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artficlly · 4 months ago

Text

read between the lines [one-shot]

college marvel au frat!jock!bucky x cheerleader!reader tutoring bucky barnes was already distracting enough, but leaving your diary in his room? that is a whole new problem.

Warnings: fluff, so much fluff, tutoring, first kiss, college au, vague panic from reader, idk it's just kinda fun and cute :), no use of y/n, lmk if i've missed anything

Word Count: 2.5k

A/N: hi this was for a request! so so cute, i wrote this so fast i didn't even think i would have it ready to post so quickly. idk anything about cheerleading or how college works in america, so forgive me. inspired by that willow song! sorry for any typos - not proof read.

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I’ve been tutoring Bucky.

Well, James, technically. But he goes by Bucky. Says it’s a childhood nickname and it just stuck, and honestly? That’s kind of adorable. Like, who clings to a nickname that hard? Even the professors call him that, which should be cringe, but somehow it’s not? It just suits him. I literally don’t think I could call him James even if I tried. ‘Bucky’ feels right. It sounds warm. Familiar. Stupidly charming.

Ugh. Anyway.

He’s in one of those frats I usually stay far away from. The kind that smells like cheap beer and Axe body spray. Always yelling, always playing music way too loud, always shirtless for no reason. I swore I’d never waste my time on a guy like that. I really thought he was gonna be a cocky, arrogant douche when I first got assigned to tutor him.

But he’s not. Like… at all?

He’s actually really nice. Like, unfairly nice. That casual kind of nice that makes you forget you’re supposed to be annoyed. He remembers stuff I say. Not the big stuff, the tiny stuff. Like how I chew my pen when I’m stressed, or how I like lemon Gatorade for cheerleading practice. And yesterday he brought me those sour gummy worms I mentioned ONE time. Just handed them over all casual like, ‘Thought you might want a little sugar after practice.’ Who does that?? Like… stop. That’s not fair.

But of course, he’s like that with everyone. That’s the worst part. He’s charming in this totally effortless way. Looks at you like you’re the most interesting person alive and then turns around and does the exact same thing to someone else. How am I supposed to know what’s real?

And GOD. He’s hot. Like, it’s actually rude. He laughs and it does something to me. Like full-on makes my brain stop working. And his ARMS?? Every time he pushes his sleeves up to his elbows I lose one year off my life. For real. It’s like he’s doing it on purpose. (I mean, he’s not, but like… what if he is???) Sometimes I forget what I’m even explaining because he’s just sitting there smiling at me with those eyes and that stupid little smirk and suddenly I’m thinking about kissing him instead of confidence intervals. It’s not okay.

He’s on the football team. Scholarship guy. Big deal. Girls are obsessed with him. I’ve literally heard people talk about him in the locker room like he’s a celebrity. And me? I’m just… I don’t know. I’m me. I cheer and I study and I try not to let my GPA fall apart and I pretend I’m not crushing on someone completely out of my league.

So no. I’m not gonna say anything.

Because maybe I did catch him looking at me the other day when I tied my hair up. Maybe he does stay a little longer when we’re done. Maybe he leans in a little closer than necessary. But maybe I’m imagining it. Maybe I want it too bad and I’m just reading into everything. I don’t want to be that girl. I don’t want to get hurt.

So I’m gonna do what I’m supposed to do. Help him pass stats. Smile when he brings me candy. Laugh at his dumb jokes. Pretend like my heart doesn’t skip a beat every time he says my name.

I’m just going to help him pass stats. That’s all this is. Right? God, I’m so dumb.

—

You were fucked. Well and truly screwed.

You couldn’t even focus during practice. Missed counts, off-beat claps, a completely botched dismount that nearly took you and the poor girl spotting you both out in one go. Natasha pulled you aside with that look—the one that said she was two seconds away from losing it—and muttered something about getting your shit together because the big game was in a week and this wasn’t the time to be spacing out.

But how were you supposed to focus? Your diary was missing.

Your actual, physical, spiral-bound diary filled with every unfiltered thought you’d been too scared to say out loud. The same one where you’d spent the last four pages gushing about Bucky freaking Barnes like some sad, delusional teenage cliché. You didn’t even want to think about what you wrote last night, something about his arms and the way he smiles and how you swore he looked at you differently when you tied your hair up. It was humiliating.

You never should’ve taken it out of your room. You knew it was a bad idea. But Yelena had been on one of her ‘I’m bored and nosy’ benders, and the last time you left anything out, she’d read your old poetry journal and quoted it back to you at breakfast. You weren’t about to risk that again. So, like a total idiot, you shoved your diary in your bag before heading to class, thinking you’d keep it safe with you.

The entire day had been chaos. You barely managed to scarf down lunch between lectures, and by the time your 3 p.m. class let out, you were already sprinting across campus to make it to Bucky’s place for tutoring. Not that you actually got much tutoring done. You never did, not when he looked at you with that stupid, easy grin, or leaned back in his chair like he owned the air around him. One second you were going over statistical formulas, and the next you were talking about childhood pets and favourite movies, laughing like you hadn’t just been drowning in assignments ten minutes earlier. Time always slipped away around him. You ended up bolting to cheer practice.

It wasn’t until hours later, back in your dorm with your bag dumped upside down on the floor, that you realised your diary was missing. Your diary.

You’d spent a solid hour panicking, then a full thirty minutes rummaging through the lost and found at the campus security office, practically elbow-deep in a box of mismatched gloves and cracked phone cases. The guy behind the desk eventually looked up from his screen, where he was rather obviously playing solitaire, and told you with the energy of someone who very much did not care that maybe it hadn’t been handed in.

You wanted to scream.

Now your most personal, most mortifying thoughts were just out there. Floating around. God only knew where or with who. And sure, maybe whoever found it wouldn’t read it. Maybe they’d be a decent human being and just turn it in without flipping through. But let’s be honest, if you found a diary with someone’s deepest secrets in it, you’d probably peek too.

You were going to be sick. Actually sick. And not because Natasha had you running suicides again like she was training you for the NFL, but because your life might genuinely be over. Because if he found it? What if you left it in his room? What if Bucky read even one word of what you wrote?

You didn’t even want to finish that thought.

No, you literally couldn’t even finish that thought because, as Natasha finally called for the end of the session and the team began their warm-down stretches, swapping tired smiles and gulping down water, you saw him.

Bucky.

Standing at the edge of the field in that stupid grey hoodie, sleeves pushed up, all smug and handsome like he hadn’t just shown up to ruin your entire existence. He had that lazy, charming smile on his face, the one that made people trust him too fast, the one that made you trust him too fast, and in his hand?

Glittery blue cover. Spiral binding. Your diary.

You were going to throw up. No, genuinely, you could feel your stomach lurch. This was it. This was how you died. Not in a blaze of glory or during a botched basket toss, but here, sweaty, humiliated, and on the verge of a nervous breakdown in the middle of the goddamn football field.

You didn’t even think. You just stormed over before anyone else could notice, grabbing his arm and dragging him behind the bleachers like it was a crime scene. Which it kind of was. A crime against your dignity.

Bucky didn’t protest. He followed easily, letting you pull him along like it was some sort of game. Of course he did. And of course, he was smiling the whole time, like you hadn’t just gone into cardiac arrest ten feet away.

Your heart was pounding so hard you could barely speak. It rattled in your chest like a warning, like it knew this moment was about to go down in your personal hall of shame.

“Where…how…why do you have that?” you hissed, snatching at the diary, but he held it just out of reach, still annoyingly calm.

He raised a brow, like you’d just asked him what two plus two was. “You left it at my place. After tutoring. You were in a rush, remember?”

No. No, no, no, no, no. Of course, it had been his place. Of course.

“I—I didn’t mean to, I wasn’t thinking, I just—” You were spiralling, words tumbling out too fast, too breathless, and your fingers were twitching like you might just snatch the book and sprint across campus. “Did you…Did you read it?”

A beat. He didn’t answer right away. Just looked at you.

And then, God, he smiled. Not the cocky one, not the football-star grin. This one was softer. Slower. Dangerous.

Your stomach dropped.

“I read enough,” he said.

You froze.

Your ears rang. Your mouth went dry. Your body just stopped.

“Enough?” you echoed, voice cracking halfway through. “Enough of what? Enough to—oh my God.”

You turned away instinctively, hand over your mouth like that could somehow keep your soul from escaping your body. Because what did that mean? What was ‘enough?’ Enough to ruin your life? Enough to laugh about it with his frat brothers? Enough to tell every girl on campus that the cheerleader who couldn’t even stick a full-out had a crush on him?

You didn’t even realise you were pacing until Bucky gently caught your wrist.

“Hey. Relax,” he said, and his voice was way too steady for someone holding the social equivalent of a loaded weapon.

You yanked your arm back like his touch burned. “Relax? Bucky, that was private. It’s literally a diary! It’s not for reading, it's for… spiralling in silence!”

He tilted his head a little, watching you carefully, and if he was offended by your panic, he didn’t show it. “You left it on my bed. Open.”

You groaned and covered your face with both hands. “Please. Just kill me. Right here. Hide the body under the bleachers. I’m serious.”

Bucky chuckled—chuckled, like this was some kind of joke—and stepped closer. You could feel his presence even before you lowered your hands again.

“Why didn’t you just say something?” he asked, quiet now. “If you felt that way.”

Your eyes snapped to his. “Because I didn’t know if it meant anything! You’re nice to everyone. You flirt like it’s a reflex. You remember everyone’s drink orders, compliment their outfits, hold doors and say all the right things. I thought I was just another person you were… nice to.”

He didn’t answer your panicked rambling right away. Just looked at you for a long moment.

“Yeah, I’m nice to people. Doesn’t mean I feel the same way I feel about you.”

Your heart dropped straight into your stomach.

“What?” you whispered, hating how small your voice sounded.

He held your gaze, completely serious now.

“Like I wanna kiss you every time you chew that damn pen cap. Like, I think about you even when I’m supposed to be studying. Like I can’t focus when you’re talking ‘cause all I do is stare at your damn lips.” He paused, and something almost like a laugh broke out of him, soft and self-conscious. “Like I’ve been trying to find a not-creepy way to tell you I like you since the second tutoring started, but you were always so focused and cool and out of my league.”

That last part made your head spin.

“Out of your league?” you repeated, eyes wide.

He smirked, stepping just a bit closer, lowering his voice. “Have you seen yourself? You’re smart, you’re so pretty it’s ridiculous, and you’ve got this whole thing where you act like you don’t know you’re the coolest girl on campus. Of course, I was nervous.”

You blinked at him. “Bucky… are you flirting with me behind the bleachers while holding my diary hostage?”

He grinned. “Maybe. Depends. Is it working?”

You tried to snatch the diary out of his hand, but he was faster, effortlessly holding it just out of reach like it weighed nothing.

“God, I hate you,” you muttered through gritted teeth, bouncing up on your toes in a desperate attempt to grab it. All it earned you was the embarrassing realisation that you were now fully pressed against his chest, warm, broad, and stupidly solid.

“You really don’t, at least not according to this—” he said, low and smug.

“Bucky!” you warned, trying to reach again, but he shifted it higher.

“Give. It. Back,” you hissed, practically climbing him at this point.

“I will,” he said, eyes flicking down to your mouth in a way that made your stomach twist and your breath catch. “But only if you let me kiss you first.”

Your brain short-circuited. Completely and entirely. The words took a second to process. His voice had dropped, softer now, more serious, like he wasn’t just messing with you anymore.

You looked up at him, heart thudding so loudly against your ribs you swore he could hear it. His eyes searched yours, and for once, he didn’t look like the effortlessly confident guy everyone knew. He looked… nervous like he was the one waiting to be rejected.

“…Fine,” you whispered, the word barely making it past your lips, but your smile gave you away. It was impossible to hide, giddy and crooked and ridiculous.

And then he kissed you.

He bent his head and closed the gap like he’d been waiting weeks for it—maybe he had. His mouth was warm and sure against yours, one arm still holding the diary hostage, the other dropping to your waist, pulling you in like he couldn’t help himself. You kissed him back without thinking, without doubting, like maybe this was the answer you’d been afraid to ask for all along.

When you finally broke apart, breathless and blinking at each other like idiots, he handed over the diary with a grin.

“Okay,” you whispered, still a little breathless. “That was… good.”

“Just good?” He smirked.

You rolled your eyes, cheeks burning. “Don’t push it.”

He laughed softly, thumb still brushing your cheek. “So… does this mean I get to keep seeing you after stats is over? Or do I have to fail on purpose to keep you around?”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“You’re right. You’d probably kill me.”

“More like definitely.”

There was a beat of silence, the kind that didn’t feel awkward. He looked at you like he already knew what you were thinking. And for once, you didn’t feel like running from it.

You were so, so screwed.

But maybe… in the best way possible.

#bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky fluff #bucky barnes fluff #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #james buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #winter soldier #marvel fic #marvel au #marvel

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keferon · 3 months ago

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I just want this fic to be here too👍 Part 1? Eh

_____________

“He's stalking his celebrity crush.”

“That's not stalking!” resents Swerve ”I'm just worried.”

Rewind makes a gesture that looks vaguely apologetic and looks at Tailgate again.

“Watching. He's watching his superhero celebrity crush who's a member of the Wreckers. And so far no one's survived long in the Wreckers, so he's shaking on every notification like a crazy mom.”

Tailgate tries to peer sideways into Swerve's phone

“That sounds stressful. Is that him? Is he dying?”

_____________

Blurr/Swerve, Superhero au, fic under the cut⤵️ Heavily inspired/based on this post

Blurr doesn't think life and death is something he can control.

He's about 99.99999% sure.

The remaining microscopic fraction of that idiotic statistic is held in place by one small but important factor that Blurr can't explain and isn't sure he even wants to explain. It's like the dream logic. The moment you realize exactly how things work is also the moment you wake up to realize it.

The very nuance understanding which destroys all magic or reveals the fact that magic never existed.

That nuance?

Blurr can't die.

And it's certainly not because he's not trying hard enough.

That last one sounds a little radical. But he has a history. His team has a history.

“Wreckers is a pretty peculiar collection of superheroes. It's easy to get into and even easier to get out of (usually feet first and in a bag). No other hero organization loses so many people so often. No other hero organization can also handle the level of threats that the Wreckers eliminate.

Their fans affectionately refer to them as the Suicide Squad. There is...a lot of black humor among the Wreckers fanbase and Blurr doesn't condemn it. Not after having to memorize new names and faces of teammates every six months.

The thing is.

He probably should have been dead a long time ago. A lot. A lot of “that was close” ago.

Just two days after joining the Wreckers, he found himself in the middle of an absolutely monstrous fire and miraculously escaped death by getting away just moments before the entire building collapsed on his head.

Only a week after that, he gets shot. Fifteen times.

And. Look.

Blurr is fast! Being fast is kind of his main thing as a speedster. He did the only logical thing and made an honest effort to dodge, but three of those fifteen bullets still ended up inside him and only miraculously didn't hit anything that couldn't be repaired.

Half a year later, a car falls on him.

Another month - some freaking supervillain decides to infect an entire country with a homemade super lethal virus and guess who becomes the only victim.

At least once a month, various psychopaths try to break his legs.

At least once every half a year he ends up being the one who “heroically saved all the hostages but didn't have time to save himself”.

It's like an endless stream of negative karma.

It's really amazing how such a small piece of civilization like Iacon can contain so many disasters. Even more amazing perhaps is how people manage to survive through all this neat smoothie of misery and violence.

Earthquakes, villains, villains, more villains, terrorists, natural disasters, monsters from outer space, and it all comes out of nowhere and it all takes a hundred percent effort to pack Blurr in a coffin.

Blurr... doesn't know why he's still alive.

He honestly has no idea how he's doing it. He may get into life-and-death situations more often than he does haircuts but every time things come within an inch of killing him. It's impossible luck. Statistically improbable chance. One-in-a-thousand odds. A fucking lightning caught in a bottle, but it happens so often it's like someone somewhere in heaven decided to open a bottled lightning factory and then reward Blurr with the title of their honorary loyal customer.

Blurr doesn't think he has power over life and death.

But here's the thing.

On some particularly violent nights, he wonders that maybe...

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

Sometimes Swerve thinks being a dedicated fan should be on the list of “unhealthy” high-paying jobs. One of those where they give you extra cash for the fact that you even bother to show up and then give you insurance and paid vacations.

Okay, that last one might be a bit of an overkill, but it would be nice if he at least had an endless supply of sedatives.

At least some chamomile. Preferably not from the sidewalk. He's not picky.

See, their world decided to change the rules of existence not too long ago and turned such a trivial thing as “trust” into a new in-game currency.

Simply put. If enough people believe something, it becomes true.

What has society chosen to do with that? Of course create an absolutely insane cult of celebrity worship, essentially giving a bunch of already rich and beautiful people superpowers as well.

As if they weren't already living luxuriously enough!

Swerve is not jealous. Certainly not. His first thought when he found out about the new “rules” was definitely not to tell everyone he knows that he won a million dollars and wait for the power of belief to make it true.

He surely wasn't trying to do that. Anyone who claims otherwise is either a liar or their name starts with a T and ends with Gate.

Speaking of.....

Tailgate scratches the back of his head puzzled.

“So you didn't actually win a million dollars?”

They are sitting in a small cafe, the name of which Swerve has honestly forgotten. Or rather he never memorized it, because the local owner of the place prefers to hang huge posters with superheroes right above the name. Swerve is a rather controllable customer.....

Rewind, sitting at the same cheap plastic table as them, hums.

“And here I was trying to figure out if your holey slippers were a cry for help or one of those crazy expensive 'fancy' designs.”

“Ha. ha.” says Swerve slowly and deliberately unhappily “If I get rich one day, I won't tell any of you.”

He slowly takes a sip of some obscure looking substance that Rewind ordered for them all as an experiment and turns to Tailgate.

“Look, it's a pretty fun system. Things that people believe in strongly enough - become real. So if uh, if uh, if we as a whole country believe that our government is honest - that will, in theory, make it honest. Or if a hundred thousand people genuinely believe you can fly, you will be able to fly. That's how it works now.”

Tailgate stares at him. With very large, puzzled eyes.

Swerve tries not to laugh too hard. Poor Tailgate had once gone off to explore the caves and somehow, by some incredible means, managed to get lost and stuck in them for two whole months. Then he crawled out and discovered that magic had appeared in the world while he was gone. Swerve thinks that if he were Tailgate, he'd look very stupid too, trying to realize the absurdity of the situation.

Tailgate is toying with his curled straw.

“So is the government honest now?”

Rewind makes a loud “snrk” noise into his cup.

Swerve chuckles. Not as “funny” haha but more like “we fucked it all up” haha.

It shouldn't be possible to fit all the sense of doom from the world's level of damnation into one expression, but he confidently goes for it.

“GOD NO, did you ever believe that government could be honest?”

“Well...now that's just sad...” decides Tailgate ‘Something good was supposed to come out of this, right?”

Rewind raises a finger victoriously.

“Oh! There are no more incurable diseases! The placebo effect is the new big thing now that a bunch of people have gotten the ability to cure any illness at the snap of their fingers.”

Swerve nods, dangling his drink in his hands.

“There was a guy who claimed he had magic hands that cured everything and gathered a crowd of fanatical admirers around him. So...now his hands are really magic because his followers believe it. Crazy stuff...”

Tailgate puts his elbows on the table, propping his head up with his hands.

“So if I tell everyone I won a million dollars.....”

“I recommend--�� Rewind waves his cup “...first make sure you're not wearing holey slippers.”

“Аh”

“That, and you'll need at least about a million people loving and supporting you wholeheartedly if you want this to work.”

“That's...a lot of people,” Tailgate groans.

