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moon-ttokki-x · 6 months ago

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minty - bf!han jisung x female reader

pairing: han jisung x female reader

summary: when everything bursts into flames, there will always be someone to put it out.

genre: fluff, idol! au, heavy on the angst, panic attack, sensory overload, anger outburst out of frustration, negative thoughts, inferiority complex, feeling left behind. this one is a little sadder, not my usual writing, so read ahead at your own risk.

a/n: kinda having a bad time rn so i wrote this. also my masterlist just deadass stopped working so i have to remake it TT new masterlist will be up soon don't panic guys

You're laying on the floor face-down when Jisung comes home from the company.

He enters your shared bedroom, humming a new unreleased track, and finds you near to the floor-to-ceiling window, curled up in a ball. Your jacket is tossed somewhere behind you and you're not even aware that Jisung is home until he bends down and taps your shoulder.

"Jagi," he says, smiling in greeting.

You don't turn. Your head feels like it's made of lead and you can't seem to find the energy to even twitch a finger. And you feel bad because you know Jisung is tired too, and here you are, ignoring him because you're selfish and lazy and not good enough for anything-

"Y/n," Jisung says again, a little softer.

You do turn your head then. It's not much of a turn, to be honest; more like a slow, sluggish effort to move your head to the right. Your look over your shoulder and he's sitting there, knees to his chest, smiling down at you.

His headphones are slung around his neck as per usual, the headphone cord wrapped loosely around his wrist. His blue hair is flopping attractively into his eyes and the neckline of his band shirt slips a little to the left, revealing a sliver of collarbone.

Some of the skin there is slightly red, and you know it's because he probably worked out his shoulders and torso before coming back home.

You feel even worse at the thought of him working out; why can't you be the same? Why can't you just get up and be productive and multitask and live a good life and be happy like everyone else? Like him? Was that sort of thing not meant for you? Success and friendships and contentment and normalcy?

Because here is Jisung, so many achievements under his belt, so many talents and aspirations and thoughts and dreams, and there you are behind him, struggling to keep up with even the simplest of tasks in your own life.

And it's not just him; lately it feels like everyone else is sprinting ahead, while you're lagging behind, confused. Winded. Out of breath.

Losing energy.

It feels the same even now. Usually making eye contact and being close to Jisung fills you with strength, but today it seems even he can't wash away your thoughts. You wonder how bad it can be if even Jisung, your number one supporter, can't seem to even slightly unclasp the boulder shackles from around your ankles.

And the yet-again nagging thought of always being left behind culminates the peak of your bottled desperation.

And everything is Wrong.

The floor feels rough and uncomfortable all of a sudden, grating against your skin, scratching at the pores, and your clothes are too tight and restricting, digging into the soft curves and peaks of your figure, tightening around you like a python winds about its prey.

Jisung is still sitting there next to you; he must have realised you didn't feel like talking. He's staring out the window, still singing softly to the track, gaze unfocused but content. He understands; he has days like yours too. But right now it feels different, and suddenly you want nothing more than for him to just leave. To just go.

And that thought makes you feel awful.

You feel all hot and irritated like you've been put into an oven on high heat, and you rake a hand through the limp strands of your hair, the tickling flyaways suddenly causing a sudden surge of boiling hot frustration to pour through your veins.

Everything goes up in flames and before you know it, you're shoving Jisung's hand away and storming into the living room, throwing yourself down on the couch and then violently tossing yourself about because even touching the couch feels Wrong too. The leather sticks to your skin and the shuffling sounds are too noisy and sound more like nails being dragged down a chalkboard.

You let out a half-hearted scream and even that feels pathetic. Like you've tried to blow a whistle and all that came out was a sad little wheeze. The noise floats into the air and absorbs into the stillness. You want to scream again but it won't help; no matter how much noise you make, it will never be enough to quiet the wildfires searing across your nerves and seemingly into the core of your brain.

But the flames begin to sizzle, and like all fires do, it begins to die down.

You're left in the smoldering aftermath; the human form of it, anyway, which consists of sobbing like a child face-down in the couch, your body draped uncomfortably across the lounge.

It's almost an hour before Jisung tiptoes into the living room; he peeks over the back of the couch before cautiously moving to sit in front of you, about a metre away. And it's not that he's afraid of your sudden outburst, no, not at all. He knows not to touch you for now, to keep a distance, so as not to trigger you further.

He's silent for a moment; you miserably raise your head, a picture of defeat, eyes puffy and red with tears. You sniff and scrub at your face, wanting to get rid of the Feeling, the one that makes your jaw feel all sour and your head dizzy, the way it always feels after you cry.

Jisung chides you softly, gently reaching out to smooth a singular finger over the irritation you've caused across the delicate skin of your cheekbones. He's testing the water, so when nothing bursts out to bite his hand off, and the temperature seems reasonably cool, he moves just a little closer and gently pats your shoulder.

"What's wrong?" he says softly, almost inaudibly.

"Everything," you sob, the sound causing a terrible racking pain through Jisung's chest. It sounds so hollow, so lonely and desperate.

And yet so filled with hope, but hope that is slowly dying, losing its intensity, like you know in your heart that utilizing it won't really help anything. At least not anymore.

You don't expect Jisung to understand. How could he ever, when the terrible, tumultuous storm of horrible thoughts and feelings in your head is making it hard to understand yourself in the first place?

And you're right. Jisung doesn't understand. He looks bewildered but also empathetic. He looks the way people look when they sort of expect something to happen but it still shocks them when it does.

So he sits, not understanding but also knowing, and strokes your shoulder, keeping the rhythm of it, smooth and constant and flowing, dousing the flames, ever so slowly.

And you can't even try to explain how you feel, or what's wrong, and you can't even find it in yourself to apologise for so violently bursting out at him, but the look in Jisung's eyes tell you that no words are necessary. Not from you anyway.

"I love you," he says quietly after a while, still soft, still a little bit bewildered. But there is no doubt in his words.

And a weak, watery smile manages to tug at the corners of your mouth. At least you think it does; in reality, your face doesn't move an inch, still drawn tensely in rife and despair. But something in your eyes shifts slightly and Jisung knows you well enough to know what that shift means.

The searing flames die down completely, the ash rising and dissipating into a quiet, still, air, and when Jisung draws his hand back, his fingers are stained in still-warm charcoal.

You look at him, still heaving and exhausted; he smiles a tiny bit, like he's not sure whether it might set you off again or make you feel worse. But he does anyway, and the air begins to feel a lot cooler around you as he speaks.

"I brought you something from the company," he whispers, his fingers dancing along the thick seams of the leather couch.

You blink once, slowly, the movement taking a ridiculous amount of energy, which has dwindled to its last stores.

