friday, please put on the "Get Schwifty" playlist, 60% volume."

The playlist that me and Bruce came up with for our lab sessions. The man was such an adorable dork. Thirty percent my music, thirty percent of his indie rock shit and forty percent 00's bops. In other words, utter perfection.

I finally managed to fish out my phone from my pants. "No, let's take a selfie," I struck an impressive pose and pointed the camera as Avril Lavigne sung the first verse to Sk8r Boi.

Bruce laughed but abided by the request, giving me bunny ears in the photo, tapping the fingers of his other hand on my waist to the rhythm of the song.

"He was a skater boy, she said see ya later boy!" I sang along, switching my Instagram to stories and posting the short clip of us just vibing with the caption #sciencetime, Bruce laughing openly behind his respirator. I looked cute and silly in my outfit.

"Send the video to me, I'll post it on my Twitter," Bruce requested. I indulged him then put my phone away, ready to conquer the world of microbiology. Or die trying. Science was calling...

THE TAG LIST IS NOW OPEN! @another-stark-sub @mostly-marvel-musings @vozit @littlegasps @pilloclock @shereadsinquiet @downeyreads @hermione-grangers-wife @individualistfem @sleep-i-ness @capbrie @lillsxd @agustdowney @dee-vn @justanotherblonde23 @fanngirl19 @persephonehemingway @softie-socks @schemefrenzy @letsby @cutenessloading @romeo-the-cactus @jelly-fishy-babie

#stephen strange x y/n #bruce banner x y/n #tony stark x y/n #stephen strange x you #bruce banner x you #tony stark x you #stephen strange x reader #bruce banner x reader #tony stark x reader #party favours #bun writes #avengers social media au

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