Swerve shrugs

“That's why all the really cool stuff only goes to celebrities.”

_____

Tailgate cranes his neck curiously.

“Hey Swerve, while you went to place your order your phone started buzzing.”

Swerve falls back into his seat as fast as if he'd just decided the entire floor was lava and starts scrolling through notifications, cursing at spam and useless newsletters.

“When??”

“Just a couple minutes ago” shrugs Tailgate ”Are you expecting someone?”

“I'M...OH NO NO I'M JUST. Shit, wait a minute.”

Rewind leans over to Tailgate and smiles deviously, not even trying to pretend to whisper.

“He's stalking his celebrity crush.”

“That's not stalking!” resents Swerve ”I'm just worried.”

Rewind makes a gesture that looks vaguely apologetic and looks at Tailgate again.

“' Watching. He's watching his superhero celebrity crush who's a member of the Wreckers. And so far no one's survived long in the Wreckers, so he's shaking on every notification like a crazy mom.”

Tailgate tries to peer sideways into Swerve's phone

“That sounds stressful. Is that him? Is he dying?”

Swerve slides down the back of his chair slightly and tilts the phone toward Tailgate

“No, it's not him. He's the one in the blue suit on the left. And no, he's not dying. That bastard is impossible to kill.”

Tailgate lets out an understanding “ooh.”

“Although,” Swerve admits, “ Following him was a lot easier when he was driving cars instead of saving the world.”

He's been a Blurr fan for so long that it can probably be put on his resume already. He remembers watching the Iacon 5000 race with friends with Rewind starting to joke about how they should all bet on someone brand new this year. To fuel the fun, they sat down to pick candidates to bet on based solely on the color of their cars.

Swerve then poked his finger at a random bright blue car and said he'd bet on it because “blue is a fast color.”

Later, his friends would joke more than once that Swerve had the gift of prophecy that day. Because blue wasn't just fast. Oh, God. No. Blue turned out to be the absolute leader, dominating the race track from start to finish.

Swerve remembers vividly the first time he looked at a racer getting out of that car and thought “who the hell is that” and then immediately “how do I find his socials”.

The answer to the second question came quickly. The answer to the first...well. The guy, Blurr, soon turned out to be a faceless celebrity. Shining at numerous races, but never showing his face. Swerve highly doubts it's due to shyness, given...some character traits. (Swerve has a running theory, which is that ...Blurr has no shame. Even as a concept.) Probably just to keep his life anonymous and quiet, he believes.

It's understandable.

He's not judging. But he has to admit that a billion fanarts on what a face under a racing helmet could look like in theory...really...fuels his fantasy.

He's a very normal and sane fan. He tries very hard to be a normal fan and he's doing a great job at it. Maybe except for those moments when Blurr gets into another car accident. Lots of them. Lots and lots of bloody accidents actually and Swerve at first catches a micro heart attack every time he sees the news, but eventually he gets used to it. Blurr is incredibly resilient. And just as rich as well.

Swerve is used to hearing updates about another incident and then seeing Blurr back in the race a couple months later. Just as energetic, carefree, and frankly . Really handsome. As if nothing had happened. As if any danger would just bounce off him without leaving a dent.

It was familiar. It was habitual.

Until, of course, the universe started handing out faith magic to people. Until Blurr walked up to this imaginary box of lottery numbers and pulled out a ball that said “congratulations you're lucky now go and fucking die.”

Blurr is a racer. A damn good racer. Incredibly popular too. Of course his many fans who adore him beyond measure gave him a superpower.

Of course that power was speed.

Of course.

Blue is the color of speed. What else.

As a racer, Blurr is undefeatable.

As a superhero, ..

Swerve still thinks this guy is impossible to kill, but that doesn't mean he doesn't get worried every time he sees the news headlines and live feeds.

“You're alive” Springer states ”Literally how are you still alive?”

Blurr tilts his head because it's the only part of his body he can still move while trapped under ten tons of mangled steel from a Decepticon flying base falling out of the sky.

“Hello to you, too.”

Springer tentatively pulls the nearest sheet of metal and hums in satisfaction when he feels the structure is stable enough.

“Bleeding? Fractures?”

“I think my hair's ruined.”

“No one can even see your hair.”

“Doesn't mean I shouldn't care about it,” snorts Blurr

Springer tosses aside another piece of metal and reaches for his earpiece

“Smoke...? Nah...no really.....REALLY. ....No, you're not going to believe this. ......Aha, digging him out.” he looks away from the earpiece and leans over Blurr ‘Smokescreen wanted me to tell you that he's impressed and,... I quote ’personally saw that damn wagon fall right on your head'. He also wants to know if he needs to shoo away the paparazzi.”

Blurr tries to shrug but remembers in time that it's best not to fidget too much.

“Tell him I'll need a new suit. Let him keep everyone, I'm fine.”

“Literally...like...” barely audibly mutters Springer. “Like.h ow..”

Blurr smiles “My guardian angel is working overtime.”

Swerve takes a deep, nervous exhale, unhooking his fingers from the phone on which he's watching the live feed. Ah shit. Okay. Okay. Alive. Fine.

Rewind looks over his shoulder.

“Looking out for your pookie?”

“HE'S NOT MY

__________

Smokescreen stops right in the middle of an inspired argument with the advertisement agent when his side vision registers a flash of blue to the right of the entirely destroyed street.

“Blurr??”

“Oh, hey!” waves Blurr, “'Sup Smoke?”

The crumbled asphalt beneath his feet crunches softly. Just a few minutes ago, this street was a complete mayhem....

Smokescreen waves the clipboard in his direction

“I thought you had your head ripped off, you suicidal son of a bitch! Do you know how hard it was to calm your hysterical fans down??”

Blurr knows no one can see his face but rolls his eyes anyway. Almost immediately his brain tells him that this was a bad idea, sending a whole bunch of black spots in front of his eyes.

“Hey, you're getting paid for th...ugh...this.”

Blurr doesn't elaborate on the fact that he was sure he was going to be left headless today as well. One of the Overlord's freaking monster minions grabbed him and for a split second Blurr could swear he heard his own neck crunch.

He tries not to think about it.

The more he thinks about it, the less sense it will make.

The more he analyzes, the louder becomes the voice in the far corner of his head saying he should have been dead a long time ago.

A week ago when an entire air base fell on him. Three weeks ago during the battle with Menasor that practically broke his spine. Even earlier, when he was so busy evacuating hospital staff that he ended up being the only one present when that hospital exploded.

He's afraid that if he starts looking into the causes, this magical effect..this life-saving placebo will disappear.

He's convinced it's a placebo. It's the way this world works.

Someone out there must be doing some complex mental magic, keeping him more or less alive and whole and...Blurr is probably going a little crazy. Probably.

Maybe one of those many blows got him harder than he thought. Maybe it's his own self-confidence manifesting miracles of salvation one after another.

(It actually...doesn't sound that unbelievable. Blurr has a lot of belief in himself. Many people would say even too much. The question is whether it counts.)

(He prefers to think it counts.)

__________

Swerve sees red. Lots of it. LOTS of red.

More than he ever wanted to see in his life.

Uh-oh. That's not good.

His vision is blurring. His head buzzes with a nasty sharp static and his left shoulder hurts like a BITCH.

Above him is the flickering, faltering light of the bulb and below him is a growing puddle of his blood. His hair is wet and sticking to his face, making it hard to focus his already shaky gaze.

He makes an attempt to shift, but all it brings him is an explosion of pain.

Ugh.

Sirens are blaring outside, warning the public to evacuate. He's not really sure he can make out exactly what the sound is announcing. He has memorized all kinds of emergency alerts, but the thought escapes him.

What was it

Oh, yeah.

He's been shot.

He's been shot and he's probably going to die because everyone he knows is either too far away or busy evacuating. He vaguely hopes they'll remember about him.

Maybe only after getting to a safe place, but he'll take even that.

The red around him is getting bigger.

He tries to reach for his phone to...where is his phone? Did he leave it in the kitchen? He probably did. Swerve seemed to have no time to grab it when the entire building shook and ugly semi-mechanical monsters fell from the sky.

One of these monsters noticed Swerve just moments later and activated something resembling a cannon mounted in his hands. Swerve then looked at the glowing muzzle and thought that firing this thing would probably send his atoms so far away that his dna would be found on the moon. He could stick his hand down that gun barrel. And his hands are far from the smallest and most delicate hands you can find.

Why did this have to happen on a Saturday? Why not a day later or earlier? If it were any other day, Swerve would be at work right now. In a different place, with other people and probably with a much better chance of not being killed like a loser.

Not sure he wouldn't have been shot, but at least someone would have seen this and picked him up off the floor, put him in their pocket and taken him to the rescue.

Ugh.

He realizes that he closed his eyes at some point and hurriedly opens them. His expertise is by no means professional, but he is almost certain that that weapon wasn't ordinary. He has no idea what it means for him. Maybe he needs stitches, painkillers and a kiss and he'll be good as new. Or maybe it's like one of those films where you get hurt by an unknown creature and then you grab the sink in front of the mirror at midnight and watch the veins under your skin move on their own.

He doesn't feel shot, as silly as that sounds. He feels numb. Falling. Farther and farther away.

He is falling and falling as deep as he's ever fallen in his life. Maybe not as far as "got lost in the woods" far. No, more like " a coin dropped behind the fridge" far. It's not really about the distance but more about the feeling that he's never going to get out of here because no one ever looks in here.

He’s falling until the state of falling starts to register as a resting point, because that's the only variable he still feels. This corner he falls into is very deep and dark and dusty.

He doesn't remember to open his eyes again.

___________

Smokescreen sounds frankly hysterical, yelling at Blurr through his earpiece.

“I understand you like to show off, but you can't outrun a freaking tsunami?!?!”

Blurr only speeds up, “Watch."

“You cocky IDIOT this is suicide!”

“Relax Smoke” laughs Blurr ”You say that every time.”

The half-destroyed bridge shakes and sways like a wounded animal as the water from the overrunning sea crashes into it, gouging into the concrete and bending the metal.

The whole scene is...depressing. Water and debris everywhere and damn. This isn't the first time Blurr is witnessing a large-scale attack by the "forces of evil" as the hero agency likes to call them, but looking at the wrecked cars and scattered debris doesn't get any easier with time. Maybe it just hasn't been long enough. Who knows.

Springer doesn't look like he is bothered by it. But Springer also has a lot more experience being a superhero. With his skill at giving out smiles and encouragement in absolutely any situation, not many can compete.

Blurr certainly can't. In fact. He's got a face with subtitles that turn on in almost any stressful situation. Wearing a mask is probably one of the best things he can do to calm down any random civilians waiting for him to save the day. If they can't see him making panicked grimacing eyes, they'll be feeling much better.

A few more seconds and he's on the collapsing bridge. The people stuck on it look hysterical and bruised, but no one seems injured, so it shouldn't be difficult.

Blurr's plan is simple. Get all the people out of the disaster's path. Then get yourself out. Easy.

Easy?

He can pinpoint the exact moment when something goes wrong.

It's the second that a crooked, hideous-looking monster grabs his leg and pulls him underwater. The second when Blurr fights it with all his might and realizes with sudden horror that his strength isn't enough. That he is. Not enough.

His lungs burn, begging him to take a breath and he doesn't even know which way is the surface because all there is around him is the dark, black, cold pressure of water. It's clinging to him, seeping through his suit, his hair, burning his eyes and making his fingers go numb. It's pulling him somewhere, and he's obeying whether he wants to or not.

His spine prickles with panic.

His personal miracle. His damn magic or guardian angel or cursed luck or whatever the hell it was called. That thing that was always there to catch him like in that game of trust fall. He'd gotten so used to it's presence, he began to take it for granted.

Like the air you trust to be there every time you need to take your next breath.

And right now?

It's not here.

His body takes a convulsive breath and finds nothing but water.

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bamsara · 3 months ago

Text

Very personal vent, will nuke it after a nap I think

2024 was arguably one of the worst years of my life outside of having my heart and brain issues from 2020. I left an abusive situation, still recovering from it, left a *second* toxic friendship that resulted in my physical location being compromised, and right as I think 2025 will be better, one of them comes uninvited into my house *again*, and my step father gets diagnosed with heart failure, with the same exact issues that killed my birth dad. We had to buy a wearable difibulator since it can go out any moment

All that and we are in a hell recession

I am constantly afraid, both in online and in real life spaces. I dont think I have social anxiety in a normal sense, I think im really good at talking to people, but I'm never fast at it and I'm never natural at it.

I constantly worry about taking up too much space and that people I've never met online fucking hate me because I exist in the same sphere as them, that there are preconceived ideas of who or what I am as a person because I'm not seen as a person in the online space but just as a creator, and online: creators are not considered people. I wish some of my stuff never got popular, even SL, not that I don't like talking about what I'm passionate about, but I'm constantly afraid of crossing that line of 'random artist' into being seen as 'self absorbed big shot' because I posted too many au dumps or got too rambley. And if I talk about this, I fear any reassurance I get will because of those prior factors

I've thought about deleting this account before a long while ago, but then I'd lose Everything I've ever done for over 10 years. Not just artwork and community but real life milestones and memories and that's not worth losing over some stressful situations

I genuinely do not understand why we cannot be nice to each other either. I know it's a very vague and general statement and I feel like hard to explain what I mean by that, but I cannot imagine passive aggression, comparison or general rudeness to be the 'default' way people talk! I am so tired of people being mean for fun or to feel like they fit in on a conversation! And I'm not even recieving the mean, I just witness it and its upsetting! Real life and Online! But don't listen to me on that because I want people who've probably don't like me to like me and seek validation from people I have differences with so I am not a good example of judgement.

And my health I'm not even gonna touch that one. But at least I'm working on dental stuff, which is nice. I got health insurance again, right as they go to cut medicaid.

But in my mind I cannot stop thinking about if I can just get better at what I'm doing. If I can get better at artwork that I hate my style of, it's never polished and there's people younger than me who's work is so much better. If I can just write faster or draw better and remember to post things then I don't have to worry about anything else. But I've been drawing for so so long, and my art style that I've put so much time into I feel is the equivalent of a learn-how-to-draw-anime workbook you get in a middle school library. And yes I've been told it's good but all art is good. All art styles are good styles. I just don't like it when I'm the one who draws it.

In the last 12 months I've been IRL stalked, family medical, helping support them with what I do make and also myself and literally every coping hobby I have and have had for over a decade just feels more and more like I'm never improving fast enough or that I just Care Too Much at my big age and I should be doing something more substantial with my life, but if I don't craft something or draw or write even if I despise it in the end then it's so much worse

#sara shush #vent #personal #tw medical #death mention #stalking mention #ngl i will more than likely delete this later

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no1blacksapphirefan · 5 months ago

Note

Hi, really loved your self-aware crk posts and found myself rereading every single one you got (its just so peak!! 🫠)

But imagine somehow managed to get out of the game and into the real world by some mysterious means and seeing the one they perceived the be “god” no longer through a screen, especially gingerbrave and gang + pure vanilla and white lily and deceitful trio

(Would they take human forms or just stay in cookie form in smaller scale?)

Thank you so much omgg? Very sweet of you <33

Ofc Gingerbrave + his gang will be purely platonic as they're kids

You're a parent now to 3 kids/j

I'm not too sure about Candy Apples age so hers is also platonic just encase

I decided to make them have a human form for this but if anyone wants to hear what I think will happen if they stayed in cookie form feel free to tell me or send an ask when it’s opened again 🙂‍↕️

✦ Small Info: In my version of the Self-Aware AU, GingerBrave and his gang see you as bascially a parental figure, you've been with them through all their stories and intentionally or not you probably have them 5A. Most canon minor characters see you as something similar.

Gingerbrave omgongomg?? He didn’t think it was possible. Shadow Milk actually figured it out?? As he stands up from the ground he was sitting on and looks at you amazed, he quickly runs up and hugs you, despite your horrified expression. He tried to calm you down and explain the best he could while trying to contain his excitement from meeting you. But well, he isn't exactly successful.

His attempts don't help, he realises he’s just freaking you out more as you look at the others with him, oh yeah his friends came as well!!

He tries to give you space but oh he's still so amazed to be meeting the person who has joined him on so many of his adventures. Plus you ascended him to 5A right? That's good right?? (Don't tell him it's because he's a common, he hasn't found out yet)

Strawberry she quickly apologies for GingerBrave, she isn’t sure what to do at first…this is her God, someone she thought she’d never meet but…wow you’re here now…and she has the same form as you…by that she means she’s not a cookie. She takes a look at mirror if it’s nearby and silently looks at herself before quietly walking up to you.

She isn’t sure on what to say, she doesn’t want to freak you out more as your eyes dart to every new addition to your room. She silently tries to offer you a lollipop, hoping it’ll cheer you up and when you do accept it she’s so happy. She is a bit scared of the new environment, especially as it is technically completely new but…you’ll help her right?

She doesn't want to be a bother but if you could help her explore your world more she'll be so happy, just one trip. Even if it's just too a shop, she just wants to hang out with her God and see their world.

Wizard he wants to go back. Well okay he’s 50/50. He’d love to stay with you and learn more about you and well…help calm you down now that there was like 8 other cookies…humans? In your room right now on the other…he isn’t sure how it’ll be back at home…well he can stay for a bit longer, it won’t be everyday you get to meet your god and have a new form.

He pulls GingerBrave off you so you could get a bit more breathing space and oh how he wants to ask a few questions about your world and you and the game and— right…he should wait until you’re more calm and settled first. He quickly apologies for the questions he accidentally blurted out.

Pure Vanilla is probably the one who successfully calms you down. He gently explains what happened, Shadow Milk (who I can see is so giddy about his new form) had wanted to come see you for so long but as he finally figured it out, he and a few others got caught in the transportation. He helps you up and offers to clean up the mess they made which, well not even offer, he starts to clean up anyways, it’s the most he could do after they came uninvited.

Deep down he’s so nervous, oh my, oh my god. He’s actually here with his “God” the one who he cared for, for so long ever since he became aware. His heart skips so many beats as he thinks about it, oh and you’re so pretty in person. He wishes he could see it everyday…well…maybe now he can, if this is permanent…you don’t mind right?

He doesn’t mind cooking and taking care of you if it means being able to stay with you.

White Lily she almost instantly apologises. Not even knowing where she was until she looked up and saw you, with such a scared expression. She didn’t do anything for a bit, letting GingerBrave and his friends talk and/or explore your room. Not speaking as Pure Vanilla calms you down.

This feels like an invasion of privacy, no it IS. An invasion of privacy, oh god she feels like she’s the worst, well it’s not her fault but-

“White Lily?”

Your voice snaps her out of her thoughts as she looks at you, quietly nodding with a smile. She’s just nervous…maybe a bit scared as well as you do hold so much power when they were in the game.

But seeing you so gently ask if she’s okay despite the fact they were technically intruding on your personal space? Made her feel a bit better, and when you offered to take her out to your garden to better calm down? Who’s she to turn down her beloved Gods suggestion.

Candy Apple when she sees you and White Lily leaving after saying you’ll be in the garden, she quickly follows, leaving a giddy Shadow Milk looking in a mirror and a wandering Black Sapphire. Now whether or not she’s making White Lily uncomfortable with her tailing, not even tailing she made it obvious: she doesn’t actually care if she is, plus she wants to meet the God herself. Not only is her master Shadow Milk cookie so interested in you, so is her co-worker and she won’t lie. She’s also so interested in you.

She tries to talk to you, interrupting White Lily. Only stopping if you gently ask her too or promise you’ll have a chat with her in a bit. She’ll be sulking but if you go back to her after talking to White Lily as you promised, she’ll feel all better again.