Jisung smiles, almost uncharacteristically shyly, and draws a little rectangular tin out of his dark, worn jeans. He lifts it to your eye level and holds it out on his palm.

On closer inspection, you see it's a little container, the plastic dyed a cool blue-green. There's a small flap on the top for flicking open and dispensing what looks like little sweets.

"Peppermints," Jisung says softly, a little shyly. "They help me when I feel all shaky and irritable. Chan-hyung keeps a pack in his bag for me too, just in case I start feeling anxious at events or concerts... maybe it'll help you too."

You sniff and let him put one of the mints on your palm. You lift it to your mouth and the sensation is immediately refreshing, a growing, almost cool-burn that seems to ease the aching tension that's set itself into your muscles.

It tastes slightly salty from the sweat on your palms, but it disappears as you roll it over your tongue. You exhale a tense breath you didn't know you'd been holding.

You blink again, even slower, hoping that Jisung knows it means thankyou. And he seems to understand, because he tips the container up a little, taking one of the mints himself with a grin.

a/n: hello yes i would like to order one jisung please

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celestialsymbiosis · 9 months ago

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Love and Mercy p.1 - Rick Grimes x reader

I know it's October.

But here's a little something on the group's first winter in Alexandria:

u_u

“What’re you doin’?”

Rick’s voice is heavy with sleep, quiet but enough to break the silence in the house as he shuffles closer to where you’re kneeling. You don’t need to see him to know he’s got that almost permanently etched frown on, the soft dip between his eyebrows.

You tilt your head up in greeting, focused on your task, skillfully wrapping items with old newspapers you’d found on a run earlier that week. “Nothing,” you mumble, as if it were enough, your fingers pressing down on the paper with a sleepy determination. You hunch over them to shade from Rick’s view. “Go away.��

Rick hums, depositing himself onto the couch. “No. Missed you in bed. Don’t think I don’t know you’ve been sneaking away from me. I’m onto you.”

“You’re not onto shit,” you reply, hands splayed over your projects.

“Hey,” he lilts, nudging your back with his knee. “What is it?”

There’s a soft noise you release at that, something like annoyance. “Can’t say. It’s not time yet.”

“Time for what?”

You groan, turning around to put your chin up on his knee, looking up at him. “Christmas.”

“You’re still on that?” Rick’s eye twitches a little.

It had been a few weeks ago when the cool air starting breezing through Alexandria. With Winter on the brink and the group relatively settled and sheltered for the first time in years, you’d off-handedly mentioned the season’s festivities.

Rick hadn’t been too keen on it however. He was everything but settled into the new Alexandrian lifestyle you had found easy to slip into. On edge and restless, as if the universe would detect his comfort and throw it’s next disaster his way. He’d informed the rest of you all, with a hand poised on his belt and fingers itching for the Colt Python Deanna had stored away. Be ready, we can’t let our guard down.

That may have been weeks ago, but Rick never truly looked comfortable here even now- though you’re not sure he ever did. So between his stubbornness, the fact that Judith hadn’t ever celebrated a holiday, and your proclivity to do first and ask for forgiveness later, you were set on doing something small for the kids at the very least.

Something to finally look forward to.

You had gone to Deanna first, telling her of your plans to bring some cheer for Carl and Jude. Her eyes sparkled in that way they seemed to do when she was inspired by something so normal- but she sadly revealed they really did not pack shiny wrapping paper in the community. You weren’t derailed however.

Any time you were on the run, you tried grabbing things the family would’ve enjoyed that would be painfully human. Glenn laughed when you handed him a new baseball cap, Tara nodded appraisingly at the palm tree snow globe, shaking it around aggressively to see the tiny white flakes swim around.

So, you had immediately pushed the few issues you’d found of Y: The Last Man for Carl inside your backpack. The stuffed lamb you came across would need to be cleaned and fluffed, but it had made the cut for Judith’s gift.

Rick noticed when you started crumpling newspapers into your bag, though, raising an eyebrow.

“Figured we could do something for the kids,” you had said, moving to the next aisle to get some actual supplies too.

“For what?” Rick’s gruff voice intoned, a hint of a warning behind it. You weren’t quite sure why he even had an issue with the idea of a gift-giving celebration; it’s not like the rest of you haven’t passed items to each other before.

Kneeling in front of him now, the soft sound of snow pattering down outside and the hum of one of Deanna’s heaters, you nose at his knee.

“Baby, you gotta- can you relax?” you say a little exasperatedly. “I cannot believe this is even a conversation we need to have when we literally deal with the dead. Is this like, Christmas related trauma or something that I need to be aware of?”

Rick rolls his eyes. “No.”

“Then what’s your damage?”

He scratches his arm, looking at the gifts you’ve wrapped with a suddenly weary sigh. “No damage.”

You tilt your head up at him curiously, tapping his hand to pull him out.

“I just don’t want…” he groans softly, looking down at you before tangling a hand in your hair. “I don’t want to give them hope so soon. We don’t know how well these walls are gonna hold up when a hoard comes by. We don’t know if this community will survive anything yet. I don’t want to give Carl and Judith this and then have to take it away again.”

When you continue to just stare at him impassively, he nods with a huff, leaning back further back into the couch. “I know, I know,” he waves his hand vaguely. “Trust me- I can hear myself too.”

“So you’re aware that you’re being… difficult?” You choose your words carefully. Rick must find it amusing at the very least because he smiles almost sheepishly. “They need to know there’s more to life than everything we’ve gone through. You’re not taking anything from them. You can give them these moments, the time to just be children.”

“I’d just… feel bad if anything happened. ”

You hum, his baby blue eyes glazed over with some far away memory for a mere second before they focus back on you. “Everyone’s okay, Rick. We’re all okay here. You don’t need to be so on all the time anymore,” you drop a kiss on his knee. “You’ve done so much for us already. Just- slow down.”

He considers this, considers what you’re saying to him. “A day,” he concedes. “I can slow down for a day. Only tomorrow.”

You let out a startled laugh. “So you’re declaring Christmas to be tomorrow? You’re just choosing?”

“Yes,” he nods once, rubbing his jaw like it’s a hard decision to make. “You get your day, and then I want you with me to assess the barricades. I can’t do it alone.”

You nod easily. “I’ll need help on the decorations. We don’t have much,” you gesture at the crinkled paper and frail twine on the ground. “Don’t suppose we can cut a small tree down with your hatchet?”

“I’ll figure out your decorations, just-“ he beckons you forward, pulling you up easily to straddle his lap, “come here for now.”

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Title's from the Gazelle version of Love and Mercy that plays in the show!

part 2 is nsfw and posted here!

and all together on ao3.