She may bombard you with questions about your world and new things she wants to know about the game. Essentially doing what Wizard cookie accidentally did but she’s not leaving room for you to reply, she’s just making sure you have ample things to talk to her about.

She loves hearing you rant.

Black Sapphire oh? Not a bad style at all, he quite likes his new form. He knew helping Shadow Milk with creating an escape would be worthwhile. Only problem is now there’s a few pesky cookies with you as well.

He doesn’t follow you and White Lily (and Candy Apple cookie) out. Instead he decides to just take a look around the house, he isn’t sure how long they’re able to stay (he hopes forever) but may as well make himself feel more at home right?

When you come back in with White Lily and Candy Apple, he quickly walks up to you to have his turn to talk and to take a closer look. My, seeing his “God” up close, what a sight you were. He has to contain himself though, not yet. He'll have to stick to just talking to you and small hand holding if you'd be so kind.

Just listen to his voice, he tries sweet talking you and getting on your good side if he wasn’t already there, he knows you might be cautious due to him being a Deceit Trio member. He just wants to make sure you trust him better than anyone else.

Shadow Milk once he gets over the initial happiness of how he looks, he looks for you, nearly tackling you into a tight hug as he sees you walking with Black Sapphire. Oh he dreamed of this day and now it was finally here!! He wouldn’t let the fact some other pesky cookie had somehow joined him, cuz you were here with him now.

It was so delightful, now you can have your focus on him only, he can finally hold you, show you the tricks he’s practiced so much to get your attention. He can tell you were still rather..confused about the situation. Fret not he’ll explain better than Pure Vanilla did.

Oh he’s so happy to have succeeded, how he hopes this is permanent…If not, no harm in trying to get back permanently. You don’t mind a new roommate right?

Funny thing guys, I started writing this when I was super tired and planned to schedule it for the middle of the next day, but when I was reading back to check on the typos I probably made I realised I wrote GingerBraves name as GingerGrave, so luckily I checked haha...

#✦ Zeros Self-Aware AU #pure vanilla x reader #white lily x reader #black sapphire x reader #shadow milk x reader #pure vanilla x you #white lily x you #black sapphire x you #shadow milk x you

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thekeeperof-thefandoms · 1 year ago

Text

My girlfriend requested this

Hazbin men trying the period simulator. Somewhat of a follow up to my period post so this is based on the reader having severe period pain due to PCOS/ENDO

Lucifer

The man is sweating before you even attach the simulator. He knows he fucked up. He only agreed to this because he loves you a lot.

He handles the first 3 levels ok. You tell him very few women experience that little pain and that usually 4-6 is the average.

Those levels make him tense. He's uncomfortable, but still pretty able to work and do normal things. 5 has him pausing to do deep breaths every now and then. (If this is the canon timeline where he birthed Charlie he compares it to bad kicks).

6-8 he's pretty much doubled over. If you tell him that's the level you experience, he will cry. Literally begs forgiveness since again, period and labor pain is technically his fault. He is so sorry. If he didn't have issues with his Dad before he does now because this is fucked up. God's fucked up for doing this.

He doesn't make it to 10, he's crying by level 9. This is labor levels of pain. He gets why all you do is sleep. Treats your period like a sacred ritual after that. Preps for weeks. He goes full Bible, sheltering you for the duration of it so you can have peace and quiet. Please never hook him up to this again.

If you wear it at anything from an 8-10 and tell him "It's close, but I've hurt worse" he's gonna sob and then try and fight his Old Man again. He'll settle for offering to have your bits removed for you.

Vox

Once again this man hates admitting he was wrong. And yeah he knows your periods are really bad, especially now he's witnessed it. But it's still a huge knowledge gap for him and he doesn’t really take the time to think about it.

He handles 1-5 well. He's mildly uncomfortable by 5, but thinks that if this is the average experience, then it's not such a big deal. Tell him the statistics on how many people with periods actually experience 6-8 because that's actually the majority, and he's just confused. How is the average pain level not the most common?

6-8 has him gritting his teeth and glitching, but he refuses to stop and keeps trying to work. Is starting to wonder how you went so long working with this level of pain without him noticing.

He makes it to 10, but by then, he's unable to move, clutching his abdomen and sparking and glitching. Tells you it feels like his entire insides are being squeezed. The fact that he can feel it in his groin. He's kind of afraid of period sex with you after that because of how much he felt it. And you said it's caused cramps from your ribs to your knees. He's like... genuinely scared of your period and pain tolerance.

He's going to snuggle the fuck out of you afterwards and apologize for not appreciating how much you still do for him when you're not feeling good. How he didn't see how hurt you were. He does a lot of research after that and not only does he spoil you by buying whatever you need for your periods and giving you time off, he looks into treatment options. Even if that means chopping the useless fucking things out. Sinners can't have kids anyway so who needs ovaries and a uterus?

He's more convinced you should just be rid of the damn things when you wear it and 8-10 is "Yeah, this is close, but it doesn't really cover how much of my body hurts".

Valentino

Is only doing this because he was dared to by Velvette. Or if this an au where he's trying to be a less toxic person. But really I think it's also to prove that you're all being dramatic. It's a perfectly normal body function and his employees are just trying to get out of work.

He gets all the way to 6 before he starts to realize he may have fucked up. Especially when it's explained that this is what most people experience.

By 10 he's gritting his teeth, chain smoking, clawing at things. He refuses to give in, but he can count on one hand the number of things in his entire life and death as a pimp and a whore that he's experienced that come close to this level of pain.

No one told him his dick was gonna hurt. Sitting hurts. Breathing hurts. He doesn't even try to eat. He won't ever admit to being wrong, but he does behave more leniently with his actors when they're on their periods.

If you put it on (and lets say he actually cares about you) and setting 8-10 is "Yeah, this an average day for my cramps. My bad days are like..5 or 6 levels worse" it's gonna rearrange his brain a little. He might be a little afraid of you and some of the other actors with periods because your pain tolerances are so high. It threatens his ability to control you and them. But on the other hand, that's kinda hot???

Alastor

Has never once doubted that people who experience periods undergo serious struggle and has nothing but respect for women (and trans people he just associates it with women more because of the time period and his mama) who work through it.

He is actually the one who heard about the simulator through Rosie and asks you to show him your experience. Just to better understand you. He knows you're the type to try and function through the pain (probably because society ingrained into you that your pain doesn't matter).

Initially, he wants to skip the lower levels and just have you set it to your pain level. You tell him that's a bad idea, and to be honest, you're not sure if this thing goes that high. He asks you to check and you set it to the highest setting and say, "It's pretty close. It's been worse, but this is a rough idea," he's a little frustrated but still tries it.

You agree to set it to 4 and tell him 4-6 is what most people report feeling. He acknowledges it, registers it as unpleasant, but otherwise is fully capable.

7-9 has his ears flat, his smile is more a snarl. This is uncomfortable. Not what he considers painful but certainly irritating. It makes sitting, stretching, and eating feel much more difficult.

10. There's static visble around him. His teeth grind. Actually painful. Not the worst pain he's experienced, but he hates it. He hates the way he feels it in his back and hips as he walks. He hates the way taking deep breaths (which for someone as dramatic as he is and with the transatlantic accent, breathing technique and posture is important) stings. He hates the way it causes his stomach to cramp and churn. He hates the ache in his thighs and groin that make sitting feel stiff and ackward. He can only picture how blood loss would make this worse. Tired, losing nutrients, the headaches, the increased moodiness. It's no wonder you sleep, so much, but he wonders how the Hell you sleep like this? He's snappy and short tempered because of the pain (and again he gets why you would be if you weren't sleeping so much).

How does this affect how he treats you?

Not much. He still expects you to know your body and your limits. He would never dare to presume otherwise. He still helps prepare whatever you need for your time of the month and still meal plans for you, though he perhaps finds ways to ensure you get all the iron and vitamins you need without cooking steak and other big, heavy meals, since he now understands how bad your stomach hurts.

The only really noticeable change is how much more protective of you he is. Your time of the month hits, and Alastor hates being more than a few moments from you. He growls, pins his ears, and his antlers grow when people get too close to you. He's more prone to letting you snuggle with him when you want, trying to comfort you.

Angel Dust

Another who volunteered. His girl besties insist he doesn't have to do this, he's got the pass. He still wants to do it though, for solidarity.

He also starts on 4 and handles it well. He handles all of the levels pretty well, even 10. By 7 it's obvious he's sore, maybe a bit more withdrawn, exhausted, trying not to move too much or eat too much. Just trying to find a comfortable way to exist. The sad problem is, Angel already has to do this after rough nights at Val's.

He's used to sitting being uncomfortable and aches in his groin and thighs, cramps in his stomach from muscles clenching constantly. 10 is the only level where he's visibly ill, hunched over, lower arms curled around his midsection protectively.

He and the girlies all curl up together and nap and chat and snack on easy to digest junk food and granola bars. He's the first one to say "I bet it's even worse for you gals, but I tried".

He gets it. He's one of the girls. Honestly, kind of becomes a favorite when the ladies have period problems. (If you're dating any of the others and Angel is openly your favorite after this it is gonna cause a lot of dramatic pouting, posturing, and tantrum throwing.)

Husk

I'm going full balls to the wall on Veteran Husk. This man has seen some shit and dealt with his fair share of pain. Like Angel he takes it the best, with very little outward reaction. He's used to stiffness and nausea. The pain in his crotch is a little off putting, but it could be worse.

He's more cautious how he moves, rests more, occasionally a cramp causes his ears to pin back or a small hiss. Overall he takes it like a champ.

Offers you endless amounts of supportive words for dealing with this as well as you do, for days on end. Also is deeply sorry you even have to put up with this shit. Offers all sorts of tips on how to do stretches that help with easing cramps and stiffness without pulling something. Tips of foods/protein drinks to keep on hand to make sure you're maximizing how much nutrition you get. Man's a whole ass survival guide.

He only offers advice if you ask, though. He's not mansplaining how to handle your own body. He genuinely wants to help you, and that's the best way he knows how.

When you're on your period and just want something soft and warm he doesn't even bitch about it, he just settles on top of you and purrs, offers a massage, maybe offers a sly grin and a "no man left behind" joke as he helps you through these dark times.

BONUS:

ADAM

Would only do this if you challenged him, he has to prove his masculinity. He is definitely nervous as fuck though because he's seen yours. You and Lute already forced him to sit through a whole PowerPoint on women's anatomy and shit. He remembers how shitty he was to Eve, even if hers were in comparison, not that bad, just scary and new.

You forcing him to learn about and acknowledge female health is making him scared of pussy. This isn't gonna help.

3 and 4 make him whiney. He's uncomfortable. His groin feels weird. This sucks. "WHAT DO YOU MEAN THIS ISN'T EVEN THE AVERAGE?!"

By 5-7 he's actually on his knees, curled over his stomach. He tells you getting stabbed hurt less. This is making him re-evaluate his entire view on women (again he knows about trans people, but because of personal history equates periods to women. Wouldn't hate if a trans person had a period, it would just take his brain a second to process). He whines that you and Lute shouldn't be more badass than him.

"I thought men were supposed to be tougher and stronger. This pain tolerance horseshit is a lie. You guys suck."

He insists on going to 10 because quitting is for losers. He may actually throw up at 10 though. Every time the stupid simulators sends out a pulse and his stomach clenches, he groans. He's in the featal position, there are tears. One hand clenches his stomach the other is cupped around his groin. He's apologizing so much and he doesn't even remember what he's apologizing for. At one point its just "I'm sorry...oh fuck this...sorry about...ugh just...just men?! I guess. Fucking shit ass. Men suck. Women are...fucking great. Aces. You do this shit every month? For like 5 days....what the fuck. What the fuck what the fuck."

You feel a little bad, but Lute is definitely filming this. Afterwards, he tells you you're a badass and any person shit talking people for bitching about period pain (Not that a lot of Winners do, but ya know, obviously they let some questionable people into Heaven if Adam and Lute got by) he's gonna beat the shit out of them. Like "Do you even fucking know, bitch? They're literally so much fucking better than you. Absolute queens. You try doing literally anything when it feels like your dick is falling off and your insides are trying to claw outside your body!"

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel vox #hazbin hotel lucifer #vox x reader #hazbin hotel valentino #lucifer x reader #hazbin hotel angel dust #hazbin hotel husk #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel adam

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yuwuta · 1 year ago

Note

JJK OLYMPICS OHHH YOURE A GENIUS

head spinning w sooooooo many athlete aus rn…..

satoru honestly isn’t half as cocky as the media makes him out to be but he could be because you bring up world champion men’s freestyle swim times and it’s his name on the scoreboard ten times before someone else shows up. he’s faster than himself by fifteen seconds all around, he’s earned a bit of cockiness. mentioned in the last post that whenever he’s at a competition and he finishes a race, he looks at the camera and signs a little infinity sign and then blows a kiss to you. some bitter old coach always calls him out on it, and gets him fined for unsportsmanlike conduct, and he’s happy to pay the fees if it means getting a message home to you, but eventually you two come up with a new code; and at his next race, he places gold, turns to the camera, crosses his middle finger over his pointer finger and smiles. when he’s in his post-race interview, he makes sure to explain that he does it for you with the widest smile on his face.

megumi nepotism baby but not in the same sport. toji was a multi gold medalist back in his heyday for shooting, so it’s not really a surprise to anybody that megumi has scary good aim, but he takes to archery instead of shooting. actually the idea of megumi being an emo little kid and throwing rocks at a tree when his dad pissed him off his hilarious, and even funnier is toji watching him, slightly amused and a little scared because megumi is maybe six and hitting the exact same spot every single time. he grows to be very blase about it—it’s more of a release/hobby for him that he happens to be really good at, and well, now good enough to earn a few olympic medals. megumi is not a fan of having his dad ruffle his hair on international television after he’s won, but he supposes it can’t be helped.

i don’t know where to put yuuta…. tennis…. tempting….. him in his little white shorts…. little grunts after he serves…. cries….. a complete 180 in his personality when he’s playing vs doing anything else. so charming and sweet and kinda shy when he’s being interviewed, and the second he steps on the court his eyes are so cold it’s scary…. need him… extremely nerdy about his rackets, and shoes, and clothes, and rambles to you about aerodynamics and posture and torque whenever you ask him to teach you, and you always have to shutup him up with a kiss and remind him that yeah you sort of want to learn to play tennis for him, but mostly you came bc he looks hot doing it. once he got asked in an interview if he ever thinks about you while he’s playing and his response was very concise, “no, never. it would be a big distraction,” and did not realize the implications of his heavily televised words.

also…. not to make this post 40% yuuta but we could pull from canon a bit and make his sport fencing. he doesn’t excel because he’s the strongest, it’s because he’s learned to treat the sword as an extension of himself and a good strategist… also because i like the image of him pulling the helmet/mask off and shaking his hair out………..

don’t even know where to put yuuji…. volleyball? basketball? track and field??? the irony of him easily being the most athletic but canonically does not want to play sports 😭 but i can see him playing a sport because someone scouts him and it turns out to be a way to make steady money to support himself and his grandpa :( by the time he’s qualified and made it to the olympics, wasuke is doing much better (thanks to yuuji having landed some preemptive sponsorships and being able to afford better medical care), but not so well enough that he can travel across the world to watch yuuji play. wasuke tells you that you should travel and be with yuuji, but yuuji is so touched by the idea that you would stay with his grandpa and be by his side when he’s away :(( he wins gold, of course, and he doesn’t even wait until the closing ceremony—which, he’d mentioned in all of his interviews, so nobody can be too upset. he’s on record saying, “i’m excited to play, but i’m even happier to be going home. my girlfriend and my grandpa are watching me and i miss them!” several times— he’s on the first flight home with flowers, and tears in his eyes. puts his gold medal on his grandpa’s neck as a thank you, and spends probably thirty minutes straight hugging you and kissing you and honestly don’t put it past him to propose now that he’s got nike ambassador money

nanami started judo as a way to relieve the stress of his overbearing job, and someone at the gym/training center notices he seems to be a natural despite being a beginner. he starts to draw a crowd, which annoys him at first because the point of judo was discipline and release from having to deal with too many people at his office job, but nanami supposes he can’t be too mad when you introduce yourself as a talent scout and offer him professional training. there’s irony in him accepting your offer, because it was definitely not based in professionalism at all… quitting his job as a salaryman to become a professional athlete in his mid-twenties was not on his bingo chart, but if it means he will have met you, then so be it. you’re with him all the way, through his training, competitions, world championships, qualifiers, all the way until he’s on the podium. you’re the first to congratulate him, but he interjects by telling you he’s quitting. you ask him why—he just won at the olympics for crying out loud, but nanami just shakes his head, puts down his flowers and his medal so his hands are free to hold your face and tell you, “it would be unethical to kiss my manager, so i am quitting.” (later, when everything is said and done, and you two are cuddling, you mention to him that he could just hire a new manager, and not quit his new career, to which he blushes because yeah… that’s probably more rational, but rational was not in his train of thought at the time)

#anonymous #nanami kento.......................................... god #also yuuji :((((( just a kid who wanted to do something nice for his grandpa I will CRY #immediate proposal when he gets home to you who does he think he is? yuuta?#speaking of yuuta he's like the best player his age and he's always asked to attend events or parties or whatever #and he's always like ah no thank you I am going home to my girlfriend #every fucking interview it's like yeah I love tennis but I love my girlfriend more for supporting and encouraging me #my girlfriend my girlfriend my girlfriend #one day he actually seems Excited to be doing his press conference and a journalist picks up on it to which yuuta happily raises his hand #and lets everyone know that he's now engaged. and very very grateful for his wife #he does the same shit a few years later like randomly during a press conference he's like #'I am kinda nervous. my baby didn't sleep well last night so I was up with him pretty late' and everyone's like BABY?#and yuutas like yeah! he's almost 14 months now do u wanna see him!#let me stop bringing kids into this bc w/ satoru and kento I could go on for hours....#jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen smut #gojo x reader #gojo smut #yuuta x reader #yuuji x reader #megumi x reader #nanami kento x reader #once u asked megumi what he thinks about when he's practicing and he's so deadpan as he reloads and arrow #and right before he lets it go he's like 'ur ex boyfriend' and then hits the target dead in the center LMFAO #olympics au

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sunnyknight-original · 8 months ago

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What Kind Of Monster Was He?

A @forgettable-au fan (colored) animatic

MINOR BLOOD WARNING!

*Was he the kind to do too much, or not enough?

…OK, SO WHAT HAD HAPPENED WAS-

I had planned to finish this into a full fledged animation, but a lot of the parts I did end up finishing just didnt live up to what I imagined…I waited for more motivation to happen, but it just didnt so HERES THE COLORED ANIMATIC CAUSE IM REALLLY HAPPY WITH WHAT I HAVE and ive sat on posting this for like a 2 weeks 😭 which is an eternity in my time

Im gonna post the unfinished “finished” part on my side account @o-sunny-day though! and probably have people yell at me cause it actually isnt that bad AND IT TOTALLY ISNT I just… art. You get it. ENOUGH YAPPING! ITS TIME TO YAP!

except not yet, MORE BACKGROUND INFO HUCDHUC- but its background info on explaining the lore…

The explaining is much less expansive than in Dear My Dear just because I didnt work on it long enough to think every bit of it through. This is just a clean, nicer looking, and colored version of the very first storyboard.

I usually think about and put more effort into the little stuff while making the FINISHED bits since ive had so much more time to think about that in all the preppin n sketching.

BUT I liked the explaining format I did for Dear My Dear so im sticking with it!

The main idea for this was to do a study of Wingdings’ character from what we’ve been given, mainly focusing in on the expectations he puts on himself because holy shit the lyrics for this works so stupidly well it makes me mad LOOK AT THIS???

its ridiculous. i love it. I didnt know Jack Stauber helped write Forgettable AU???? woww!!! ANYWHO thats the gist of it, not much context is needed past that. Onto the sillies!!!! (per usual excuse the shitty quality of the pngs idk why Tumblr does that-)

Did you know love? Will you rest in peace?

Wingdings and Sans holding hands as kids, before turning to a casket like appearance for adult WD. The flowers hes holding are pretty important too, Marigolds to represent grief, Lilys, new life, and Forget Me Nots for this lovely little line I found when looking up good flowers to use-

“a promise to always remember” ….stop that.

That actually also has a double meaning in this case too. 1, ofc the forgetting of Wingdings. But ALSO Wingdings forgetting something himself. Forgetting who he is. Almost like a Zuko ATLA situation.

Did you have a family?

Who knows where theyre parents are, but this is HAPPY TIME and we’re gonna assume they were so awesome and very kind but had to leave or went to a farm in the sky for whatever reason.

The colors here I had a lot of fun with. Their parents had warm colors but the boys have cold, still with warm accents. Its said they more or less raised each other being very independent as shown in the second part with them running out the door by themselves.

How was the view from the shelf? Did you ever believe in yourself?

Before, we started with the beginnings. The good things, the only thing Wingdings cares to even recall. Now we’re seeing his life really start to turn upside down- making first contact with The Player :D

He’s hesitant to reach out, but is intrigued, before getting a rushing revelation of his reality and how it isnt “real”

Rather than feeling crushing existential dread, he more feels pressured to be BETTER, to figure a solution, to do something. Thats what white represents here

WHAT KIND OF MILK WERE YOU?

We then switch to more examples of how Wingdings is taking this pressure (not well) The soft tones of yellow that were shown before, turn to way brighter, intensifying that feeling that he should be fine, he should be happy, drowning in success of being the Royal Scientist.

But he just desperately wants to just go back to a time of nice coldness.

The warm vs cold tones in this I had so much fun with, coldness is supposed to represent hostility usually, while warm is nice and happy. (same with Black and white. Scary, relieving,) But these points often contradict each other, its hard to tell what you’re feeling vs what you’re supposed to be feeling. Just like Wingdings!

WHAT KIND OF LIFE DID YOU LIVE THROUGH?

The white lab coats, the expectations, theyre on all of them. But Wingdings has essentially become his expectations.

He questions what life he wants to live, one being himself and alone (speaking in wingdings) or not himself and with company (speaking in a “normal” font) Still, he frames it in past tense as he believes theres no going back now, based on what he knows.

“One of the last happy moments they had together” stop that. (i cant find a link to when that was said but I know it was once, about them taking a photo together….)

DID YOUR LIFE RUN RICH WITH CALCIUM?

Calcium….bonesss :3 Hehehehdhehfhehehheheheh still dont know why he has holes in his hands so we’re movin on

DID THEY LAUGH AT YOU OR DID YOU LAUGH AT THEM?

Compared to the childhood Wingdings remembered, heres the sadder, bleaker, more realistic version. He always thought they were laughing at him but… maybe they werent.

DAIRY BELOVED. YOUR DAYS ARE GONE,

It doesnt matter now though. Because in the NOW, Wingdings has become consumed by his expectations of himself, seeing this has the “only option” to do the only thing that he feels will give his life meaning and purpose, establishing connection with THE PLAYER

But the grocery list goes on…

And yet life continues on without him, and his room is transformed into a more livable space now that someone is…living in it. Always hurts so much making the differences between Wingdings and Papyrus’ room. It feels like making something out of the man Wingdings COULD HAVE been. Because honestly thats just what Papyrus is,

Thank you to my bestie @fruitytrip for helping me with all of my art in general but especially the storyboarding on this :3 <3

#Milk by Jack Stauber #undertale animatic #Wingdings why #Hes a sad sad little man #ohhh who you could have been #if you didnt have a self destructive arc #sometimes i think about him being religiously obsessed with The Player #and then he comes to find out the player (me in this case) is religiously obsessed with him #like oh damn this is awkward #uhhh #wanna get coffee?#I love using cold colors for comfort and warm for terror #I was very spesifically proud of the shot with the white turning into a spotlight #then him turning into just a silly kid looking at a softer glow #o and happy new year gang :D #late #but #happy new year gang :D

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ramp-it-up · 7 months ago

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Peach, Part IV

Peach III | Peach V

Summary: Steven Grant Rogers is Bucky Barnes' best friend and business parter in crime. He has decided to get out of the life with Bucky because it's the right thing to do. And now he is in love. With you. He wants to move forward with you and now he's got you on his turf.

Pairing: Art Dealer/Philanthopist (Mob Boss) Steve Rogers x Reader (Peach)

A/N: I love these two with my whole heart. This is turning into the slowest of burns, sorry not sorry. This fic is connected to the Bucky Barnes Knock You Down AU, and DIRECTLY AFTER the events in the Bucky Barnes fic Worth the Fall and the Steve Rogers fic Peach III. We're at the second week of December, there is still so much in my head to say. Your interaction keeps me writing, so let me know if you like it by commenting and reblogging.

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. SMUT. Read at your own risk. Angst. Slow burn, Mutual pining, idiots in love, drinking, body parts tingling, wild wild thoughts of breeding, taking each other down in various ways, and cock riding. Not Beta'd. All errors my own.

I no longer have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post! 😘

I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

--------

On one of your many walks along the beach, you teased your cousin about being the future Mrs. Bucky Barnes, and she tried to get you to talk about Steve, explaining some of the backstory to what happened in Atlanta.

But you were intransigent.

“Look. I know how stubborn you are. And how tough you are, because you’ve had to be. But I also know how big your heart is and how worthy you are of love. You are passing up on the chance to find your one true love.”

You scoffed.

“Love? Everyone can’t be all starry eyed and head over heels like you and Bunny boy.”

She laughed and shook her head at your nickname for Bucky, who you’d grown to like a lot over the weekend.

“And Steven, disguised at Grant, just wanted to get in my panties, which he achieved.”

You looked toward the waves as you thought about how Grant got you to see fireworks that night in your apartment, and the things Steve said that he wanted to do to you the other night.

“I have no doubt that Steve Rogers wants to fuck you girl. Look at you. You are fine as fuck.”

You laughed at your cousin dressing you down and gassing you up at the same time.

“But let’s be clear. You wanted to fuck him too. You still do. I see the way you look at him.”

“Hey! I didn’t lie–”

“Ah-ah!”

She silenced you with a finger.

“I know he lied about who he was, but were you completely honest with him? Totally?”

You side eyed your cousin as you imagined strangling her. But you weren’t eleven years old anymore.

And she wasn’t wrong.

“Yes, Steve lied, but he wants to make amends. He has feelings for you.”

You gave your cousin a side eye.

“Did he tell you that? And you trust him?”

“With my life.”

She put her arm around you and pulled you close as you walked.

“Listen, I know you are guarding your heart, but I know Steve. He’s got this exterior that seems one way, but he will surprise you. He’s a really, really good guy.”

You sighed, still not there yet.

“I’m good on that, cousin.”

“Okay. I’ll tell him that you have a heart of stone and that he should move on. It’s not like there aren’t bitches lined up to suck his dick every day in the city…”

A jolt of jealousy zipped through you, but you pushed it down. You just took a deep breath and gave her an overly bright smile.

“I don’t care who slobs on his lil’ knob.”

She rolled her eyes at you.

“Riiggght, cousin. Anyway. You are still taking the endowment money right?”

You raised your eyebrow at her and nodded.

“Nothing is going to get in the way of this dream, cousin.”

She grinned back at you, almost as bright as the sun.

“That’s my girl! We gon’ have a time in New York City…”

—

Sunday morning before you drove back to Atlanta, you went to the kitchen just as Steve came back in from a run on the beach. The rest of the family was going to Church and then he, Bucky and your cousin were going to fly back to New York on the private jet.

“Hey.”

He chucked his chin up at you like you were one of his bros.

The audacity.

“Hello.”

You kept it cute as he moved around you to grab a glass to get some water from the tap. The scent of sweat, ocean air, and him wrapped around you and you inhaled deeply, closing your eyes to savor it. It was like you were lost.

You opened your eyes to find him watching you as he downed the glass in one gulp, a drop of water escaping and rolling down his chin to his neck and disappearing into the already wet collar of his tight t-shirt.

You cleared your throat as he maintained eye contact with you and wiped his lips with his thumb, and some unseen force made you watch those thick fingers that felt you up not a month before, your nipples tight and panties wet.

Damn, this man and his effect on you.

You stared as his eyes swept down your body as if he knew what you looked like naked. He had seen you dance, and felt you up over and under your clothes, but that wasn’t what the look of possession was about.

This man wanted you.

—-

Steve almost ran back outside when he saw you in the kitchen as he came in. He’s taken a run to calm the erection he had when he woke up because of you, and now, here you were, dressed almost exactly the same as when he had the opportunity to kiss you and make you cum in his arms exactly 29 days earlier.

Yes, he was keeping count.

Steve was practically speechless, yet he managed to get out a crude, ‘Hey’ and a head motion as a greeting. What was that?

He wanted close to you, to feel your skin against his lips again, to check and see if you were wet, which you were judging from your slightly open lips and blown pupils. He didn’t go near you as he got a drink however, because no matter how much he was into knife and gun play, he wasn’t going there.

Steve wanted in your heart, not just your pants.

When you closed your eyes and visibly inhaled (probably to calm your anger, he imagined), he used the opportunity to watch your chest rise and watch the sunlight play on your skin. Those beautiful eyes caused his heart to clench when you opened them and he couldn’t tear his away as he drank his water.

Which he needed at the moment. Desperately.

Unconsciously, he wiped his lips with his thumb, remembering the texture of you as he did so. You cleared your throat, snapping him out of it.

“Peach…”

He stopped, waiting for your retort. You just stood there, expectant and although he was shocked as shit, he continued.

“I want to apologize for lying to you and for allowing things to get…physical while you believed a lie.”

You watched him for what seemed like a long time, but was really only seconds.

“I accept your apology, Steve, and I believe in forgiveness, if only for myself being able to move on, but I’m not ready to forget or fully trust you.” Steve nodded.

“I get it. I’m really sorry.”

You shrugged.

“I know you were trying to help Bucky get clean for my cousin, and I love her big, so, I can’t stay mad. And it’s clear that you are ride or die for those you love.”

And then you cocked your head at him in that adorable way and his heart crumbled into the sparkly bits of honey in your eyes.

“I feel like you love my cousin. Like family. So I guess that makes us family too.”

When you gave him a small smile, he smiled back dreamily. He was a teenage boy in your presence.

“I guess you’re right.”

Steve thought of family and a vision of you as a mother had him in a chokehold. You had him raging hard and wanting to bend you over the kitchen island and breed you until his seed dripped down your legs. Instead, he moved behind it to hide his condition.

“We will have to be in contact because of the endowment, which I am taking because of my students and the fact that it’s been my dream since I was 12 years old. It was then that I started being told that I was all wrong. My ass was too big. My breasts were too bouncy. I didn’t have a ‘desirable dance body.’”

Steve’s eyes openly scanned you. He looked angry, then scoffed.

“That's ridiculous.”

“Of course it is.”

“Don't change a thing. That would be criminal.”

You paused and then gave him a slightly larger smile then.

“Believe me, I'm not planning to change myself. I’m planning on changing the world.”

Steve stared at you, astounded at your fierce courage. No one else could compare.

“I’m serious. I know that sounds grandiose, but I want to leave my mark. I started a dance company so that any body with talent can get on a stage and have a career, regardless of their shape and size. That’s why I’m accepting the endowment. We can be business partners if it means those dreams can come true.”

You were a force. Damn, that only made Steve love you more.

“Brava, Peach.”

You stared back into those baby blues and coughed, trying to clear your throat from the lump that had formed there. Your goals and dreams always made you get intense.

“Need some water?”

Steve was already reaching for another glass. His eyes went wide as you reached for his and finished off what was left in it. He almost came at the thought of your lips where his had been. Holy mother of god.

“That hit the spot, thanks.”

You licked your lips and he nearly fainted, and as you turned toward the stairs, giving him a view of your backside, and looked back at him, he almost ethered to the sky.

“See you next week, Mr. Rogers. Have a safe flight.”

—-

Steve felt frantic the entire seven days leading up to the day he’d see you again. He and Sam and Nat and Bucky had lots of work to do, but he felt like a bumbling idiot, because his perfectionism was getting in the way.

Bucky saw the barriers Steve’s mind was putting in his way and spent extra time helping him. That’s why Bucky was his brother, Steve’s only family since his mother died when he was a kid.

They worked day and night, it seemed, to be ready for the summit.

Steve managed to take a few minutes to himself each night, sketching before he slept. The images of you that came from the lead of his pencil soothing his spirit and filling his dreams. They also caused him to wake up with a stiff reminder of your feel and smell in his nostrils.

Steve Rogers couldn’t wait to see his Peach again.

—--

You kept checking the emailed itinerary on the phone as you tried to relax in business class. All of the endowment recipients were arriving in New York around the same time period in the afternoon, and you were being picked up and chauffeured to your hotel, then three hours later, to a reception at a club in the Rebirth Building.

Then, you would be left to your own devices for dinner and to turn in or turn up. Turning up with your cousin was the only option.

You decided to try and catch some zzzz’s on the plane so you wouldn’t be too tired later. You also wanted to calm your nerves. This was a big deal for your dance school, you told yourself. You weren’t nervous about seeing Steve Rogers again on his turf.

Not at all.

—---

The driver that picked you up from the airport, complete with your name on a placard, Nico, was super nice. You were surprised that your cousin was in the car. You two squealed and talked and laughed on the way, and you were in such a good mood that you didn’t pay much attention when she addressed him by his first name very familiarly. He must be a very friendly guy.

Your check-in at the 1 Hotel Brooklyn was a breeze. The concierge let you know that you checked in at the right time; you happened to be upgraded to a one bedroom suite with a view of the New York skyline and the Statue of Liberty. The king sized bed looked like a dream, so you took a nap before you got ready for the evening. You wanted to be at your best amongst the other five Endowment awardees.

—-

You walked into the bar, Bea, and you were struck at how gorgeous it was, and how masculine.

There was rich mahogany wood everywhere, and the bartop material was a dark black honed marble. There were luxurious upholstered leather chairs and booths throughout and floor to ceiling wine coolers.

You were looking around in awe as a young woman came up and handed you a name tag.

“You must be Ms. YLN. Welcome.”

You greeted her as your cousin smirked at you. She grabbed two flutes of champagne from a passing wait staff.

“How…”

You gaped at her.

“All staff have been briefed on all of you. Nothing but the best this week.”

“Oh. Okay…” She giggled as you continued your inspection of the place. Steve and ‘nem had more money than you thought. A lot more. A thought crossed your mind.

“Wait. Do you work for them?”

You narrowed your eyes at your cousin as she rolled hers.

“Well, tangentially. Bucky funded our Howard Benson exhibit at the Center and so I’ve worked with Rebirth on some Harlem Renaissance initiatives around Brooklyn and the other boroughs. I’ve also een helping Bucky and the crew prepare for this week.”

“Ah. Okay.”

You took a sip of your drink and continued your perusal.

It was your cousin’s turn now.

“Listen, bitch.You’ve got to chill. No one is out to get you, especially me.”

Your cousin looked halfway angry. But she was still adorable.

“You’re so fucking cute. Love looks good on you.”

You smiled at her serenely and she shook her head at you, knowing you too well.

“Don’t give me your shit, Peach. I was there in Hilton Head. You will act like you have some sense.”

“I’m civilized, cousin. Steve and I had a talk before I left. I’m chilling.”

“You better.”

She pointed to the gathering crowd in the room.

“Now go network.”

—--

Your laugh. It gave Steve goosebumps.

He hadn’t heard your full laugh much in Atlanta, just some low, sexy chuckles, because you two hadn’t talked much. And you certainly weren’t happy when he showed up at your family’s house. But you seemed much more relaxed this evening and Steve decided that it was his favorite thing in the world.

He spotted you as soon as you walked in with your cousin and she was beautiful as always.

But you.

When you finally noticed him, you seemed surprised, eyes wide and mouth slightly open, but not angry at all. He gained hope, and stood up straight, wondering if he looked good to you because you were certainly a vision to his eyes.

The outfit you were wearing was classy, yet could not hide that body from the eyes that studied it every chance he got. Which was every time he saw you.

As you mingled, and he shmoozed, he consistently had to force his eyes away from your tempting curves, your gorgeous face, the sound of your voice. And that fucking laugh. It wrapped itself around his heart and squeezed, seeped into his soul and spread warmth.

Not to mention the effect you had on his cock.

You were a fucking vision in black wide-legged leather pants and a plain white tee that hugged your mouthwatering tits, accessorized with red pointy heels a red clutch and an off white wool trench coat. The edgy outfit was very appropriate for the art world and although you were all covered up, your body wasn’t hidden from him, only accentuated. To top it off, your normally coily hair was straightened and loosely curled, calling for his fingers to slide through the thick strands.

It’s your eyes that got to him, though, those fucking beautiful eyes that he longed to see hazy with the pleasure he was giving you. He maintained eye contact with you as he thought his lurid thoughts, and raised his drink in a salute. You smiled at him and raised your drink in response and his heart soared.

Although he wanted to be near you immediately, he decided to give you some space. He didn’t want to force anything. Well, maybe he wanted to force his thick cock into your tiny cunt.

He licked his lips, then shook his head and scowled at Bucky as he noticed Steve staring at you. But he didn’t stop.

Careful now, Steve told himself. Take it slow.

—--

You mingled and met some of your fellow recipients. They were a diverse group of people from all over the country, but most seemed type cool. There was one who latched on to you, Sharon Carter. She was a photographer from Memphis and was very chatty. She was glued to your side as you made the rounds and you weren’t too mad. She just didn’t shut up.

“How do you like your room? A double with a view of the base of the Brooklyn Bridge. And after a three hour coach flight. Fancy.”

You sipped your drink and Sharon’s sarcasm. Your mind started whirling.

“Get a load of those beautiful people right there. Those are our benefactors.”

You looked to where she was indicating and were surprised to see Steve standing with Bucky, another tall handsome man with a low cut fade, and a petite fit redhead woman. They all looked to belong on a movie poster.

But Steve.

He was leaned against the bar, arms crossed over his broad chest, perfectly tailored dark green sport coat and black wool sweater, hugging his broad shoulders and trim waist like nobody’s business. His dark slacks were hanging on for dear life to those massive thighs, and his thick dark blond hair was tousled, like he’d been running his hands through it all day. You liked his hair cut short in the back with the length on top. There was still something to grab on to.

Damn him. It should be illegal for a man to look that fucking good, especially at this hour, with you already having had two glasses of champagne.…

You caught eye contact with Steve and your world spun for a second as you connected across the room. His eyes… God, his eyes.

Those steely blues were blazing with a heat that you could feel in your pussy, somehow containing a hunger that threatened to consume you. He stood up straight, and if you didn’ know any better, you would have thought that he flexed a little as he stared at you. Your pussy thought so, but your brain thought he wouldn’t try to hurt you like that.

He did, however, raise his glass to you and you couldn’t help but respond in kind.

You turned your attention to Bucky as he started to speak, and grabbed a bottle of water from a waiter, thinking you needed a clear head when you had to actually talk to Steve and not just acknowledge him from across the room.

"Good evening, everyone, and welcome to the Rebirth Art Foundation’s annual celebration of creativity and innovation in the arts. This is a gathering to honor six extraordinary artists whose talent, vision, and hard work have earned them a place among the most promising creators of our time….”