#the walking dead #rick grimes #rick grimes x reader #rick grimes x you #the walking dead fanfiction #rick grimes twd

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msweebyness · 2 months ago

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MiracOlympus- Luka

🎶Feel the beat and just let go, get the rhythm into your soul!🎶 @imsparky2002 @booksrbetterthanpeople @nerdy-chocomallow

Luka, God of Music & Prophecy (aka Apollo)

Appearance/Attire: Upper back-length, shaggy black hair, tied in a braid, turquoise eyes with flecks of green, blue, and gold, moderate tanned skin, teal snake tattoo that goes up right arm, lean and athletic build. Wreath of laurel leaves and thistle on his head, golden wrist cuffs with silver music notes, teal one-shoulder toga with golden music staves stitched along the hems, silver snake belt, golden sandals. Usually carrying his golden, seven-stringed lyre.

Bio: If there’s one god that helps keep Olympus in harmony and feeling the rhythm, it’s Luka. The god of music is a huge proponent of resolving conflicts peacefully and always does his best to help maintain the groovy vibes between his fellow gods. Luka’s skill in the musical arts are praised by both mortals and immortals alike, with his skills on the lyre rivaled by none. It’s this that gives him such a close friendship with the muses. He also deeply cares for both his twin sister Juleka and his mother Anarka, with disrespecting them being one of the few ways to anger him. Luka’s most incredible gift besides his musical talent is that of his power of prophecy. He can see into the future (to an extent) and it’s for this reason that the other gods often look to him for guidance and advice. He’s usually pretty good with this, but he’s not quite as smooth when it comes to his crush on the war goddess.

Fun Facts!

Luka may not like to fight, but he will when he has to. When Python, a massive monster of a snake, was plaguing the lands of Mount Parnassus, the music-loving people of which Luka was rather fond of, he took matters into his own hands. He first attempted to peacefully convince the snake to leave, but when Python refused and attacked him, he took the snake down with a perfectly aimed golden arrow to the forehead. The people wanted to build a temple in his honor, which gave him an idea…

When the people of Parnassus had built him a humble but beautiful temple on the mountain’s slope, Luka decided to put his gift of clairvoyance to good use. He made the temple the host of his Oracle, the voice through which he would speak his visions of the future to mortals. After much deliberation, he chose the nymph Diane as his Oracle, sharing his visions and prophecies with her through psychic connection. People would come from all over the ancient world to hear of their futures.

Everyone knows that Luka’s music skills are unrivaled, with only the Muses able to square up to him in that regard. So when a foolish satyr named Marsyas said that he could outplay the god of music on his flute, the immortals’ code of honor said Luka couldn’t take that lying down. It was decided there would be a contest between the two, with the Muses and Marsyas’ friend, King Midas (you’ll hear more about him when Nino comes around!) presiding as judges. The Muses, obviously, picked Luka’s far superior lyre performance, but Midas stubbornly voted for Marsyas. The muses were affronted by this, and it was Jean who commented that the king “must have the ears of an ass to think something so stupid!” Luka, having a sense of humor and knowing he needed to set an example, gave Midas the ears of a donkey to teach him a lesson! Not the worst punishment he could have gotten, by a long shot, but one he surely wouldn’t forget!

HE CAN SEE THE FU-TUURE. Leave your thoughts in the comments and reblogs.

#miraculous ladybug #miracolympus #luka couffaine #Apollo #greek gods au #mlb au

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finniestoncrane · 10 months ago

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KTJL!Boomer x Fem!Reader, word count: 850 sooooo long ago i was discussing with some people how disgustingly hot boomer would find beer if it was involved in sex, so... yeah. i'm not a beer person, so i'm pretending this is a wee can of tennents lmao💙 request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: beer drinking, beer play/food play, suggestive flirting, reader has tits (kind of ample ones i guess!)

"Wanna see my party trick?"

It was all George could do to act cool. Underneath his seemingly permanent smirk, crooked smile, slightly upturned nose, raised eyebrow, you could almost make out the faint blush on his freckled cheeks, a little bit of a tremble on his bottom lip as he wondered what that party trick might be.

"Well?"

"Alright then, Sheila. Show us what you've got."

As you excitedly jumped up from the sofa and headed to the kitchen, he let his mind wander. He was an optimist, after all. Of course, he knew you were only trying to break the awkward silence between you as you lazed on his sofa. It wasn't the best date he'd ever taken someone on. But it was difficult to think of something romantic to do when his idea of a good time was getting too drunk to move and then having someone else jump onto his lap and do all the work. Three beers in and you didn't look like you were going to start jumping any time soon. So he would take excitement where he could. If that meant pretending that your party trick was unhinging your jaw like a python and taking all of him in it, then he was content to live in that daydream.

It would have been impossible for him to know you were feeling as tense and desperate as he was. Mostly, because it seemed impossible for anyone to ever be as desperate as George Harkness. You'd expected a bit more when he'd invited you over to his place for drinks, and you were determined to get it. A bit of overtly seductive flirting was what the situation called for, and you knew exactly what kind of trick would get him drooling.

You returned from the small, messy kitchenette with a bottle of beer in hand.

"That's your trick? Fetching a beer? It's not bad, but you're not winning Crufts any time soon, girl."

As you walked to the sofa you rolled your eyes, stopping in front of him with a half-hearted smile.

"It's a bit more impressive than that, actually. I need you to stand up though."

"Aw, what? I have to do something? It's hardly your trick then, is it?"

"George. Stand up. I promise, it'll be worth it."

The way your lips curled into a knowing grin sent a tingle of electricity over him, quickly travelling down his length. He was standing up, a move so quick you barely registered it. Ready for anything. And once he was there in front of you, you sank to your knees.

George's mind began racing as he stared down at you, catching your eyes looking back up at him from your position on the floor at his feet. Maybe he was right. Maybe your party trick would be unveiling an up to now hidden ability to take all of his impressive girth and length in your mouth at one time. Down to the balls, something no one else had ever been able to do before out of the very limited few who were actually willing to try.

Your fingers took hold of his belt buckle, working at it to undo it. But as he braced himself for you to undo his fly and free his cock, you stopped, instead gripping the buckle with one hand and reaching for the bottle of beer with the other.

Much to his amusement, you placed the cool bottle between your breasts, grimacing and shivering at the sensation of the cold, wet glass on your skin. And then, leaning in to him, pulling the buckle down and undoing the beer. As you sank back down onto your heels, the beer frothed up and foamed over the lip, liquid spilling out over the spout and onto your breasts. Without even realising it, George licked his lips.

Trying to stop the overflow of foam, you leaned forward and closed your lips around the long neck of the bottle, letting your mouth sink a little. He'd never considered before how entirely arousing it would be to bring beer into the bedroom, but you were inspiring him. His mind was racing, his face flushing with heat as his cock twitched against his underwear.

You sucked the neck of the bottle a little longer, removing your mouth with a pop. A quick glance down showed you the mess you had made. Your chest glistening with slightly sticky liquid. Once you had placed the bottle on the table, you lifted your hands to cup at your breasts, lifting your gaze to George, finding him focused on your body.

"Look at the mess I've made. If only there was someone who enjoyed beer who could clean it up for me."

He wiggled with excitement, like an enthusiastic puppy. If he'd had ears, they would have perked up, his tail would have been wagging. His tongue... well, his tongue actually was out, panting in anticipation of getting to lap at your breasts.

With a quick flit of his eyes to yours, you caught the mischievous glint as he moved to you.

"That was a good trick, Sheila. Now let me show you mine."

#shouting lager lager lager lager #captain boomerang #digger harkness #george harkness #captain boomerang x reader #captain boomer x you #captain boomerang fanfic #finnie writes #x reader

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strxngersmind · 11 months ago

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nothing ruins my immersion more than media that wants me to think ball pythons are scary. you mean the animal who's top defense mechanism is Become Rock? the other common alternative i see are fuckn corn snakes. corn snakes. yk. the snake thats skinnier than a wide belt with the defense mechanism of Become Stinky.

not scary! and this scene is now hilarious to me because of how Not Scary the snakes they chose are.

#like you could at least pick some carpet pythons or something! ive seen a few Brazilian rainbow boas and those look great!#i can at least suspend my disbelief with less common species #i Cannot do that with the Most Common Pet Snakes #that are in every pet store sitting there like :3 #i understand that actor safety is a concern but consider!#we shouldn't be covering people in multiple snakes for the sake of the shot #but that's another conversation #crow.txt #reptiblr

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the-californicationist · 2 years ago

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he takes your breath away

MDNI/18+

Captain Price is sick of your poor performance, and he decides to give you his own demonstration on the practice mat.

TW: choking, dark!Price

AO3 Link

“Again, Corporal! Get up, you muppet,” Captain Price’s cruel growl stung your ears as he shouted at you, “At least try to put up a fight, would you?”

You dragged yourself to your feet. Your braid was tangled, your body was sore, and you were drenched in sweat.

“I’m trying, sir,” you may have been tired, but you still had some fight in you.

Price narrowed his eyes at you,

“Prove it. Lieutenant Riley, on your mark.”

“Aye, sir,” Ghost responded.

Ghost at least had the decency to be panting a little. You’d been at this sparring match for an hour and a half. Price wanted you to break out of choke holds, but you’d gotten pinned time after time.

You squared up to Ghost again, a full foot shorter than him and a hundred pounds lighter. It was nowhere near a fair fight, but neither of you fought fair. Terrorists didn’t adhere to any rules of engagement, so Price insisted that you practice how you play. The masked soldier lunged for you, but he telegraphed it - or you were getting better at picking up on his tells. Either way, you dodged his attack and kicked his leg out from under him without hesitation. He fell, but reached around and took you with him, wrapping his arms around your head and squeezing your throat until you tapped out.

“That’ll do, Lieutenant. I’ll take it from here,” Price said, his tone laden with disappointment.

Ghost grabbed his bag and headed for the showers. Your captain gazed down at you with his hands on his hips, and then he sighed as if he had reached some sort of conclusion. He took off his hat, tossing it to the floor, and ripped his shirt over his head, folding it half-heartedly and throwing it down. He didn’t give you a chance to square up to him. Price lunged, quicker and more ruthless than Ghost had ever done, and you felt a jolt of adrenaline in your veins. The captain’s eyes were cold and unfeeling like a shark, but every bit as hungry. He was out for blood.

You rolled away just in time, slipping from his grasp. You managed to get to your knees before he slammed his body into yours and knocked the air out of your lungs. His huge, hairy arm curled around your neck like a python, constricting your air and waiting for you to yield. You tapped out on his elbow almost immediately, giving up on yourself. He didn’t let go. You tapped again, your breaths becoming harder and harder to inhale as he tightened further. You gasped,

“Captain…what…?”

“Out there,” Price whispered, “no one will take it easy on you. There are no second chances in the field. If your enemy is foolish enough to keep his knife in his belt, you have less than a second to get free. So…go on, girl. Get free, or I’ll choke you out.”

“But…” You protested. Sparring was practice, and he never let anyone put another soldier in any real danger.

“Either you fight me like you want to live, or I’ll send you to the medic and take you off the team. Your choice.”

Live or die. It was as real as it was going to get. You started to push at his arm roughly. It didn’t budge. You elbowed him in the ribs, hard enough to hurt, but not hard enough to break a bone. He laughed into your ear, his voice sinister,

“If you’re going to faff about, just go limp, love. Make it easier for me to cut your lights out.”

You elbowed him again, much harder this time. He grunted, but tightened his arm. You were truly choking now, and you began to panic. You scratched at his face, his skin, and went for his crotch, punching back, hoping anything would land. You kicked at him with your legs, struggling in earnest. He coached you as he killed you,

“That’s it, babe. Fight for your fuckin’ life. Show no bloody mercy. C’mon!”

You headbutted him, connecting with his nose and hearing a crack. He released you, reacting to your attack, and you rolled away, coughing, trying to get oxygen back into your lungs. He was bleeding all over his mouth and beard, and it dripped onto his neck. You glanced over at him, ready for him to shout at you again, but he was smiling like a maniac.

“Yes, love. That’s the right way. Why are you holding back?”

“You told us not to hurt each other,” you whispered, your voice hoarse.

“No,” he pulled you to your feet, “I told you not to end up in the med office. There’s a difference. C’mon, again.”

“Captain! I can’t. You’re bleeding,” you protested.

“And? Do you think the enemy will give up after you break his nose? No, he’ll fight harder,” Price grabbed you around the neck with his bare hand, shoving you backwards toward the wall, pinning you into it, “Are you really going to make me watch you die out there, or are you going to start taking this seriously, Corporal?”

You hit his elbow and knocked his hand out of place before ramming him, full force, taking him to the ground. You’d surprised him, and you capitalized on that opportunity, clamoring onto his back and wrapping him just as the lieutenant had done to you, trying to make him tap out.

He tossed you off of him like you were a rag doll, gripping you cruelly at the nape of your neck and pulling you back into him,

“Not good enough. You need to fight harder, girl. There’s men out there bigger and meaner than me. Come on. Dig deeper!”

You tried to kick him again, turning your hips so your leg could reach, and this time, your ass connected to his groin, jamming into it. You froze as soon as you felt it. Price was as hard as a stone. He knew that you felt him, tightening his hand around the back of your neck in silent response.

“Captain…?” You whispered, confused and exhausted, not understanding.