You watched your cousin who was totally enraptured by what Bucky was saying. You got a warm feeling as you saw what true love looked like. You smirked as you saw her make her way over to him as Nat stepped up to speak. You were so happy for your fam.

“Now Bucky Barnes is a snack. Wonder if he’s taken?”

You side eyed the hussy and then pointed at your cousin, who hadn’t made it to Bucky yet.

“I think that’s his wife or something right there.”

Sharon took a sip of her drink and wrinkled her nose.

“Ha! Nice joke. But I don’t think they go together, meaning they don’t match. Get it?”

You stared daggers at her. This bitch. Then you glanced at your cousin and her man again.

“You might want to tell him that, because he looks like he’s about to take her tonsils out with his tongue.”

Sharon’s mouth dropped open to see them making out in a corner. You couldn’t help but laugh as she shrugged, then brightened when Steve gained the mic.

“Never mind him. Steve Rogers is the entire meal. I have it on good authority that his dick is big.”

You looked from her to Steve, a sinking feeling in your stomach. Were you going to catch a case in New York City over a man that was not your man?

Or was he your man?

“Good evening, and welcome. It’s an honor to have you all here as we celebrate six incredible artists who are pushing the boundaries of what’s possible in the art world and are poised to change the entire world.”

Steve looked straight at you then, and you held his gaze for that fraction of a second as he raised his eyebrow as electricity zapped between you before his eyes continued around the room.

Sharon was forgotten momentarily and you bit your lip. Whew. You had to refrain from fanning yourself as he continued.

“At Rebirth, we believe that art is more than just a medium—it’s a force that connects us, challenges us, and shapes our future. This week, I encourage you to not only take in everything around you but also to share your unique perspectives. Creation, art, and collaboration are the soul of this foundation, and I’m excited to see what bonds form this week. Congratulations once again, and let’s make something amazing together!”

“Come on, now is the time to meet them. Maybe I can make something amazing with Steve Rogers tonight.”

You let yourself be dragged over to where the four were standing as Sam was finishing his welcome and you introduced yourself to each as you tried to listen to Sharon simping.

Each person smiled warmly at you, and Bucky pulled you in for a hug, which made Sharon side eye you both, but only for a moment as her attention turned to Steve.

“Mr. Rogers, I’m Sharon Carter. You know my Aunt Peggy.”

Steve blanched.

“Peggy? Your… Aunt?”

Sharon laughed, a little shrilly to your ears.

“Yes. She’s my mother’s half sister. Born to the second wife, 18 years younger than my mom. They weren’t that close. But Peggy and I are just like sisters.”

“Oh.”

Steve looked a little trapped.

“Didn’t know that. It’s a small world.”

Peggy leaned closer to him, but you heard her stage whisper.

“Don’t worry, I won’t share the secrets she told me…”

Steve looked at her like she was crazy and then looked at you, almost in panic. You could see the anxiety in his eyes, so you decided to rescue him.

“Mr. Rogers. Hi. ”

The huskiness of your voice, the way his name sounded on your tongue. It calmed him and sent a lightning bolt of desire through him. Steve wanted to hear you call him that in a very different context.

Steve’s face changed when he looked at you. He shifted toward you, much to Sharon’s chagrin.

“My name is Y/N Y/LN, and it’s so good to finally meet you. I hope that this is the start of a great partnership.”

Steve cocked his eyebrow at you and smiled as you took his hand. You initiating touch with him was the start of his wet dreams of late. His thumb stroked your hand as he held it.

“I hope so too, Ms. Y/LN. I’ve been meaning to talk to you…”

“Please, call me Peach, Mr. Rogers.”

Nat came around and distracted Sharon as Steve put his hand on the small of your back to guide you to the side of the bar to talk. His smell enveloped you and his touch had you walking carefully, because your knees were weak.

“What did you want to talk about Mr. Rogers?”

He shook his head, his eyes dark now.

“Call me Steve, Peach, please.”

His voice was rougher, and impossibly deeper as he begged, and it sent chills straight to your pussy. You cocked your head and he in turn licked his lips.

“Why?”

“Because if you keep calling me Mr. Rogers, I–”

He stopped and your lust-addled brain filled in the gaps. Your lips parted on a soft inhale. Steve, on the other hand, inhaled sharply.

And then exhaled slowly.

“How was your flight?”

Steve thought it best to talk of the mundane, because he was half a second from bending you over the bar in front of all these people.

“It was… great. I appreciated the business class seat.”

His eyebrow shot up.

“You got upgraded? How fortunate.”

“Ummmmhmmm. So you didn’t know?”

“Promise.”

Steve’s mouth quirked up in a half smile, because he knew you didn’t trust him, but you were so cute when you were grilling him.

“And you didn’t know about the upgrade at the hotel?”

“No…”

“I have a king suite with a killer view of the city.”

Steve grinned now and you almost shielded your eyes.

“Seems you’re lucky.”

You stared into his eyes to see if he was lying, but you didn’t see anything there but feelings you didn’t want to name. But because of your history, you still didn’t trust what he said. Nevertheless, you decided to let it go. There was something else you needed to know.

“So, who’s Peggy?”

Steve grimaced.

“She’s someone I knew a long time ago. We were close. Once. But not anymore.”

You just kept looking at him.

“She’s moved on, married to a rich guy on the west coast. And I’ve moved on as well.”

You straightened up as he gazed down at you. You didn’t know why you cared so much. And you didn’t want to analyze his last sentence.

“Oh.”

Now, Steve was smiling down at you like he thought you were jealous.

Which was absurd.

And he looked as if he was happy about that ridiculous idea.

You were right.

Steve was jumping for joy on the inside at the way you reacted to hearing about Peggy. He didn’t expect to think about her, much less have to explain her to you tonight, but if it led to you realizing you had feelings for him, he was glad of Sharon’s connection. And the way she ran her mouth, although it was annoying.

“You good, Peach?”

You weren’t good. You found yourself wanting to show Steve your suite, especially the ceiling, as you rode his cock on the king sized bed so as to make him forget about any other pussy ever existing. But you must have been tweaking.

You needed to get out of there.

You turned around and went to find your cousin.

“I’m great Mr. Rogers. You have a good night.”

And Steve was left watching you walk away again.

——

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joocomics · 8 months ago

Text

LONG STORY SHORT

─ ⋆ dinna’s holiday special 2024 ⋆༄

✭ event is 18+ only

pairing: non-idol!jungsu x fem!reader

genre: smut w/ plot ── 8.5k words

when christmas comes around you know your emotions will be all over the place, because the one thing your parents look forward to the most, is inviting their best friends whose son kim jungsu is the guy you try to not think about unless you want to make your standards even higher, and your chances to find a boyfriend soon - lower. one sleepless night turns into an opportunity to look back on some shared memories, but to also tell each other things both of you believed will remain unsaid...

✎… childhood friends au, friends to lovers trope, soft!dom!jungsu, sprinkle of fluff and comfort, protected sex, lots of kissing, mutual masturbation, fingering, handjob, dirty talk, pet names, size kink (big dick!jungsu), size training, praise kink, oral sex (f!rec)

🎧 now playing… mushroom chocolate - quin, 6lack ; fuck up the friendship - leah kate ; be my baby - ariana grande ; lovefool - the cardigans ; are we still friends? - tyler, the creator

( event masterlist )

“Do you think he’s still single?”

“Probably not.”

“Hmmm...” Your friend on the other line goes silent for a second. “I don’t see any pictures of him with a girl so far.”

“Are you lurking on his Instagram account right now???”

“I’m not lurking,” she calmly explains herself as you continue pacing around the room. Waiting. “I’m getting familiar with the guy that’s about to spend a night in your house. See if there’s anything suspicious that we should know about.”

“Jungsu is the most harmless guy I know.”

“I know you grew up together, but you haven’t talked about him a lot. I’m curious.”

You pick up a noise from outside and you peek through the window only to see the familiar car of Jungsu’s parents parking in front of your house.

“Shit, he’s here!” Your voice comes out barely audible.

It’s like you had to see it with your own two eyes to believe it - to believe that he’s really going to be in front of you just like before. Till now, it has been just a possibility that may or may not happen which is ridiculous of you to think that way - you always spend the Christmas holidays together.

There’s no Christmas without Kim Jungsu.

You tell your friend you’re gonna text her when you can and she giggles through one sly “have fun!” before hanging up.

You inhale a deep breath to control your heart rate; it already quickens before you even hear the doorbell ring.

It feels just like last year. Or slightly more intense, judging by how much you are overthinking the moment he’s going to walk through the front door.

There’s an echo inside your head; Why? Why? Why? But your brain cannot ponder the question right at this point of time. Not when you’re this giddy with excitement to see one of your closest friends again, but also nervous to face your first love - though unrequited, it still turned you into the biggest hopeless romantic. You wouldn’t be the person you are right now without it.

You and Jungsu grew up together after all; you’ve shared so many things - from toys and lunch boxes to living on the same street. Even after you entered high school and started hanging out in two separate friend groups, you continued walking to school every morning together, only to wait for each other at the bus stop and return home together too. It was your tradition; a habit that your evolving interests and social lives couldn’t break.

Until you started college here, and he - three hours away - and you started drifting apart, texting each other only on special occasions or if provoked by an Instagram post, and ending birthday calls with you should visit me sometime, but neither of you ever did.

Maybe if his parents didn’t move to a different distanced neighbourhood as soon as the first school year started you would’ve stayed more in touch now. He would’ve been able to drop by your door for an hour every time he visits during semester breaks.

Maybe…

You’re about to run upstairs so it doesn’t look like you’ve been waiting for his arrival when your mom calls out for you to come back and stop being rude.

You keep your distance in the hallway with heart racing, breath hitched in your throat and eyes inspecting the scene in front of you. Your mom welcomes the guests warmly one by one and you do the same while helping out by taking the Christmas presents inside.

Jungsu walks in last, with a big backpack hanging from his broad shoulders and a navy blue beanie on his head. The hallway turns extra smaller now that he’s inside too, trying to make his way without pushing anyone to the ground.

As he patiently waits for his parents to take off their shoes and head to the living room so he can move around freely, he keeps staring at the floor, too flustered by your mother’s compliments on how handsome he’s become to look up. Once she’s had enough of admiring him and steps back, his eyes shift curiously in search to look for you.

They easily spot you, standing speechless in the corner, and although you take a second to react, his eyes crinkle into a smile on the instant.

You notice the soft upturn of the corners of his mouth, then the flush caused by the cold air on his cheeks and nose which you’ve always been fond of.

Next, you feel his puffer jacket is freezing, because you shudder after he embraces you into a hug.

That’s when the world around you finally stills.

“Your hair!” You gasp as you take a proper look at him after he removes the beanie.

“Hi to you too.” Jungsu chuckles softly.

He blinks at you few times with surprise as he takes a second to comprehend your astonished reaction; to acknowledge the small changes in your appearance. They’re something minor, but surely they are there, or he wouldn’t be feeling the need to stop what he’s doing and question what exactly feels different.

“You’ve never had such short hair before,” you note, hiding hands in the pockets of your jeans to suppress the urge to run fingers through what seems like a fresh haircut.

“Should I take this as a compliment or…”

“I mean, I just saw that you pretty much still suck at taking compliments so,” you shrug shoulders meanwhile Jungsu presses lips at the sight of your sarcastic face, because he cannot deny that observation of yours, “but I do like it.”

“You look good too.”

Your stomach makes a somersault and you look away, but seconds before you do, your face earns a glow that Jungsu does not miss out on noticing.

You thought that after such a jolly evening you’re going to fall asleep the moment you get into your bed, but turns out the lingering exciment keeps you awake and energised for longer.

It’s almost two in the morning when you go downstairs and make out some noise coming from the living room. Lights flicker in the darkness as you step in to discover that it’s not all coming from the decorated Christmas tree, it’s also Jungsu’s laptop. It’s resting on the coffee table with something playing in low volume as he’s occupying the entire couch by laying comfortably on his side.

You’re about to tiptoe when you see him shooting a curious glance over his shoulder the moment you close the door.

“Why are you awake?” He asks; his voice is not drowsy at all.

“I can’t fall asleep and got thirsty.”

Jungsu’s attention leaves the screen, suddenly too compelled by the appearance of your silhouette in front of him.

He reminds himself that you’re one of his best friends as he acknowledges the beauty of your legs illuminated from the glowing desktop screen; they force his eyes to follow every small movement of your hips and to travel up your figure, noticing more parts of you for the very first time. You’re one of his best friends, but last year you weren’t wearing such little shorts… so exposing…

He needs to stop before it gets obvious and awkward.

“You?” You’re still standing up, taking another sip of water before placing the cup on the table.

“Same here,” Jungsu murmurs. Sighing, he sits up, then lifts his arms to stretch.

His plain white shirt rides up his body, exposing a sliver of his lower abdomen. Your eyes fixate right upon it, staring at the waistband of his sweats that’s resting loosely on his waist too.

The cold water does not do anything to stop the heat from enveloping your body. Maybe it’s perhaps the reason you take longer to direct your shameless stare somewhere else; now, there’s also a dangerous train of thoughts settling in your mind as you capture the intimate view.

“Severance?” You step forward to take a peek at what he’s watching in order to stop yourself while you still got time. “You got taste.”

“Have you seen it?” Jungsu raises brows as you sit down next to him.

“Yeah, it’s a pretty good mindfuck, isn’t it?”

Your question is followed by an unexpected notification from your phone that buzzes in your hand.

What ends up pleasantly surprising you is not the person who’s texting you, though, but the particular way in which Jungsu shows interest in them.

“Who’s thinking about you at this hour?”

Still to this day, he always listens to you share what you’re up to with genuine interest, and you listen to him do the same too, but with slightly different emotions you can bet. These few hours of alone time you get during the holidays are the moments when you learn new things about him as well, things that you probably wouldn’t have known otherwise, and as silly as it may sounds… sometimes those moments make you feel melancholic.

You’re happy that he found the place where he belongs, but you also miss him.

“Uhm, a friend of a friend…” You mumble, putting your phone away. “He texts me once in a while.”

“Do you like him?” Jungsu asks despite noticing the casual way you ignored the message.

“Not like that.” You suppress a chuckle. “He’s funny and nice to chat with, but that’s all.”

“So you like someone else?”

You stare at his familiar side profile as he continues to pay attention to the episode at the same time.

As if he feels your gaze lingering on his skin, Jungsu looks in your direction.

You swiftly switch your expression from astounded to laid back and unbothered by these straightforward questions - you were definitely not prepared for them whatsoever.

“Why are you the only one asking questions?”

“I don’t know,” Jungsu turns his gaze away from you again, letting the corners of his lips to slide up discreetly, “if there’s anything you want to ask me, go ahead.”

You hesitate for a moment. There are multiple things you’d like to know the answers of, but what if you don’t ask correctly and he gets the wrong impression?

Unsure if it’s the fact he’s not facing you or if it’s because it’s past midnight, your heart feels calm, allowing you to just go for it.

“Are you seeing or talking to someone right now?” You carefully focus on him as you don’t want to miss out on his next expression.

He barely makes one though.

“Nope,” he replies, keeping his eyes on the scene as he adds: “but there’s a girl I find pretty cute, I think.”

After you remain silent for a short moment, only releasing a quiet oh of surprise, Jungsu guides his vision to you and keeps it there.

“So you like funny guys, but humour and communicative skills is not everything.” His figure droops down a bit, letting him rest his head back comfortably against the couch. “What else are you looking for in a guy?”

“Well…” you sigh, as if though there’s an entire detailed list of qualities in your mind; it makes the boy snicker. “I want him to be a gentleman. Trustworthy and kind. I need to know I can tell him anything and I want to be the only girl he thinks about.” You give him one wary look, just in case. It’s clear he’s heeding your words that only speed up as you ramble. “I also like when they take care of their bodies… I like broad shoulders and nice arms. Pretty lips too.”

“Mmm,” Jungsu nods while letting all of that sink in, “well, they can’t work for pretty lips at the gym, you know?”

“I know, I just added that in.” A grin appears on your face as you lean against the back of the couch with one shoulder, but soon after it disappears. “My friends always tell me I need to lower my standards, do you think that’s true?”

“I don’t really think you have high standards to begin with.” Jungsu examines your expression carefully since your tone does not come out as lighthearted as it was a moment ago. He’s aware you’re referring to something more serious that must be bothering you. “That’s exactly how a guy should treat you. If he doesn’t, then you need to cut him off.”

You smile as a sign of appreciation, feeling your heart beating with joy too.

“We’ve had a similar conversation before, do you remember?”

“We have?”

Jungsu’s face scrunches a bit as he goes down memory lane, but you already have the exact moment replaying in your head, as if it was yesterday. Severance is now forgotten, but still going in low volume.

“Yeah, after we graduated.” The images of the two of you in his room warm your heart as you cast your mind back to that sunny afternoon. “We were at your house and you were bragging about the new camera your parents had just bought you to get you excited for college.”

“I wasn’t—”

“Just a litttle bit.” You quickly dismiss his denial and Jungsu laughs without saying anything more so you can continue. “We were imagining how our first boyfriend and girlfriend would be like. We were visualising their appearance, wondering how and where we would meet them and all.”

You can tell Jungsu begins to recall the event once you see him cover his face with both hands. His muffled groan of embarrassment amuses you a lot - why is he being flustered all of a sudden?

“Yeah, yeah, we did…” He mumbles in his palms before leaning back again. He seems to be lost in thought for a moment. “My first girlfriend wasn’t anything like that by the way.”

“My first boyfriend was anything but that,” you declare right after him as you burst laughing at the same time.

You grin at each other, feeling a sense of comfort from the mutual understanding.

The silence you find yourselves in again isn’t perplexing as it gives the two of you a chance to dive into more shared memories that are suddenly scattered in your minds. You reflect on differents parts of them without paying attention to the gaps that eventually start to multiply as the months pass by.

“We were so curious then,” Jungsu speaks up first; his voice drops lower as he muses, “about relationships, drinking, sex…”

Undeniably, the last word catches you off guard. You don’t comment right away, because you start to ponder about the same with cheeks tinged with blush.

“We couldn’t wait to see what all those experiences are going to feel like.”

“Yeah, that’s how we were.” You agree, keeping your fingers busy with the hem of your shorts.

“Y/N…”

As you were staring down at your lap, your eyes snap back at the sound of your name and you meet Jungsu’s gaze; it seems to shine more softly now, or that’s just the nostalgia in your chest.

“I think you’re beautiful,” he says with voice laced in something bittersweet, “and I really think you deserve more than just a funny guy.”

You feel something around you shift and you’re unsure of how to handle it just yet. It’s like whatever was building up in the air during your conversation is now swirling, making you giddy and unsteady.

You thank him, acknowledging how weak your voice is once it leaves your mouth, but you can’t do anything about it.

Neither of you breaks eye contact - is it because neither of you is bold enough to do it first or because neither of you wants to put an end to it in the first place? You can’t tell.

Jungsu’s eyes make the first movement in order to peek at your parted lips and just as quickly return to your fluttering lashes.

“I mean it,” he whispers, sliding his hand your way.

The tips of his fingers are centimeters away from your knee, resting on the cushion; one small move and you will feel their touch, but they remain still and courteous.

As your body is tempted to get closer, your heart starts to thump faster - not to warn you or stop you from the decision you’re about to make, but to remind you of how much exactly you want it.

You want him. It’s a scary thought, but perhaps, every love seems scary when it arises from friendship.

It all happens in a matter of two seconds - you cut the distance, Jungsu’s gentle hand moves on your thigh and you kiss him.

If a moment ago you were feeling dazed, then now, as your mouths get in contact for the first time ever, you’re feeling absolutely under the influence. You’re feeling intoxicated by the softness of his lips; how they move like they’ve got yours memorised already, as if he was using that moment of silence to study them perfectly.

In a way his lips feel… familiar, as ridiculous it may sound, but the spark they bring you is strong nevertheless.

Until you back away in panick from your impulsive actions. Your heart is threatening to burst out.

“Oh God, I’m so sorry—“

“Come here,” Jungsu says under his breath and pulls you over his lap.

What follows after you straddle him doesn’t come close to the mellow kiss from earlier.

It looks and feels times more intense as Jungsu’s fingers grip on your waist beneath the fabric of your loose shirt. The way they explore anywhere they can reach, causing every spot they glide against to heat up, provokes the rush to rise in your tummy.

Your tongues roll against one another after you allow him to separate your lips; the delightful dance turns into a french kiss that you would’ve never imagine having with him one day.

Jungsu’s lips slowly detach, sighing as he finds out you’re not wearing any bra underneath. His hands cautiously retrieve to your hips, making you wonder what could be going through his head right now.

Is his mind calm? Or is it jittery like his heart that’s racing… you can feel it as you keep your hands on his chest.

“Should we…”

“Keep going?” He finishes your question after glancing at you. “Only if that’s what you want.”

You stop biting your lip and chuckle silently at his words. You thought what you want is pretty obvious and you find his wariness sweet.

“I want it.” You confess; slowly, so each letter sinks in his brain as you lean forward only to provoke him to kiss you deeply once more.

That’s when you feel a sudden movement beneath you - a quick twitch, right between your legs that has you smiling coyly against his flushed lips.

“I don’t have any condoms in me.” He realises quietly while staying close to your mouth, swiping your bottom lip gently with his thumb. It’s like he cannot get enough of their plushness, their texture and taste.

When you lock eyes it becomes clear you’re thinking of the same thing.

“We can still go upstairs though.” The same finger that was tracing the shape of your lips now presses against your shorts, rubbing tenderly up and down exactly where you feel the irresistible heat looming from. The pleasure is barely there, and yet, it still makes you hold your breath. “I can make you feel nice in different ways... Unless you prefer to wait.”

He’s not saying this to tease you or to try to be flirtatious; you can see it in the genuine way he looks at you. Jungsu has never been like the rest.

Truthfully, like is a weak choice of word for what you feel about him.

You shake head right before you roll your hips against him, eager to feel more. You don’t want to wait; you can’t.

“Let’s go.”

Jungsu reaches behind you and shuts his laptop.

You can’t tell how many minutes you spend in your bed just kissing; laying beneath him like this - with legs intertwined and lips going numb against each other - has turned time into something nonexistent. And his scent, familiar and so comforting, has put you in some sort of trance that you don’t want to escape from.

What has Jungsu leaving your mouth is his hand that ghosts over one of your breasts; the subtle feeling of your nipple poking through the fabric tempts him into giving it a light squeeze. Your figure starts reacting excitedly as he continues to caress it under the blouse, occasionally circling your nipple with his thumb.

Those cute responses against his hovering body make him move lower so he can scatter kisses on other places too. He wants to taste as much of you as possible.

Blissful sighs slip from your tongue as Jungsu’s puffy lips press against many different parts of your skin; his hands touch wherever his mouth can’t reach. The subtle way the tip of his tongue starts teasing the area between your bellybutton and the hem of your shorts causes your spine to bend from pleasant shockwaves.

His hands remain on your hips, but they seem to hesitate to continue when your eyes meet.

“I want to know you’re not going to regret this.”

You move one hand to his face that’s contorted with a mixture of emotions - one you’re perfectly familiar with the meaning of.

“I’m not, I promise.” You utter as your fingers finally get lost in his hair. “Can you say the same?”

“My only regret is that I didn’t do this sooner,” he admits, breathing out a soft sigh afterwards that almost turns into a flustered chuckle. “And,” he takes a pause to what seems like an attempt to gather his thoughts, “that I didn’t reach out as much as I wanted to.”

“That’s on both of us, Jungsu.”

The decorative lights effortlessly shine onto his face, warm white light that makes it look even softer as he lets himself rest in your palm.

Regret is the last thing you will feel, even if this is just a one time thing.

Soon enough, his hands proceed. You’re out of your sleeping shorts and Jungsu’s fingers are doing that same motion from earlier, but now it feels even better as they move up and down against your underwear.

Suddenly they stop to apply some pressure in one particular spot - where he noticed a dark wet patch forming.

“Mmm—“ you bite your lip, provoking his gaze to shift back to your face. “You can remove one piece of clothing too.”

He mumbles that’s fair and grins at your smile of approval as he throws his shirt away. You didn’t expect to be so effected by the view, but you are; seeing his fit chest bare makes your heart quicken and now the way his arm flexes as he moves your panties to the side to touch you without any barriers is suddenly even more noticeable than before.

“So wet,” he mutters as if he’s in awe at the sight below, “you’re gorgeous.”

The compliment warms up your cheeks as you moan desperately at the first real touch.

He slides his fingers through your folds so slow and gently that you’re amazed how a delicate touch like that can have such a strong impact everywhere on your body.

From your entrance up to your clit, Jungsu swipes the tips of his two fingers and stares at the string of arousal that sticks to them once he pulls away.

His spare hand tugs your panties more while the other returns to where you’re dripping.

“Is it okay like this?” He asks in a whisper, watching your mouth open for a silent moan; his middle finger enters you with ease and for a second your breathing stops. “Yeah, feels nice?”

You nod delighted before resting your head back on the pillow, cherishing the warmth that’s building and electrifying your core.

You can’t see it, but Jungsu’s eyes sparkle as you transition into a new blissful state with each gliding through your tight walls.

“I love it,” you breathe out excitedly, not able to ignore the sounds that come with each move of his hand; especially once he adds another finger so he can make you feel even better by thrusting deeper into you. “Fuck—“

Everything doubles now that it feels more full, more fast paced and intense. His fingers feel perfect for this - firm and just the right subtle amount of rough. They move with dominance that they aren't trying to force, but still can be felt in his touch.

“You can cum for me, sweetheart,” he says under his breath while maintaining the quick motions targeting the desired angle. “Don’t hold back, baby.”

Every time you mewl his name your quiet voice shakes as he chases your peak.

The trembling chanting makes Jungsu’s skin run hot - at the back of his neck and the sides of his face that’s a little bit scrunched from concentration, from not allowing himself to slow down. It also teases his erection with how arousing it sounds, making it twitch inside his sweatpants.

Not long after, his free hand moves to your clit to stimulate you even further by circling around, and the knot of pressure inside you snaps.

The squelching noise, so blissful to Jungsu’s ears, fades in the small room as he eases up with his arched fingers, letting only your heavy breathing to fill the silence now.

Your eyes are glossy when they find his in the warm fairylights, but you’re not exactly sure what to say. As if he knew, Jungsu drops down, prepping himself on his hands and kissess you to let you know it’s okay.

Your hands go to his still hips, but yours are far from calm, and for the first time he fails to swallow a groan.

“Y/N—“ he exhales softly into your lips, unconsciously responding by grinding between your open legs. It doesn’t help that your hands are encouraging him to thrust again and again. “Fuck, feels so good…”

“I want to touch you,” you mutter not even having a specific idea in mind - you want to touch him everywhere all at once if it’s possible. Your fingers sneak beneath the waistband of his sweats, pleading by scratching his skin. It’s all you can do with how much you love the sensation from his length rubbing against you through the fabric, making more rush of arousal course through your veins. “Jungsu, please…”

“I’m gonna make you feel amazing first chance I get.” He speaks in the crook of your neck before backing off.

Your glowing doll eyes speak for themselves.

The enthralling effects of his words that dripped with honey-like sweetness despite the dirty context only grow after you earn the view you pleaded for.

Jungsu tugs down the clothing, stained with your arousal at the crotch area, and then you see it - flushed from the friction and oozing from desire as it bounces up. The size alone has your eyes almost shutting down from all the images of you taking it inch by inch flooding your mind.

If you focus enough, you can feel the strech.

“What are you thinking about?” Jungsu’s lips turn slightly as he takes a hold of his base, lowering his tip to your folds. The way he drags it down your slick lets you know that he’s aware of exactly what’s troubling your head.

“It will feel so nice,” you whine as his warm tip presses against your leaky entrance, but not enough to enter.

Jungsu repeats the same thing to hear the squelching sound one more time. It’s begging him to push deeper, but he resists and forces his length up your folds instead, smearing the glistening essence.

“You’re gonna take me so well, sweetheart, I’m sure of it.” His gaze observes the effortless way your slippery lips have his length gliding up and down. As his fingers stay around the base his aroused tip rubs your clit with each next move which has you humming erotically. “Mm— It will fit perfectly inside you…”

You bite your lip as your mind creates vivid images, one after another, based on Jungsu’s provocative words. His sensual tone of voice and his cock moving along your slickness work effectively in harmony, forming new undeniable rush in your core.

Two light slaps by the head of his dick force your eyes open and you see Jungsu letting a string of saliva fall into his palm to make his strokes smoother.

You know he smacked your clit with his tip without meaning anything by it, simply to hear the lewd sound and feel a small thrill. However, the excitement you get from that quick act is much bigger, and after Jungsu speeds up his fist up and down, you sit up, placing fingers on your sweet spot to continue the arousal he awakened.

Your breaths blend together as you sit in front of each other… along with the little airy sounds slipping into the air that’s growing thicker from the intimate scene.

In the meantime, your eyes drop to his busy hand to study the way it moves. You want to see how he likes to be touched; what pace does he enjoy, how much is his fist tightening. Though the up and down motions are quickening, you notice his fingers still seem gentle on his erection like he’s not doubling the pressure only the rhythm.

Soaking up this sight and the way his toned stomach reacts to the sensation turns you on immensely, but then your chin gets guided up and your attention is dragged away.

Jungsu doesn’t comment on your obvious and shameless staring. The only thing he does is take in your delighted twitching features and get off on their beauty.

“Keep going,” you encourage him quietly as your free hand cautiously reaches out to cup his balls.

While maintaining the eye contact and the steady circles on your clit, you let your fingers explore gently for a moment, then you make them squeeze which breaks Jungsu’s breathing.

The bold act of yours takes him aback, but the delight that shoots through him makes the surprise last only a second.

You squeeze again simultaneously mewling from your own bubbling emotions, and earn the first clear moan from him. It sounds exhilarating, but too short. Perhaps, you could’ve gotten more out of him if his lips didn’t gravitate towards yours for an open mouthed kiss.

This makes Jungsu let go of his cock and cup your face as the moment intensifies.

You, on the other hand, use the opportunity to finally touch him properly.

Gliding your fingertips from his ballsack up to his base, Jungsu feels the lingering effects from the delicate caressing right away. Once you wrap your fingers around him and apply some pressure his lips stop moving - he cannot help, but squeeze his eyes tightly and invite a hitched breath into your mouth as a wave of euphoria passes through his veins.

Encouraged by his breathing that’s catching up and his head resting back, the nerves you were holding in your stomach completely disappear, and your hand continues twirling - more freely and with more ease and confidence.

He seems fully relaxed and succumbed to the pleasure you bring him, and you can’t stop gushing over how grateful you are to be in this position.

You catch his hands form two fists around the bedsheets as you do your best to keep up the nice rhythm that continues to have more and more effects on him.

“Can you cum for me like this?”

Jungsu opens his eyes; he can’t tell whether your innocent tone or the way you rub yourself as he kneels between your legs is what brings him dizziness.

He wets his lips before swallowing.

“Yeah, but… I want to make you feel good one more time first.” He wants to emphasise his wish by making his voice firm, but it drips from his tongue breathless, almost fading away completely at the last word.

The sudden delay in the next twirling of your wrist has his jaw slacking; especially when you stop to squeeze at the top, flicking your thumb over his slit.

The hand between your own thighs slows down as you speak too.

“It’s okay, I’m very close anyways,” you give him a coy smile as he stares at you weakly with hooded eyes. “You can just relax now and keep looking at me…” you resume the stimulation on your clit and sigh at the feeling before finishing your thought: “and cum in my hand whenever you’re ready.”

Jungsu’s stomach flips at the sound of your sudden, but incredibly soft domineer; it continues to swirl from pleasure as you bring back the familiar pace around his girth. His gaze is fixated upon your hands - one dancing up and down his slick member, the other toying with your sensitive clit, slowly, so the one around his cock can go faster, but the mellow touching only captivates him more.

“Fuck, Y/N—“ Jungsu chokes just when the arousal that’s burning low in your tummy rises like a wild fire. “You’re doing perfect.”

You whine right after him as the knot pulses harder with each rub, making it a challenge for you to keep stroking him smoothly as you used to.

Your technique eventually turns sloppy and unsteady; most likely causing the rush in his body to weaken just when it leaps up.

“Fuck,” Jungsu cusses again, this time in a thinner pitch, an alluring breathy sound, indicating he’s getting closer just like you. “Like that, yeah—” As his head drops low in sudden silence, his one hand goes over your weakened fist. In order to guide it in the speed that’s going to push him over the edge, he needs to put in some strength, so he squeezes around your fingers.

Both of you are now speechless, looking narrowly at the view of your laps and enhancing the mutual pleasure. The growing excitement turns into ragged short breaths that crawl out of your throats as you do everything you can in order to keep your composure.

“Doing so good for me…” Jungsu’s hand is sweating on top of yours, gripping and forcing the lewd motions of your fist, top to bottom, until it reaches the end of the rush steadily.

Your own sensational high hits you like a wave as you watch his thick arousal seep out of him. The first rope shoots onto his tense stomach while the rest trickles down your fingers that still hold onto his member. It twiches once or twice in your palm, before he removes his stained hand away, and you do the same.

“Thank you,” Jungsu’s eyes flicker at you as the corners of his mouth twitch. He’s bemused by what just happened and you are too; you can only chuckle along. “You’re a good girl.”

The knuckles of his clean hand run down your cheek, but you feel your skin getting tingly everywhere.

──── ❆ ────

The next morning, 26th of December, is the day Jungsu and his parents are leaving, because they’re visiting close relatives before his winter break ends. You’re both drinking tea and scrolling through social media, chatting about mutual friends and who’s up to what.

There’s definitely something different in the way you speak to each other; it would be weird if there isn’t. You’re not sure what to think of it still, because you haven’t had the chance to talk about it yet, but you try not to let yourself fall into heavy overthinking mode and ruin your last hours together.

Hesitating if you should open a loose discussion about last night, now, that you’ve been sitting in silence for over two minutes, you look up from your phone just to see your mother walk in.

You catch a glimpse of the pie recipe she always makes this time of the year in her hand, but there’s slight worry on her face. Turns out, she forgot to buy two of the ingredients she needs and now she’s stressed out about it.

You always have this pie before Jungsu and his parents leave.

“I’ll go get them.” Jungsu offers already standing on his feet.

“Are you sure? It’s snowing outside.” Your mom says, glancing through the window. “I can just make something else.”

“That’s not an issue, I got my drivers license this summer.” He takes his parent’s keys, and looks over at you with a discreet grin. “Wanna join me?”

Jungsu insists on holding the bag with the ingredients you bought for your mother’s recipe despite being the one not wearing gloves. You forgot to put on yours before you leave the house and he asked you to take his pair or apparently you weren’t leaving the car.

Now, thanks to him your hands are warm, and you enjoy the light snowfall even more as you walk side by side.

“Hey, uhm” Jungsu speaks up, trying to keep his tone casual, “I was wondering something this morning.”

You turn to him as neither of you hurries to reach the parking lot just yet.

He shoots you a quick glance then goes back to staring at the deserted street in front of you.

“I’m going to be celebrating New Year’s with my roommate and some other friends from college. It’s gonna be fun, and I was wondering if you don’t have plans already of course…” He can feel your gaze on his cold face, but he can’t make himself respond to it. Not when he hasn’t gotten a reply to his offer. When was the last time he was feeling nervous because of you? Was there ever a time like that till now? “I can come pick you up and we can celebrate together. My roommate won’t mind it if I steal his car for a few hours.”

“What’s his name?” You look down at the white pavement with a smile unable to leave your face.

“Who’s— Oh!” Jungsu finally takes a peek in your direction, a bit flustered. “Seungmin. He’s a really nice guy, just a year younger than me.”

“Are you sure he’s really not going to mind it if you take his car twice? My classes start on the same day as yours and I’ll need a ride home.”

“Positive.” You both quit walking to look at each other. “I already asked.”

“Last night you mentioned there’s a girl you find cute.” Your head leans to the side as you inspect the boy’s expressions. His eyes look down at his feet once he registers your words; there’s definitely amusement inside them though. “Is she going to be there?”

“I don’t know,” Jungsu’s grin widens at the fact you remember this. The next moment, he glances back up at you. “I’m waiting for her to give me an answer right now.”

Few seconds pass as you try to collect yourself. He meant you.

“So are you going to be there?” He gives you an eyebrow raise. “With me?”

You’re aware your glowing smile is already enough of an answer, but you still nod at him and say:

“Yes, I’ll be there with you.”

You were too immersed into your conversation to notice earlier that Jungsu has been driving in a totally different direction.

“Wait, where are we?” You ask as the car stops in front of a nice house covered in snow just like the rest on the street.

You’ve never seen it before.

“I thought we could use some privacy.” He turns to you, not yet sure how you’d react to his idea. When he catches your lips turning into a coy, but definitely approving expression, he feels a wave of relief. “Just for like an hour though or it will get suspicious.”

Jungsu gives you a quick tour around their new family home and after you’re inside his bedroom things escalate surprisingly quickly; or not so surprisingly considering what went down last night between you.

The high still lingers in both of your bodies as you crash on his bed.

He pins your hands above your head and your cold noses touch as your kiss deepens before you even have time to really comprehend this is really about to happen.

You are going to have sex with him.

You’re a moment away from feeling him in the most personal, intimate way possible as you watch him rip off the package of the condom with his teeth.

“When did you get these?” You wonder, because you didn’t see him grabbing condoms from anywhere while you were out shopping.

“I have my ways,” he grins, lowering his gaze at his crotch while standing on his feet next to the bed.

You’re sat naked at the centre and follow his hands - how one of them makes few strokes around his erection before the other wraps it up with protection. Then, a moment later how they spread your legs as if he’s scared not to break you.

He pulls you down slightly and adjusts himself between your thighs, breathing against your heat.

The butterflies in your tummy go wild with anticipation and excitement at the attractive view.

His presence there alone doubles the warmth into your core before his lips have even gotten in contact with your pussy. Once they do, your hips cannot resist the urge to move in the rhythm of his lapping tongue; wanting to match its sensual motions and earn more from the heady sensation it brings you.

Your fingers go into Jungsu’s hair the moment the arousal enhances to the point it makes your hands search for something to clench at. As your moans elevate as well, your hips keep moving against his gentle devouring mouth until his hands press you down so he can invite himself further into you with no interruptions.

“Oh, fuck!” You moan towards the ceiling, thrilled by the way he twirls the tip of his tongue around your clit before sucking on it some more. “Jungsu, it feels amazing…”

Once he detaches, he pushes his index finger through your entrance, then his middle one and tenderly glides them back and forth to really make sure you’re aroused enough.

“You taste so sweet,” he comments, staring down at your intimate lips, lustrous from his mouth and the essence his fingertips bring out of you only to spread it up to your clit.

He gives you one last open mouthed kiss which makes you whimper desperately.

“Tell me if it hurts, okay?” He looks you in the eyes after he hovers over you; holding himself up on one hand so the other can push the first inch of his member through your walls.

You let out a shaky sound and your nails sink into his shoulders. You breathe in, trying to relax as you haven’t been intimate with anyone in a while. It feels a bit painful because of that and his big size struggling to enter, but at the same time it also feels soul-stirring - because it’s him you are giving yourself to.