“Corporal,” he groaned, “You’ve got my blood up, you have. Fightin’ like a little demon. You’re tough as nails, and it’s damn hot. More than an hour of dealing with Ghost and you’re still able to make me bleed? Makes me wonder what else you’re capable of.”

He grunted, putting you back into a chokehold, closing off your airway immediately. No more practice rounds.

Your head spun, but your instincts took over and you sent two sharp blows to Price’s jaw before he moved his head out of the way. You returned to his rib, elbowing the same spot as you had before, earning yourself a pained groan. Then, he used his other arm to fully bind your body, trapping you against him. You writhed, slamming yourself back into him, trying to gain purchase.

“C’mon, love, use your head. Figure it out.”

You felt your leg pressing against his, and you wrapped it behind his knee. If you straightened his leg out at this angle, you’d break the joint. You started to do it, but something stopped you. He was legitimately taking your air from you, and yet you couldn’t bring yourself to injure him.

“They won’t show you any mercy, girl! Do what you need to do,” he shouted at you.

You shook your head, your voice strained and barely intelligible.

“No, sir.”

“Very well.”

He released you for a moment, and you felt air burn through your chest as you sucked it in, then he wrapped you up again, only allowing you to breathe in shallow, struggling gasps. Price lay back, trapping your legs with his, spreading them apart. He was kissing your neck as he choked you, moving his mouth messily around his huge grip, sucking on the skin of your shoulder. Then, he looked you in your eyes, angling your head so you could see him.

“If you tap out now, it all stops. We’re done. Tell me you understand.”

“I understand,” your heart banged against your ribs, partly from the strain, partly from the sick excitement of knowing that your determination had turned your captain into a lustful monster. You wanted to see him come undone.

He dragged his free hand down your body, playing with you, teasing you by plucking at your nipples through your shirt, running his fingernails along your ribs, and finally shoving his hands down into your pants, finding your fleshy core covered by a pair of practical underwear. He cupped your vulva through the fabric, rubbing his palm in wide, slow circles, and a moan tried to escape your mouth.

He controlled your breathing, giving you more and less as he saw fit, rubbing in that same steady pattern until you began to tumble into an orgasm. He felt your body tensing, and as you came, he cut off your air entirely. What would have been a perfectly normal orgasm became absolutely blinding, and even though it was only a few moments, when he finally did allow you to take in a full breath, it intensified the feeling, making your vision go completely white, and your pussy clench down around its own walls, aching to be filled. You trembled in his arms, reeling from the aftershock.

“Forgive me, Corporal,” Price let you go, trying to put you mostly back together, his face red with shame and stained with his blood. He set about fixing your shirt and your pants, nervous and suddenly too gentle. He gritted his teeth before confessing, “You make me want to do... things... to you that no gentleman should ever want to do.”

You rolled over to meet him on the sweat-covered mat, running your hands down his bare chest and dipping your fingers into the waist of his shorts, using the other hand to wipe away some of his blood from his mouth before you kissed him, licking the tip of his tongue with your own. You reached a little further and found him throbbing for you, his cock drooling with precome. You broke the kiss and whispered into his open, gasping mouth,

“What things, Captain?”

#captain john price #captain price #john price #captain price x reader #captain price x you #cod mw2 #cod mwii #call of duty fanfic #cod #i wanna wrestle

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mlmxreader · 6 months ago

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Won't Do It Alone | Indiana Jones x gn!reader

『••✎••』

requested by anonymous

↳ ❝ Hi! Can I request “I don’t care if it’s unsafe, I’m going with you” with Indiana Jones please ? Just rewatched all the movies and now I gave brain rot, probably gonna send few other asks! :) ❞

: ̗̀➛ You can't let Indiana go alone on his next trip, but it's harder to convince him to actually allow you to go than anything else.

trigger warnings: ̗̀➛ swearing

•───────────────★•♛•★──────────────•

spotlight fundraiser : ̗̀➛ Help Yasmine until she completes her treatment in Egypt

•───────────────★•♛•★──────────────•

Indiana grabbed his hat, and your stomach sank; he could never leave things alone, and you knew that wherever he was going, he would come back with more scars and callouses on his hands.

You frowned as you watched him pick up his coiled whip from the bedside table, and wished that you could say something to make him stay - but it would never be enough; nothing you could say would ever make him change his mind about going, and you knew that all too well.

It was the price you had to pay for being with him and being around him so often.

He stole a glance at you, smiling and raising his brows a little; wearing just a pair of boxers and one of his shirts, it was all too tempting for him to leave it for a few more hours. But he knew that it had to be done, and he straddled your waist as he cleared his throat and licked his lips.

"I won't be gone long," he said it almost as if it was a promise. "You can always kiss me better when I come back."

You signed as you put your hands on his bare chest. "Indy... don't go, please."

He shook his head, planting a kiss to your forehead. "I won't be long. Count on it."

You put one hand at the side of his neck, the other lacing in his hair. "I'm going with you."

Indiana shook his head again, his soft gaze quickly became a stern and cold glare. "No. It's no place for an ecologist."

"It's no place for an archaeologist with a phobia of snakes, either," you pointed out with a soft growl. "Let me come with you."

He couldn't risk it, he wouldn't risk it. Not you. He would risk anything, but not you. "No. It's unsafe."

"Oh, for fuck's sake!" You hissed. "I don't care if it's unsafe, I'm going with you. Maybe then someone can convince you pythons aren't dangerous!"

He scoffed, looking you up and down rather shamelessly. "You're not quite dressed for it."

"Then get off of my lap," you told him. "And I will get dressed."

Indiana knew that there was no point in trying to keep arguing, he was running out of time to get ready and you weren't going to budge on your stance either; he got off of your lap, and didn't say a single word as he got dressed and packed his things for the trip.

He made sure to pack two of everything, considering that you were going with him and had no idea what you were getting yourself into; he supposed it was his own fault. He hated snakes, you loved them.

That fucking beast in the tank in the corner was evidence enough of that; its scales of brown and black and yellow made him feel sick, and that black flickering tongue with its brown eyes and mean expression made him want to run for a mile and keep going until he was certain he would never see it again.

He scowled when he caught its angular and stern gaze. Almost like it was telling him that if he allowed harm to come to its keeper, it would rip his throat out.

You came up behind him, and he flinched, thinking the beast had gotten him, until he realised and sighed.

"It's gonna be dangerous, and I mean it," he huffed. "Tell me you understand that."

"I do," you hummed, resting your chin on his shoulder. "I know what might be there, but I don't want you to do it alone."

Indiana sighed as he tapped your hands, letting them rest on the waistband of his belt as he swallowed thickly. "You might get hurt. I can't have that."

"Then trust me," you whispered. "Please. I've been your partner for so long... do you really think I'm not able to be trusted?"