“You’ll need to loosen up some more for me, baby.” He whispers softly in your lips and you can almost taste the tension. “Can you do that for me?” The head of his cock retrieves before bumping into your small entrance again.

You nod while grasping onto his frame, and as you exhale with eyes closed shut, a gradual warm pain shoots through you as Jungsu forces a bit more of his length.

“I can stop anytime,” he reminds you while placing fingers onto your clit to comfort you with slow circles. The small portion of his cock your gummy walls are gripping on barely moves any further as he wants to give you time to adjust.

“No,” you utter without opening your eyes, “don’t, please.” Your focus is all on the big stinging stretch and you sound distracted and woozy.

Your walls, though hesitantly, start to accept some of his thickness as he cautiously rocks back and forth. At the same time, little by little you get familiar with how staggering it is to be so full.

“You already feel so good.” Jungsu’s low voice tickles your neck as he’s fully immersed in the exact same sensation as you. The tightness stimulates him more and more during the small pushes back and forth; they make you whimper every time and the sounds have such strong impact on his arousal that he starts to worry not to insert himself all the way by accident and hurt you.

All of a sudden, he pulls out causing you to gasp softly at the sudden emptiness.

Your glossy gaze focuses on him questionably until you realise he’s spreading your legs wider to lick you up again.

Keeping them open and still, he forces his tongue into your entrance and humms quietly every time it throbs, provoked by his movements. The pleasure he gains from your addictive taste has him squeezing your thighs and working his mouth in a way that makes the buzzing delight speedily prevail over the former ache.

“Jungsu, I’m…” you breathe out overwhelmed by the thorough gliding against your folds. “I’m close—“

He went back to eating you out with the intention to ease out the uncomfortable soreness he caused you, but here you are… a short moment before an intense climax washes over you as he presses against your legs so they don’t close around his head.

Your convulsing under his tongue has his arms holding onto you tightly, and as you calm down from the high, Jungsu’s lips suck your stimulated clit once or twice causing you to twitch even more.

“Good girl.” A gentle whisper caresses the skin of your inner thigh before he moves on his knees. “Now you’ll take me easier, right baby?”

This time instead of doing small bumps at your entrance Jungsu slides half of his length through a single slow push that has you hissing at the warmth it incites - a mix between pleasures with just a hint of the stinging ache from earlier.

You’ve never felt anything like it before.

Analysing your beautifully twitching face Jungsu decides to pick up a quicker pace at once. His heart rate along with his adrenaline rush increases by the new sound of your clear moans of rapture - all of them a reaction to the way he fills you up.

“Better, baby?” His eyes alternate between your open mouth and the appealing view where your bodies connect; where you’re hypnotising him by looking so stuffed and small and keeping him in trance with how you squelch for him. “So pretty…”

“Yeah,” you answer as your lips tremble from the rising pleasure, “so much better, k-keep going.”

“I knew you’d take me well,” Jungsu says as his own voice starts to drop softly. His hooded eyes blink weakly till they shut entirely as he inserts himself fully into you. His sticky fingers leave his base and sink into your thigh the moment you let out a high pitched whine at the way his tip hits your deepest spot. “Shit— you feel so good around me, baby.”

As you feel mazed and disoriented by the rush, your hand goes over your mouth after another mewl escapes your throat. It sounds too loud, but your self-control slips away the more Jungsu speeds up.

“You don’t need to keep quiet here, sweetheart.” The sudden action makes the boy chuckle as he holds your thighs loosely over his arms. The sheer look of desperation that’s contorting your face tempts him to drop closer. As he does so, he notices your fingers hesitate to uncover your lips completely. “Don’t, baby,” he grunts and even the intense rush can’t stop his voice from sounding sensual and comforting. “I want to hear the pretty sounds you make for me.”

His body weight now presses comfortably against you and you’re almost sure the heat it radiates while his hips slow down for a moment, makes your arousal grow, throb and trickle down on the bedsheets.

“So,” you breathe out in bliss as your fingers move away with trembling motions, “s-so deep…” Your mouth remains open as your head lolls back. You’re amazed by how it’s possible for him to stimulate such deep points inside you; once that have been unfamiliar to you until now.

“Yeah?” Jungsu’s lips move at your ear, producing intense breaths like a tune. “And you’re so tight, pretty girl… you feel perfect for me.”

A lazy kiss on the side of your jawline makes you flutter inside as your hands glide around his broad shoulders. The muscles tense under your touch as eventually Jungsu strengthens the pace again.

Your vision gradually starts to blur, but you still notice the sweat pooling on his forehead; how his teeth keep his lip tucked harshly as the thrusting of his hips turns into a steady slamming that fills the bedroom with lewd noises.

“Jungsu, I—“ your nails dig into his warm skin; surely promising marks, but you can’t stop them from dragging against his back as he hits exactly where it feels best. “Right there, yea—“

“There?” Jungsu’s eyes open, and they open at the perfect timing - to see how yours roll back from pleasure. A sight that immediately provokes him to keep doing what he’s doing, but better.

“Fuck! Yes—“ Your moans keep slipping in the rhythm of his strong thrusts strictly fixated upon the desired angle. “Harder, ple—“

Your pleading is suddenly cut off by your mind shutting down and your throat choking on your own breath.

It wasn’t necessary for you to beg, because Jungsu already knew more was what you needed. Each sound of yours was signaling to him that you’re getting closer, that you need just a little bit more for the rush to come and bring you sweet relief. Even your desperate grasping at his shoulders was already speaking enough to him.

“You’re even prettier when you cum around me, princess.” He murmurs out of breath with lips gently pecking your warm forehead. They cannot wait long enough for your panting to slow down though, and they move to kiss you insistently until you inevitably back away to breathe.

It happens with a small delay, because it takes you some time to compose yourself from the passionate kiss, but the corner of your mouth tugs shyly as a response to his words; to the nickname attached at the end.

After spending a moment inside your welcoming heat, Jungsu eventually pulls out with a sigh, and your hands let go.

Once he removes the condom to jerk off, your attention fixates upon the most compelling facial expression you’ve ever seen. His flushed face is painted by relish, but also by yearning, especially when the climax gains complete control over him and his head drops low, shifting your focus.

Warm and thick, his arousal lands all over your bare tummy, making you gasp quietly.

When he returns with a towel to clean you up before laying down beside you, you come to realise that it almost feels like summer from the snuggly atmosphere around the two of you; it’s perfectly formed by the mutual aftermath that you experience at the same time as you gaze into each other’s eyes, and nicely balanced by the soft glow of sunlight that’s attempting fo filter through the curtains.

And all of this, as Jungsu’s fingertips draw soft patterns on your back.

Till this current moment, your entire skin was on fire. Now, the feeling of those strong flames has faded, leaving a single lingering warmth that’s not completely new to you; simply because it’s been slowly growing throughout the years of your friendship… warmth, that feels reasuring.

It feels like love.

! please do not repost, copy or translate my works

! please keep in mind that english is not my first language. i apologise for any mistakes i’ve might missed

♡ taglist: @gclhn ; @gaonashi ; @xhfics

#joocomics.xdh #joocomics.fics #— long story short #joocomics: holiday special 2024 #xdinary heroes smut #jungsu smut #jungsu x reader #xdinary heroes x reader #xdh x reader

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gremlinmodetweeker · 3 months ago

Text

Dinner Time

I think Frankenstein!König makes for some of the silliest stories. I know this is really stupid, but genuinely I cracked myself up with this a few times. I really love writing this au. It's just so stupid.

Tws:

Wordcount: 1.3K

Art from This Post

Rest of the Story Below the Cut

Dinner Time

A few hours passed, and once your mother had been stabilized you’d managed to sit everyone around the dining room table to talk about König’s new appearance.

Your mother kept glancing at König like he’d suddenly lunge over and try to eat her brain, but your father had come around decently well.

“Did you catch the football game last week?” your father asked as he cut into his roast beef, “pretty good one.”

“I haven’t been keeping up,” König admitted.

“No?” your father frowned, “then what’ve you been doing?”

“Just figuring out my limits, really,” König said, “like how far I can bend over or how much I can lift before I feel like I'll tear a stitch."

"Must feel pretty strange," your dad muttered.

"Sometimes," König agreed, "it’s basically like I woke up from a nap. Something happened, but I can’t remember it well enough to say. All I know is that I’m here now.”

“Do you remember the crash?”

Your mother nudged your father, “Harold, please!”

“This is a once in a lifetime opportunity to ask!”

König cleared his throat, “I remember it, yes. A bit too well. But I’m here now, and that’s what matters.”

Your father nodded approvingly while your mother stared at him blankly.

“Have you told anyone else about König?” your father asked you.

“No,” you admitted, “I’ve been meaning to go back to my university to report my findings, but I haven’t gotten around to writing a good report.”

Your mother turned to König slowly, “So you haven’t told your parents?”

“Not yet,” König said, “I’m hoping we can set something up next weekend.”

“Do you… Do you want us to give them the news?” your mother asked tentatively.

“No, thank you though. I’m fairly certain it would be best if we tell them ourselves,” König said and nudged you, “right?”

“I’ve been meaning to call your mom about it actually,” you said, “I think they’ll take it well though.”

“Are you sure? My mother’s a devout catholic,” König said.

“But doesn’t she love you?” you pointed out.

“More than God?” König hummed, “I’m not so sure about that.”

Your father cut in, “Do you guys have a plan or something?”

“Not really,” you admitted, “we just sorta thought it would go a bit like today.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” your mother said frigidly.

You frowned as you cut into the beef. Taking a bite, you hummed.

“You did a great job cooking tonight,” you said to König.

“It was my mother’s old recipe,” he replied, “it’s pretty easy actually. It just takes a couple of days to marinate.”

“You made this König?” your father marvelled as she cut another piece, “I’m impressed. I honestly thought you didn’t like cooking.”

“I don’t like it, but I can cook well,” König explained, “it’s easier if your daughter does it for me.”

“You should cook more often,” your father grunted, “I like this. Linda, you should get the recipe from him.”

“Are you saying you don’t like my roast!?” she exclaimed.

“I’m saying it’s dry,” your father said, “this is really something else.”

Your mother picked at her plate bitterly.

“It’s not dry,” she muttered, “I baste it every fifty minutes.”

You nudged König, “So, maybe you can tell them about what you’ve been doing lately?”

“Mostly cleaning,” König sighed, “I don’t have much to do around here. There’s a bunch of DIY projects, but I can’t even go out to the hardware store.”

“We’re not trusting him in public yet,” you explained.

Your mother glanced again at the hood over König’s face.

“It looks weird, but what’s under is worse,” he explained.

Your mother paled and went back to her meal with a renewed interest.

“If you want some tools I can lend them to you,” your father offered, “you can come over any time to pick them up.”

“I’d like that actually,” König said eagerly, “it’s been hard to get used to living in this dump.”

“Dump?” you scoffed, “I got this for a good deal! We don’t even need to pay rent anymore!”

“The guest bedroom’s ceiling is nearly caving in. It’s a dump.”

“Nothing that can’t be fixed up, with some plaster,” your father chirped.

“König, are you really in a state to be able to use power tools?” your mother asked, “I mean, your body is just… Well… You’re basically a zombie-”

You watched as both your father and König gingerly put down their cutlery.

“Linda what the hell is wrong with you?” your father hissed, “you can’t just say that! He’s a human being!”

“He’s an undead freak!” your mother snapped back, “look at his hands! How’s he even able to hold his body together?"

“He’ll be fine!”

“Acutally,” König cut in, “the wounds have been healing. Also, I’m not actually undead, I’m-”

Your mother slammed her hands on the table, “This is insane! I can’t believe we’re doing this. You!” she pointed at you, “you’re a freak! I can’t believe I raised you! This isn’t like you, is it?”

“Like what?” you raised an eyebrow.

“Like… Like this!” she squawked, “you stole his body from the morgue!”

“I brought him back to life!” you snapped back.

“What was even in the coffin? Oh God, what was in the coffin!?”

“Pork,” you replied, “I got a good deal at Costco.”

Your father’s eye twitched, “Are you telling me I paid five thousand dollars to bury a pig?”

“Five thousand eight hundred, actually. But wait wait wait, hold on, before you say anything," you slowly rose your hands, "I did bring König back to life.”

König wrapped an arm around you, “And I can’t thank you enough.”

Your mother gesticulated at you, alternating between staring at you and your father.

“Harold, please tell me you’re seeing what I’m seeing!”

“I’m seeing my son in law tell my daughter she did a good job,” your father replied, “I'm proud of her. But seriously," he glared at you, "I paid a lot of money for that funeral.”

“I can pay you back,” you offered, “KorTac sent a pretty good cheque when König died.”

“I want it by the end of the week.”

“Done.”

“Harold please! This is an abomination! I can’t believe you’re just sitting there like nothing's wrong!”

“And I can’t believe your sister thinks she can talk about my whisky collection, but here we are,” your father sipped his wine, “is this a Merlot? It’s good.”

“Please,” your mother pleaded with you, “please tell me you haven’t… You haven’t done…”

“We haven’t,” you assured her, “I’m not a necrophile, Mom.”

Your mother slumped back in her seat with a cry.

“Linda, please, you’re making a scene,” your father sighed, “just enjoy the food. It’s good!”

“My daughter is a grave robber and a… a…”

“A scientist?” you offered.

“A criminal!” she finished.

“Okay, look, what I did was unethical-”

“How many laws did you break to do this!?”

“But I brought König back to life. Mom, if I can replicate this, I could make millions,” you said slowly, “you know how you always want that winter vacation home? You could have that.”

Your mother paused. She glanced between you and König for a moment.

“How would you replicate the studies?”

“Probably with monkies,” you shrugged, “I’m pretty sure my school would be willing to fund it. I mean, I’ve done it before, so…”

“You’re saying you could make millions?” your father cut you off.

“Well, yeah,” you said, “I sorta just cured death. If I can get this out, then I’d be the richest doctor in the world.”

Your father turned to your mother as she slowly sat back down and he put a hand on her knee.

“Look,” he said quietly, “you always wanted our little girl to make it big, right? Well here’s her chance!”

“But…” your mother bit back a sniffle, “I didn’t think it would be like this.”

“If this is what she wants to do, then why not support her?” your father said gently, “think about the cottage. Think about Paradise Lake.”

Your mother groaned as you exchanged a look with König.

“Are you sure this was a good idea?” König whispered into your ear.

“Just tell them what they want to hear,” you whispered back, “we’ll figure it out later.”

“Come on Linda, let’s just enjoy dinner, right?” your father helped your mother back to the table.

“Yes…” she nodded with wide eyes, “yes let’s just eat dinner.”

Konig Dump

Konig Alternate Universes

Frankenstein!Konig

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yeloenk · 11 months ago

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grins mischievously and rubs my hands together like a fly

i think human ink would frequently get bored of his hair color and hair style, trying out lots of different things!! he would definitely forget to maintain the dyejob tho so his white roots get REALLY bad until he dyes it again LMAO

while his dads aren't japanese (zephyr is french and idrk about undertop), they enjoy ink showing them japanese culture and participating in traditions and such :-)

ink, since they're immortal, decided he would dedicate his freetime into learning a bunch of different cultures and languages! this always tends to surprise others, since ink's short-term memory is absolute garbage. nobody understands how he remembers EVERYTHING about EVERY culture 😭😭🙏 you CANNOT keep a secret from this mofo no matter what language you speak

i think they would keep a digital diary with a camera! he records important events/moments so they can always look back at them, since he forgets a lot. his camera is mostly filled up with memories with their dads 🫶

ink LOVESS to bake!! he enjoys trying out different recepies and pastries from all around the world, but his favorites are macarons. he enjoys cooking as well, but moreso appreciates baking because of the exact instructions/measurements. (he is autistic like me and needs clear instructions or he will combust real and true trust me on this)

he has WAY too many hobbies for a normal person to keep up with. flute, baking, drawing, painting, writing, dancing, crocheting, knitting, embroidery, singing, gardening, you NAME it. any form of art, they know how to do and are surprisingly good at it

ink struggles with keeping up with his own very very busy mind. they have so many projects he wants to execute, but can only push out a few at a time. he hates having unfinished projects, and will stick with something until the end—for better or for worse.

he loves to paint over his vitiligo spots, or just painting on himself in general. they think it's fun & interesting to see how the spots shift and change on his skin, never growing bored of them.

-> his spots shift whenever code for a new AU is created, soo it's never really consistent LOL

he loves all forms of music, but holds a special place in his heart for songs that include lots of different classic instrumentals, like violin. he loves artists like fish in a birdcage and sparkbird (yes im projecting and you can't stop me)

he sometimes will drink paint out of the blue in front of others just for their reactions. they are priceless to ink and ALWAYS make him crack up so bad.. and then he has to explain that "nonono my paint specifically is okay for me to drink guys im not gonna die dw" ☠️☠️

ANNDDD i should probably stop there.. this post is so long LMFAO 😭😭 honestly most of these are just my normal ink headcanons, human or not, so take these as you will 🗣️🗣️

#utmv #undertale #undertale au #ink sans #inkblott #inkblottrambles #ink sans headcanons #human ink sans #hes so silly silly #i love ink if you couldnt tell #grins mischievously

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denwritesandcries · 1 year ago

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Hug me Tighter – S.C

Pairing: sam carpenter x fem!reader

Summary: You’re only trying to make your girlfriend take a nap with you, the fact that it’s in a hospital bed after one of the worst nights of your lives doesn't really matter.

Word count: 1,8k.

Content: post-scream VI, cursing, tooth-pudding fluff, mentions of violence, cuddling, pet names, long dialogues, REALLY soft gfs.

Note: Damn, this might be the sweetest and cheesy thing I’ve ever written. Could also be an AU, since Anika is alive, or just Scream, if they could actually be happy.

English is not my first language.

You realized that you were waking up at a terribly slow pace, as if everything was suddenly in slow motion and even the smallest movement took hours to run and every second was longer than the previous one. Your body feels heavy and comfortably warm, resting on perhaps the best bed in which you've ever slept. You blinked slowly, failing to keep your eyes open, every movement of your eyelids almost making you fall into unconsciousness again.

Your body shudders with the feeling of a long yawn crossing you and you turn your head to bury your face back in the location and go to sleep again, only to be surprised when you come across hot skin instead of what your brain thought was a really soft pillow. It is only then that you register a movement against your back, light and constant, almost as smooth as your own sleepy state, climbing and descending your spine and enveloping you even more in this security bubble almost supernaturally.

Another weight lies between your neck and your head, right at the point of your wrist and there's another heavier resting on the top of your head, although you're sure of the mess your hair should be right now. Your hands grope and instinctively grab a handful of familiar fabric beneath you, feeling the texture of a sweater you knew very well.

“Sam,” your hoarse voice breaks the silence.

You were tempted to let the darkness and the inviting fog of sleep consume you again as you relaxed and held another yawn, but your resting place vibrated with a low laugh.

“‘M sorry, baby. Did I wake you?”

“Nah,” you denied with a satisfied sigh, sinking against her body.

The chin on your head pulled away and the hand on your back stopped and you immediately missed the contact, finally opening your eyes and lifting your head to protest.

“You're feeling better?”

Sam's question catches you off guard and you pause, staring into your girlfriend's soft brown eyes and raised eyebrow with confusion. Frowning, you finally decide to take a look at the place you are in and come across a messy white room with machines nearby. A hospital room.

The events of the last few hours come back to you in a quick, jumbled flash. The confrontation with the Ghostfaces, the deaths, the police, the ambulance... and the surgery, because of course in addition to all the terror and threats of the last few days you also ended up being stabbed.

Well, that explains why you feel so sluggish then. You're high on drugs. That is, if the IV prick in your arm is any indication.

The hand on the back of your neck moves up towards your face, fingers tracing the contour of your chin and jaw, thumb rubbing soft circles on your cheek, your body relaxes and you lean into her touch, sighing all too contentedly at the affection. The memory of waking up a lot more groggy before and convincing Sam to lay down too when you found her sitting next to the hospital bed holding your hand tightly slowly returning to your hazy mind. She was a little hesitant at first, but it wasn't that difficult to convince her to hold you with the excuse that it would only be for a few minutes. You bet it must have been a few hours already.

“Hm,” you murmured absently, stretching against her, “I’m definitely feeling much better now.”

“That's good,” your girlfriend huffed softly, “I can't feel my legs in this position anymore.”

That caught your attention.

“Am I too heavy?” You ask, lifting your head to examine her for any bruises from the previous fight, “I can move if it’s hurting you.”

“No,” She squeezes you tighter quickly, “I’m good here.”

Sam's own eyes were half-lidded, almost closing over the last few minutes you were asleep, but she refused to give in to the urge to doze off too. It would have been such a waste when she could just hug you and breathe properly for the first time since the last few hellish weeks you've all had.

The TV on the wall had long since been muted, with the image of some random animal documentary flickering in the background. Sam's head rested against the pillows and your body lay happily spread over hers – and she looked perfectly satisfied for someone who had complained and complained about your puppy dog eyes before.

Somewhere between convincing Sam to lie down and pretending to pay attention to the screen, you ended up falling asleep, one of your arms hanging lazily over the side of the bed. Sam realized this instantly, feeling your weight finally relax on her. It made her relax too. Not completely. Sam was never completely relaxed, no matter how tired she was, not anymore, especially not after a night like that. But she managed to feel good enough to enjoy the moment.

The environment was as welcoming as any hospital could be, but her embrace brought a sense of security that lulled you perfectly to sleep and the knowledge that everyone was okay and in the next room allowed Sam to let her guard down. Yet falling asleep and losing that, the feeling that nothing could happen as long as she held you tight and ran her fingers over your warm skin, seeing and hearing every sleepy sound and movement you made – from a tired sigh as you fit, to one of your hands founding the collar of her sweater and grabbing it, holding her close – it would be a waste.

“You sure?” You hesitate, searching her eyes for any hint of hidden discomfort.

Sam sighs, nodding: “You wouldn’t believe how comfortable I am right now.”

“Okay then,” you rest your ear on her chest, feeling her head nod and her heart bumping, still a little high. A yawn crosses your lips, “But let me know if you need me to move.”

She hums in response and you fall into a comfortable silence for a while, the sound of machines running and your soft breaths in the same rhythm left you trying your hardest not to fall asleep again until you felt your girlfriend's chest vibrate beneath you again in a barely contained laugh.

“You’re cute when you’re tired.”

“Huh?” you muttered, lifting your drooping head and finally refocusing your vision on her.

“I should probably get up now, let you get some rest.” Sam said, reluctantly removing her arms from you so she could move away.

You shook your head, grabbing one of her hands and letting them fall to the side of the bed, swinging freely in the air.

“No, I’m good here.” You echoed, denying nonchalantly. You let your head find a place on her neck, making her lie back against the pillows.

Sam sighed against you slowly, much more out of satisfaction – and relief – than annoyance at your insistence, returning to the task of running her fingers down your back until you spoke again.

“Where’s Tara?” You ask, voice muffled by the face buried in her neck, “And the twins?”

“They're watching Anika.” She responds and you get alarmed, before Sam reassures you, “She's gonna be alright, she just needs to stay in the hospital for a while longer. And also a lot of rest. Like you, by the way.”

“I am resting.”

If Sam hadn't been fighting sleep for over an hour now, she would have a wide, stupid grin plastered on her face at the sound of your indignant mumble. Since that wasn't the case, she contented herself with a small smile.

“Whatever you say, amor.”

She surrenders, completely this time, without any more false attempts to leave. Sam felt as if you were the one rocking her and not the other way around, as if nothing else could touch her, even for a little while. There were no worries about horrible jobs, breakdowns in therapy, pressure with college exams and much less paranoia about the existence of cinematic serial killers. Nothing else could exist in your – literal – white room. Just the two of you in that small bed.

Each synchronized breath of your chest next to hers pressed her own ribs, the delicate breath sending delicious shivers down her spine and making her completely aware of how close your bodies were and shocking her at how it still didn't feel close enough.

“I love you,” she says. Rasped, you barely hear it. “I love you so freaking much that sometimes I just want to drown into your chest and curl up between your ribs, with your heart.” She takes a breath, then pauses, hesitantly: “...Is that too weird?”

“...Well,” you gasp, heart completely racing against your ears, “No weirder than what we already go through on a daily basis, I guess.”

Sam groaned at your response, feeling like a lovesick teenager in one of the movies Tara and Mindy love to make fun of. Rambling poetically about her passion.

But, screw it, that's exactly what she is, right? Sam thought. Let her have it. She deserves it.

(Her therapist would definitely pat her on the back for that thought.)

Unlike what Sam thought she should feel with the realization of that thought, her heart didn't skip a beat uncomfortably, her hands didn't get sweaty and cold with the doubt of how to deal with this. It kept pounding in that same slow, steady, familiar rhythm, with one of the most precious and loved people of her life completely aware of how she felt.

“I feel like drowning into your chest all the time too.”

Her favorite place in the world was anywhere you were together and it was physically impossible to be closer than that at the moment, although she wouldn't give up trying.

It was pure and simple happiness. Warmth and security that captured her stomach and left it churning with what felt like a million bubbles popping simultaneously.

When you first came to her life and Sam realized being falling for you, she thought her love would swallow her. That it would be something she would keep to herself until it exploded. You seemed to have made it your mission to prove her otherwise.

“I didn’t say ‘all the time’ tho.”

Here you were, together and fine.

“Oh, shut up.”

Your grip on Sam's hand tightened in very bad feigned irritation and when you rose quickly to give her a kiss, your girlfriend burst into laughter and your lips hit her strong jaw instead.

“That tickles, baby.”

“I was shooting for your lips, but you moved.” You simply shrugged, leaning into her again and this time she met you on the way, a stupid smile growing between you and breaking the kiss too soon. You lay back down and Sam took a long breath, leaving one last kiss on your forehead.

This time, when her head feels heavy and droops from sleep, Sam does nothing to stop it, letting the feeling finally consume her.

Nothing, not even in her most vivid fantasies, had ever been so perfect.

And if by chance Tara ends up sending Sam a photo of the two of you napping the next day when everyone is getting ready to go home and it becomes the new wallpaper on her phone, well… that's nobody's business.

#sam carpenter x reader #sam carpenter imagine #scream x reader #sam carpenter x y/n #sam carpenter #scream 6 #scream vi #melissa barrera x reader #melissa barrera #sam carpenter x you #wlw #denwrites

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yetanothercrpau · 1 month ago

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Realism ≠ No Mansion 2: Electric Boogaloo

Hi! It’s me! Lucas: the guy who just posts and still doesn’t quite know what to do with this blog.

If you’ve been around a while, this is kind of a loose sequel to this post I made a while ago about realism in Creepypasta. (You don’t need to read it to get this one—but hey, it’s there if you want the full saga.)

So, I saw two confessions on the crp confessions blog, you can see them here and here, and they made me mad. Like, really mad.

So let’s talk about them.

Then I’m gonna explain what realism SHOULD mean. Ya got that? K good.

1️⃣ Eyeless Jack ≠ Emotionless Jack

“He’s a demon now so why would he be emotional…”

WTF do you even mean. What are you on about? Have you just not heard of nuance?? Or like… any vampire story that wasn’t Twilight?

Let me set the record straight:

💀 Being a demon, eldritch abomination, or cannibal does NOT make you immune to nuance. It’s very possible that Jack would still act like a person, because he used to be one.

Let him mourn. Let him bond. Let him feel. Just because he’s cold on the outside doesn’t mean he has to be hollow on the inside.

It is a true testament to how uncreative people can be that they cannot comprehend a non-human having human traits. That’s literally the entire point of horror sometimes.

2️⃣ The Slender Mansion Is Not the Problem, Your Laziness Is

“The mansion trope is unrealistic 😭”

Oh, so now realism matters in the world of faceless teleporting demons and immortal serial killers??

Here’s the deal: People keep confusing “I don’t like this trope” with “this trope is unrealistic,” and it’s driving me insane.

You’re allowed to not like the Slender Mansion trope. But don’t act like it’s inherently flawed or unrealistic just because you’ve only seen it done badly.

There are SO many ways to write it well:

🏚️ Maybe Slenderman built it over decades 🧠 Maybe he brainwashed or manipulated people to build it 🌀 Maybe it’s a pocket dimension 👁️ Maybe he needs it to keep tabs on dangerous entities ⚔️ Maybe the tension of them all hating each other is the point

You can write all of this in a grounded, character-driven way. But you have to actually write it.

“Realism” doesn’t mean they hate each other forever. It doesn’t mean they’re emo, sad, edge monsters who stab each other on sight. It means asking why they don’t, and writing that reason.

⚖️ What Realism Should Actually F**ing Mean*

Creepypasta thrives on creativity and new interpretations. That’s what made this fandom so fun in the first place. But now? We’re just letting it rot.

People want “realism” but what they really mean is “I want every character to be bland, edgy, traumatized, and incapable of emotional complexity.”

So let me say it clearly:

🔎 REALISM SHOULD MEAN:

🧠 Exploring Toby’s disorders beyond just CIPA and Tourette’s

(And actually getting ALL OF them right for once.)

🩸 Understanding Nina’s psychology and how she either evolves past it or is consumed by it instead of reducing her to a fangirl stereotype

(IRL, people idolize murderers all the time, this isn’t a stretch.)

🖤 Giving even characters like Slenderman nuance and motivation

(Let him be terrifying, but let him have a reason.)

🎭 Writing Sully as a person and not some cartoon evil/edgy alter-ego

🧠 Realism should mean digging deeper. Getting creative. Telling stories that hit.

💥 Not This Bland, Flavorless, tasteless, generic, lazy Hellscape

Realism is not:

Taking all the fun stuff away

Erasing the mansion

Removing supernatural elements

Making everyone sad, edgy, and miserable with no room for connection

Making every character a hate machine who murders on sight

Realism is not an excuse to make every take dry, boring, and completely devoid of heart.

If you’re gonna write realism, do it right.

Get creative. Think it through. Don’t dismiss ideas because you can’t write a reason for them to work. If someone wants to write a mansion AU, a found family, a Slenderdad arc, LET THEM.

We are in a fandom built on creativity and horror, not bland elitism.

Thanks for coming to my TED Talk. And if you’re mad at me: I live in the Slender Mansion, come find me.

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somegrumpynerd · 5 months ago

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Quickly posting this now so I don't forget later lol

Happy anniversary to the Cat Gay Panic AU! @krossheadquarters

For the last few weeks, Cross had been transformed into a cat every night. Why it started and what caused it, he couldn’t be sure, but it was almost routine at this point. Killer had found and picked him up on his first night and he’d been returning to Nightmare’s castle to hide out in Killer’s room ever since.

Until this night.

He’d hopped up onto the windowsill of Killer’s room only to find it empty. Well, Killer’s other cats were there, but the monster himself was mysteriously absent. On any other night Cross might have just turned around and left, or made himself comfy and waited to see when Killer might return, but something different had happened today.

Their teams had met up in the field earlier in the day, the usual fight for an AUs survival in the balance. At some point Killer had snuck up on him, and out of instinct Cross had dealt him a pretty hard blow. He wouldn’t have normally been so rough but it caught him off guard, and although it succeeded in getting Nightmare and his gang to retreat, he couldn't help but feel guilt tangling amongst his ribs as he’d watched Killer get carried off.

His relationship with Killer was something that was also getting tangled. They used to just simply be enemies, rivals on opposing teams, but ever since Killer started doting on him so sweetly in cat form Cross had become conflicted. Seeing a new gentler side to his rival had introduced all kinds of confusing feelings. Did he really… like Killer? If anybody else had been asking him that he would have told them no immediately, definitively. Certainly not.

Though, it made it much harder to explain why he was treading around Nightmare’s castle looking for him.

He should have just stayed in the room or gone home, but seeing Killer’s door was ajar had been too tempting. Even as an inconspicuous little cat, Cross felt his soul pounding as he darted down hallways and around corners. Sure, Killer may have been taking in strays like a shelter, but that didn’t mean the others would be so kind if they found him.

Why was he even doing this??

It was a silly question, he knew perfectly well why. He just needed to make sure Killer was okay. He felt guilty enough about hurting him earlier, now that the other was missing from his room it just weighed too heavily on Cross’s mind.

Finally, as he approached an open door, he heard familiar voices. He could hear Killer’s voice! Cross hurried over and peeked inside the room and sure enough, there was Killer lying on a bed.

There were two other beds in the room with sterile white sheets, and the walls were lined with cabinets full of bottles and jars and boxes. It looked like some kind of infirmary, but Cross had never imagined Nightmare’s group would have one. He didn’t have much time to think on it though, as once again his instincts took over when he saw Killer and he let out a little chirp as his tail raised up to greet him.

Killer shifted at the noise and propped himself up on one elbow to look down, his whole face breaking out into a grin as he saw the other. Cross refused to acknowledge the purr he let out at seeing that smile directed at him.

“Oreo!” he cheered. “you found me!”

Cross started happily trotting towards him, but stopped dead in his tracks as another figure stepped around the bed. A big dark goopy figure that fixed him with a suspicious stare, he could feel his back raising as he stared back into the single cyan eye.

It felt like he spent several minutes under Nightmare’s scrutinising gaze, waiting to be picked up with a tentacle and turned into paste or thrown from a window, but really it was only seconds.

“I don’t remember this one.” Nightmare finally uttered, turning his sceptical expression on Killer. “Are you still bringing in strays?”

“only sometimes,” Killer replied, far too casually for the look he was getting. “this one doesn’t stay all day, he only shows up at night.”

Nightmare was doing something to the top of the bed but Cross couldn’t make out what, it was too high up. All he could see was a strange blue-green glow coming off it. He did see Killer’s hand though, since the other was leaning it as far down from the bed as he could reach and motioning for Cross to come over.

Now that Nightmare seemed distracted enough, Cross continued his little dash over to meet Killer’s hand and happily purred as the other stroked his head.

“I wish you would stop bringing in these creatures who need so much care and attention.” Nightmare chided.

It wasn’t how Cross had ever imagined Nightmare reprimanding his henchmen. No yelling, no threats, no swinging them around. He sounded more exasperated than angry, like a desperate teacher trying to reason with the rowdiest child in their class.

“isn’t that what I said to you when you brought in Horror? you didn’t listen to me either.”

Cross didn’t need to see over the bed, he could hear the smug grin Killer was wearing for that remark. It was one thing to have that attitude with the enemy team, but it was another to speak like that to the powerful monster giving you orders. It made his fur start to stand up a little, was he trying to get himself killed??

There was a beat of silence that felt icy cold to Cross, but he must have been the only one as Killer kept petting him as though nothing was happening.

“I don’t have to heal you, you know.” Nightmare responded finally. “I can very easily let you lie here and heal slowly with time like everyone else.”

“yeah but you wouldn’t do that, you love me too much.” Killer chimed with all the confidence in the world.

Healing him…? Cross knew Dream had some basic healing magic, but he never suspected Nightmare would too, what good would it be to him? Was he actually fixing Killer’s injuries?

Suddenly Killer let out a little yelp, like someone had pressed their cold hands against him. Cross felt his back going up again and a hiss rising in his throat.

“okay okay, no more cats” Killer relented. After a moment he added, much quieter “…this month.”

He could hear Nightmare heave a sigh and the strange glow disappeared from over the top of the bed.

“I should have condemned you to the void long ago and avoided all this trouble.” He said, sounding more weary than annoyed.

“love you too boss!” Killer replied, and from the sound of it he was grinning widely again.

“Stay in here for the night and it should be fixed by morning, don’t do anything foolish before it’s healed.”

Nightmare stepped around the bed to leave and caught sight of Cross again, who tried to make himself look somewhat big and imposing. If only to cover up the chill of fear that ran through him at having Nightmare look down at him like that.

“And make sure that beast doesn’t destroy anything in here, or I shall make a rug out of it.” He added before walking out.

Cross could feel his fur standing on end, he didn’t take a threat from the god of negativity lightly. Killer must have been used to it though, as Cross heard him making little “pss pss” noises at him as he leaned over the bed.

“aw, don’t listen to him,” Killer cooed when he saw how riled up Cross had gotten. He smoothed his hand over Cross’s head and gave him a comforting little scratch behind the ear. “he’s just grumpy cause we lost, he won’t hurt you.”

Cross had no such confidence. Although… Killer did have a pretty sizeable collection of cats who seemed calm as could be in his room. If he was able to keep so many for this long maybe Nightmare really didn’t bother with them, but it was still very jarring to hear his greatest enemy talked about like he was nothing more than a crabby old neighbour.

“c’mere little guy, can you get up here okay?” He said, motioning for Cross to jump onto the bed with him.

With a little preparation (and some butt wiggles), Cross managed to leap up next to him, and was immediately greeted by two arms pulling him in and nuzzling on the top of his head. He didn’t bother fighting the purrs that erupted from this, it wasn’t because he liked Killer. He just enjoyed the affection, that was all.

“aw, I missed you too” Killer mumbled into the top of Cross’s head before planting a little kiss there.

It was apparently something Killer did pretty often to his cats, but Cross still wasn’t used to it as he immediately let out a little surprised chirp and began kicking his paws around. Thank the stars cats couldn’t blush, or he would be ruined.

“ah!” Killer sucked in a breath as one of Cross’s paws met his ribs, the same place where he’d struck Killer earlier.

Cross jumped at the sound, trying so hard to back away from the spot he almost fell right off the bed. Killer readjusted himself and rubbed at his chest but didn’t seem too annoyed, he even held out a hand to coax Cross closer again.

“heh, careful there oreo, can’t be stepping on me there.”

Cross walked back to Killer’s face like he was stepping over landmines, testing each spot with a delicate paw before putting any weight on it. Killer let out a little chuckle at his weird movements and wrapped an arm around him when he was close enough. He let out a quiet, apologetic meow.

“it’s okay buddy, it’s not your fault.” Killer explained. “Criss-cross got me pretty good, did a real number on me.”

He continued rubbing one thumb up and down on Cross’s cheek as he went on, sounding almost a little bit sad.

“we haven’t been as rough with each other lately, we were kinda having fun with it a little bit, talking shit to each other while we fought and all. I was starting to think maybe he likes me, but… I guess not.”

Cross let out what sounded more like a bark than a meow. No!!! That was an accident, he didn’t mean to hit so hard! It wasn’t that he didn’t like him just- just-

“heh, what? you think different?” Killer asked, amused at Cross’s little panicked outburst.

“Rrrrow!” Cross responded defiantly. Killer just laughed.

“eh what do you know, you haven’t even met the guy yet.”

Cross tried not to sulk as Killer resumed petting him. He pressed his face into Killer’s neck as the purring kicked up again, making the other giggle as his whiskers tickled the top of his spine.

“oh well, at least you like me don’t you oreo?”

After a second’s pause, Cross meowed back, with confidence this time.

#UTDR #UTMV #CGPAUAnniversary #Kross ship #I wanted to try and do something for this cause I still think about this AU sometimes #It's super rushed and basic but still #Also I had to make it a little bit dadmare cause I don't know any other way lol #Happy gay cat anniversary to all who celebrate 🎉

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