He turned around, cupping your face in his hands and forcing you to look into those beautiful brown eyes; his gaze was warm, but stern as he focused your attention. "I do trust you. You know I do."

You out your hands on his, smiling as you licked your lips. "Then let me go with you. Trust me, I can handle it..."

He caved, and quickly stole one kiss.

Then another.

Then he was leading you back to the bed until you laid down and tugged him closer; he smiled, one arm above your head and the other beside your face as he kissed you deeply. You grabbed his hair, tugging it to beg for more; he chuckled under his breath when he heard you whimper after he pulled away. He licked his lips to savour yours, and cleared his throat.

"Not one comment about snakes," he warned. "And you're not bringing any back. You already have that... thing."

"What, Ace?" You laughed softly. "He's harmless!"

"He looks like he wants to eat me," Indiana grumbled. "I hate snakes."

You laughed again, pulling him in for another kiss. "So, when do we leave?"

"Now," he murmured, kissing you again. "Do you even know where we're going?"

"I don't really care," you whispered. "As long as I'm with you and I can keep you safe."

He wanted to sigh and to grumble about not needing it, and about how he knew that he would be trying to protect you the entire time, but the look in your eyes made him forget all about it as he hummed quietly.

"Madagascar."

You grinned, tilting your head to the side and tugging at his hair with excitement. "Madagascar? We might actually get the chance to see some hissing cockroaches up close! You know their behaviour is-"

"You're not bringing any home."

You huffed as you shrugged. "I tried."

Indiana nodded with a knowing smile. "You tried, baby, you tried."

You traced a hand down his chest, doing your best to at least seem convincing. "Are you sure?"

"Very."

"But Indy-"

"No roaches," he deadpanned. "Come on, we gotta hurry up."

#mlem writes #indiana jones x reader #indiana jones x you #indiana jones x y/n #indiana jones x yn #indiana jones imagine #indiana jones fanfiction #indiana jones fanfic #indiana jones fic #indiana jones #x reader #x gn reader #x gn y/n

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sparrowrye · 1 year ago

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Demi Demon || Alastor x Reader, A3 part 1

Synopsis: It’s been over a year since we were brought under Alastor’s watchful eye. We’ve unlocked our Demonic powers, discovered our own talents, and began building the Safe Haven with Charlie and co. Alastor seems increasingly interested in the power we hold as one and intends to use it properly.

Previous part

Part 1: new haven, new me

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

"Who...who are you?" the woman asked into the darkness, voice quivering as if she were cold. I encircled her, my sharp claws tapping the stone pavement and tail dragging behind. I was distorting the noises to make it seem like I was everywhere.

"I go by many names," I said sweetly, "Python. Snake Demon. Dragon Demon. All which fit me perfectly." I let the shadows melt away from me, revealing my Demon form to the scared Human.

I wore my usual outside attire: dark grey dress pants, black and silver clasp belt, black turtle neck, and a dark maroon blazer. It was topped off with the necklace of Alastor's crest. It became the crest of the Hazbin Haven guard command.

"What do you want?" she half demanded. Her face was coated in cuts and bruises and her leg was bent at an awkward angle from attempting to jump roofs.

I knelt down, my face inches from hers, and placed a daring claw under her chin. "Where is Blackwater's factory?"

Her scared demeanor faded, replaced by a look of anger and determination. "You'll need to kill me, then. Blackwater's legacy will live on in all of us."

"What a shame," I said as I stood back up, "I was gracing you with the opportunity to live. No matter, I'll take your soul and examine your memories." I gripped her soul half a second after she yelled. Her cries were no longer heard in the physical world, reaching my ears and mine only. The other souls I was holding onto were frantic for a new soul's energy. She could see their pitch black, wide, screaming faces.

Then I let go. Her soul fell back into her body and she stared up at the night sky, face as pale as a ghost. Her chest heaved with each breath while her hands gripped at the stone to ground herself.

"Last opportunity," I said, standing above her with my hands in my pants pockets. "Where is the factory?"

"I don't know." Her voice shook. "I'm not...I'm not allowed...to know."

"Then who does?"

"The trucks. They drop it off."

"When is the next shipment coming?" I then asked.

"Next month."

"Who's in charge now?"

"I don't know." I grabbed her soul and she freaked. "It is! It is! Since Blackwater died everything is need-to-know!"

I was silent. I continued to stare into her wide eyes, waiting. Leaving someone in silence usually elicited them to talk more.

"I get the shipments and I'm just told to sell them. I swear!" She was telling the truth and my disappointment was overwhelming. I swallowed despite the tightness in my throat. I turned the emotion into anger as I leaned over.

"Tell me something useful if you wish to keep your soul in your body." I stared down, eyes brightening and teeth glinting in fake light. Her eyes widened in response.

"I-I-I don't know. I uh...there's...um..." I gave her a few minutes to think. The fear was clouding her judgement and ability to think so I let her ease up just enough to think. "Shipments don't all arrive at the same time to every location. There's probably some shipments still on their way."

"Where are the other sellers?"

She bit her lip. "I also don't know that, either."

I let out an annoyed sigh and straightened up. I knew who I needed to talk with but I hated interacting with him.

I looked down at the women shaking on the cold ground. She had given me the most she could provide. It didn't seem right to take her soul, but now she was a liability.

I stepped over so my feet were on either side and bent at the hip so I was close to her face. "This conversation didn't happen. If someone even suspects me I will return to harvest your soul. Slowly."

Mouth agape and shivering, she nodded. Alcine covered my whole body and I faded into the dark alley, hiding away in the forest on the outskirts of the busy town. Once I manifested, I teleported back home.

I took the long way around the house to give myself time to shed this version of me. I shrugged my shoulders and shook my arms and tail as if ridding the personality from my very body. I stepped up on the new porch, eyes glancing at the almost finished portion in front of the living room window, and quietly entered the house.

Reagan had made them all dinner and likely left something for me in the fridge. Not feeling very hungry, I used my magic to keep my steps quiet as I went to my room. I changed out of the dark clothes and put on shin-length loose pants and a white short sleeve. I stretched out my sense to see if any of them were still awake. Fortunately, they were not.

I climbed into bed and pulled the heavy covers up to my chin. I kept my dreams away as I slipped into sleep.

The following morning, I was woken to the sound of Nym and Thatcher yelling at each other. Reagan and Lucas must have had an early morning because it was Husker's voice I heard trying to scold them for being loud.

I dressed in my usual 'home' attire, which were simple black dress pants and a light colored top. Today was a thin sweater since we were nearing my favorite season: Fall

My claws tapped on the wood as I walked down the staircase. The rambunctious pair were arguing over the family wristlet. Each member of this family wore a leather wristlet or bracelet that had our crest: a combination of Alastor's crest and my own (the symbol left in the ground when I teleport). Reagan wore a bracelet like I did but the younger pair wanted leather wristlets like Husker. They looked up to the furry uncle. Sometimes too much if someone asked me.

The siblings were sitting at the kitchen counter with Husker on the other side, claws digging into the surface with frustration. Breakfast lay untouched in front of them.

Nym had really short, hazel brown hair and a few freckels on her nose. Her brother, Thatcher, had even shorter hair, typical of boys his age, but his face was coated in the same freckles. His face was usually set in a glare from dealing with his sister while Nym had a wide grin.

"They're the exact same," Husker growled, snatching both items away, mixing them behind his back, then tossing them back into the angry little hands.

"Mine's smaller!" Nym slammed her hands on the counter, half standing on her chair, "he's got buffy wrists."

"Hah! You admit I'm stronger than you!" Thatcher sneered in her face. She shoved his face away, nearly causing him to fall back off his chair.

"Big wrists don't mean you're stronger. Just a bunch of fat."

"Be nice," I spoke softly as I stepped into the kitchen. They went very quiet and settled into their seats.

"I just want my band," Nym looked pointedly to Thatcher.

"And you should have it. However," I took both wristlets from them and held them up to my eye level, "since we cannot decipher the difference, whichever I give will be yours and you need to do something to it that distinguishes it from the other. Understood?"

The two of them nodded silently. It had taken the first full year of parenting them to understand they listened best when spoken to like an adult. Sometimes I could get away with a more adolescent sentence if I put in a few elegant, advanced words for them.

I covered the bracelets in shadows and fizzled them into each of their palms. Nym immediately began to burn her initials into the leather as carefully as she could. The two of them were Slight Humans with a gift of Fire. Their magic was one of the reasons they had been given to me.

"Good morning," Husker sighed, pouring alcohol into his cup.

"Guess you didn't sleep well." We touched foreheads in our usual greeting before I made a plate for myself. Every other day he would come up to eat breakfast with us. It was the only time we had to spend with each other.

"Angel had a bad nightmare last night," was all he gave me.

Nym and Thatcher rattled off about school yesterday since I was gone for the evening. I pretended to listen but my mind was somewhere else. My peripherals could see the calendar hanging off the cabinet behind them. A weight settled in my chest.

Husker was the one to notice the time. He had to be on guard duty and the littles had to be at school. I ushered the two of them out, gently attempting to step on the back of their feet to elicit laughter and urgency. They ran out the door and practically flew down the short hill. I watched them enter the haven and follow the street to the schoolhouse.

"You should come to the dance tomorrow evening," Husker said as he closed the door behind him. Once a month, Charlie hosted a formal dance for the town. It helped people meet each other and gave us a nice event to attend. The first half was for the adults before the later hours were given to the teenagers and their crazy music.

"I don't think so," I said, "I'm hunting for Blackwater still."

"It could do you some good to let loose and dance. I know you love it."

"I do but..." I looked down at my back foot claws. "I still have to do my ritual too."

"It's been seven years now. Maybe you don't need to anymore."

"It's past seven years," I glanced sideways at him, "almost eight by tomorrow. I should be doing my ritual now more than ever."

"You really don't think he's coming back?" Husker asked gently. He had been incredibly understanding and empathetic towards my situation. He was still under Alastor's service and was never treated nearly as kindly as me, but he still offered comfort for my bruised heart.

"You said last time was seven years. It's almost eight. He may not return for another sixty years for all I know. Demons live for centuries."

"I still think you should dance to at least one song. Either before or after your ritual. Think about it." He placed a kind hand on my shoulder before flapping off the porch. I stared after him, watching his figure shrink into a black dot in the sky. I reached inside the front door and opened the drawer of the small decoration table. I withdrew my phone and sent a text message to Vox asking to meet with him.

I sat on the porch chair and closed my eyes. I reached out with my magic and felt the haven. I had read all of Alastor's books in the library and his office since the time of his disappearance. From my readings and sessions with Lucifer, my magic had grown in ways I couldn't imagine.

The souls danced around each other or cluttered together in homes, stores, schoolrooms, and more. I could sense a couple fishermen heading out to sea for the day. The children burned the brightest and a several people found their soulmate here, the thread connecting the pair clearly visible to my eyes. Althea was the only other person in the haven that could see soulmate connections.

My thread came only a few inches off my chest before it faded into nothing.

I stayed in this limbo. I wasn't truly present in my body but not entirely gone into the magic field. It was a comfortable place, a quiet place, that I could lose myself for hours in. There were few things that gave me rest and this was one of them.

The sun had reached its highest point when I finally withdrew back to my physical body. I opened my eyes and saw movement in the corner of my vision. I turned to see Alastor standing with his cane in hand and the other arm tucked neatly behind his back. It wasn't actually him, though. The hurt came back as hard as it had when he first disappeared.

I drew a deep breath in and let it out, annoyed at how shaky it was when I did. I stood from the porch chair and walked up--walked through--him to the unfinished part of the porch. His figure fizzled into nothing, leaving me feeling cold and alone. I picked up a floorboard and started nailing it into place.

I had gotten three floorboards down before the tears made it impossible to see the nails. I dropped the hammer and sat back on my heels, shoulders haunched and claws puncturing the new wood. I peeled one off and covered my wet face as I attempted to get control over my erratic breathing.

Where are you?

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

Author's Note:

Act Three babyyyyyy

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

Taglist:

@wendigonamecaller @saccharine-nectarine @thesimpybitch @papas-ghoulette

#demi demon #alastor the radio demon #alastor x reader #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel #soulmate au #soulmates #reqs open #hazbin husk

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futa69 · 7 months ago

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Even though it has never really been directly mentioned or referenced, elements of the ancient astronaut theory have influenced our popular culture for a hundred years. Practically, everything from books, movies, television shows and video games. Since we will never be able to definitely prove it here on Earth and we're also on the verge of going back to the moon, establishing colonies on Mars, mining the asteroid belt and exploring deep space, we might actually find physical evidence of advanced civilizations that existed for over thousands of years ago out there in the galaxy. Whether we like it or not, all of this is going to happen eventually. So, we should definitely have this conversation right now. The future of the human race may very well depend on this discovery.

▪︎Edison's Conquest of Mars (1898)

▪︎The Call of Cthulhu (1926)

▪︎Analog Science Fiction and Fact (1930)

▪︎At the Mountains of Madness (1931)

▪︎Childhood's End (1953)

▪︎Forbidden Planet (1956)

▪︎Quartermass and the Pit (1958)

▪︎The Twilight Zone (1959)

▪︎The Sirens of Titan (1959)

▪︎The Flintstones (1960)

▪︎Doctor Who (1963)

▪︎Hercules Against the Moon Men (1964)

▪︎Known Space (1964)

▪︎Star Trek (1966)

▪︎2001: A Space Odyssey (1968)

▪︎Chariots of the Gods (1968)

▪︎The Bible & Flying Saucers (1968)

▪︎Passport to Magonia (1969)

▪︎Horror Express (1972)

▪︎Rendezvous with Rama (1973)

▪︎Land of the Lost (1974)

▪︎The Spaceships of Ezekiel (1974)

▪︎The Outer Space Connection (1975)

▪︎Space: 1999 (1975)

▪︎The Sirius Mystery (1976)

▪︎The Earth Chronicles (1976)

▪︎Star Wars (1977)

▪︎Mysteries of the Gods (1977)

▪︎Close Encounters of the Third Kind (1977)

▪︎The Manna Machine (1978)

▪︎Invasion of the Body Snatchers (1978)

▪︎Battlestar Galactica (1978)

▪︎Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy (1978)

▪︎Monty Python's Life of Brian (1979)

▪︎Alien (1979)

▪︎Hangar 18 (1980)

▪︎Valis (1981)

▪︎The Thing (1982)

▪︎Xevious (1982)

▪︎Super Dimension Fortress Macross (1982)

▪︎The Transformers (1984)

▪︎Cocoon (1985)

▪︎Bio Booster Armor Guyver (1985)

▪︎The Legend of Zelda (1986)

▪︎Predator (1987)

▪︎Killer Klowns from Outer Space (1988)

▪︎Red Dwarf (1988)

▪︎The Gods of Eden (1989)

▪︎Moontrap (1989)

▪︎Spriggan (1989)

▪︎Total Recall (1990)

▪︎Babylon 5 (1993)

▪︎The X-Files (1993)

▪︎Stargate (1994)

▪︎Neon Genesis Evangelion (1994)

▪︎Fingerprints of the Gods (1995)

▪︎Encounter with Tiber (1996)

▪︎Final Fantasy (1997)

▪︎Earth: Final Conflict (1997)

▪︎The Fifth Element (1997)

▪︎Space Island One (1998)

▪︎Naked Pictures of Famous People (1998)

▪︎The Giza Power Plant (1998)

▪︎Heritage Trilogy (1998)

▪︎Dilbert (1999)

▪︎Futurama (1999)

▪︎Star Ancestors (2000)

▪︎Mission to Mars (2000)

▪︎Halo (2001)

▪︎Ice Age (2002)

▪︎Alien vs. Predator (2004)

▪︎The Cygnus Mystery (2006)

▪︎The Orion Zone (2007)

▪︎Mass Effect (2007)

▪︎Assassin's Creed (2007)

▪︎Outlander (2008)

▪︎Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull (2008)

▪︎Marvel Cinematic Universe (2008)

▪︎Spore (2008)

▪︎Knowing (2009)

▪︎The Fourth Kind (2009)

▪︎Ancient Aliens (2009)

▪︎Borderlands (2009)

▪︎The Great Airship of 1897 (2010)

▪︎Dark Void (2010)

▪︎The Ancient Alien Question (2011)

▪︎Life And Death On Mars (2011)

▪︎Cowboys and Aliens (2011)

▪︎Battle: Los Angeles (2011)

▪︎Paul (2011)

▪︎John Carter (2012)

▪︎Prometheus (2012)

▪︎Iron Sky (2012)

▪︎Man of Steel (2013)

▪︎Jupiter Ascending (2015)

▪︎The Great Wall (2016)

▪︎Life (2017)

▪︎Beyond the Sky (2018)

▪︎Resident Alien (2021)

▪︎Moonfall (2022)

▪︎Prey (2022)

▪︎65 (2023)

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nylpad · 1 year ago

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CAFFEINE, CODE, AND COUCH CONFESSIONS

Warnings: coffee addiction

Tim Drake, the resident tech genius of Wayne Manor, had a mission: to teach you the intricacies of coding. Armed with a whiteboard, a stack of textbooks, and a steely determination, he embarked on this noble quest. Little did he know that unraveling the mysteries of Python and JavaScript would be the least challenging part.

Tim sat you down in the cozy corner of the Batcave, the glow of the Batcomputer casting shadows on his face. He explained loops, variables, and functions with the fervor of a preacher. But your brain? It was like a stubborn old laptop running Windows 95—slow, glitchy, and prone to crashing.

"Okay, so if you have a nested loop," Tim said, pointing at the whiteboard, "you'll need to—"

You interrupted. Again. "Wait, wait. What's a nested loop? Is it like a Russian doll situation?"

Tim sighed, rubbing his temples. "No, it's not—"

"But what if the Russian doll is an array?" you asked, eyes wide.

Tim's patience wavered. "It's not—"

"But what if the array contains Batman's utility belt gadgets?" you persisted.

He pinched the bridge of his nose. "That's not—"

Coding fatigue set in. Tim's eyes glazed over as you continued your relentless questioning. He needed a distraction—a break from the syntax and semicolons. So, he proposed a truce: "How about we take a snack break?"

You perked up. "Snacks? Now you're speaking my language."

Soon, the Batcave echoed with the rustling of chip bags and the clinking of coffee mugs. Tim brewed a fresh pot of coffee—the fifth one that day—and you raised an eyebrow.

"Tim, you're going to turn into a jittery metahuman," you warned.

He grinned, sipping from his mug. "Nah, I've built up a tolerance."

The couch beckoned, its cushions inviting. Tim abandoned the whiteboard, and you both sank into its plush embrace. Laptops forgotten, you fired up the gaming console. The Batcave's massive screen displayed the latest multiplayer shooter.

"Ready to kick some virtual butt?" you asked, controller in hand.

Tim hesitated. "Actually, can we watch movies instead?"

You raised an eyebrow. "Movies? Since when do you—"

"—binge-watch romantic comedies?" Tim finished, cheeks flushing. "I may or may not have a soft spot for cheesy love stories."

And so, you traded code for rom-coms, coffee for popcorn. Tim's head found its way to your lap, and you stroked his hair absentmindedly.

"Promise me," you said, "no more coffee. Your heart rate is rivaling the Bat-Signal."

He grumbled but complied. "Fine. But only because you're the best code-cracking partner."

As the credits rolled on the screen, Tim whispered, "Maybe I'll write an algorithm to predict our next movie choice."

You chuckled. "Or we could just flip a coin."

And there, in the dim glow of the Batcave, you realized that maybe—just maybe—love was the most complex code of all.

#yn #spotify #x reader #viralpost #batfam #x yn #tim drake #timothy drake #red robin #batboy #tim drake x reader #tim drake x y/n

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