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1kook · 4 years

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skirt chasers — drabble iv

THIS IS A SKIRT CHASERS DRABBLE - FIND THE OTHERS HERE ! SUMMARY Jungkook was a man. A skirt chaser. He could only withstand so much torture before he broke, and seeing your gorgeous, smooth legs on display after so many weeks of starvation awoke an ancient being inside of him. WARNINGS JK POV!!!, attempted solo masturbation, k*ssing, jk’s extensive knowledge of pornos, grinding, cunnilingus, face sitting, spit kink, light choking, praise kink, self nipple play, a love for boobies, unprotected sex, use of the pull out method, i love u kink, its kinda hinted tht oc has a somnophilia kink? not rlly but tagging just in case -_- RATING m (18+) WC 6.3k this can't even classified as a drabble anymore wtf

NOTES i have had this in my drafts since may 3. it is december 21. everyone point n laugh. anyway i very much love stimbo sc jk and i think he’s very cool so here’s a whopping 6k of the inner mechanisms of his big nerdy, college hottie brain <3

He doesn’t notice you’ve drifted off until he’s three solid paragraphs into his semester-long research paper. “Babe, can you toss me my charger it’s over…”

Jungkook swears he’s gonna take every single one of those stupid skirts and burn them to ashes. They had done their duty well, had given him the girlfriend of his dreams, but now they were just pushing their luck. What was once the epitome of a cute and sweet girlfriend, has now become the bane of Jungkook’s existence. He loathed them, he hated them, he could go twenty million decades without ever seeing them again because the torture they inflicted upon him was borderline inhumane.

Holy fuck, he knew you were gorgeous— hello, he was your boyfriend, thinking you were gorgeous was very high on the list of requirements you searched for in someone of his position —but he’s absolutely positive that you’re probably the sexiest woman he’s ever seen in all his twenty-two years. And Jungkook’s seen a lot of porn. Like, a lot.

He can’t help himself. Before Jungkook knows it, he’s rolling his desk chair over to where you’re sprawled across his bed, skin so soft where it presses against his pillow, lips so plush, and he’s pretty sure there’s a tiny, tiny droplet of drool begging to escape from between your puckered lips. Normally, he’d tease you to hell and back for this, knows how flustered you become when he catches you off guard, but today he lets it slide in favor of focusing on something else about your dozing form.

It’s the soft curve of your hips from where you lay on your side, smooth legs tucked close to you, and that goddamn pleated skirt giving you absolutely no protection from the eyes of the world around you. Luckily, he made sure to lock the door to his room when you came over today. And he’s almost positive Taehyung isn’t home anyway. So there’s no potential roommate to see you here, cuddled against Jungkook’s teddy bear, blue lace panties tucked between your folds.

They were his favorite.

Adorable and soft, and he knows that particular style— the cheeky kind —is your preferred style, because it’s the one he sees almost every time the two of you fuck. Seamless, because you hate when they tug against your skin, and baby blue simply because it was your favorite color. He can’t recall the last time they had been so exposed like this.

God, how many times had this same situation occurred? You dropping by to encourage him to do his homework, before eventually falling asleep and leaving him to his own devices. A lot of times, Jungkook guesses, because each and every time you wake up and nab one of his protein bars from the stash by his bed. Jungkook’s gone through four boxes in the last month.

But how many times had this happened with you in a skirt? Never. This was a rarity.

As the year progressed and yours and Jungkook’s relationship reached new levels of intimacy and adoration, Jungkook is sad to say the skirts had begun appearing less and less. It was winter and, unlike the furnace that was Jungkook’s body, he’s pretty sure you were a cold-blooded reptilian at this point, always leeching off of him for warmth. So since you couldn’t stand the cold, the skirts slowly faded into the background, replaced by Jungkook’s second favorite: the leggings.

He was no complainer, Jungkook respected your decisions! He wasn’t going to pressure you into wearing those cute tiny skirts he loved so much just because it fueled some PornHub-esque fantasy in his brain, especially not as a harsh winter descended upon you and the days became colder. He would not risk a sick girlfriend in the name of a horndog daydream.

But holy mother of pearl, Jungkook was a man. A skirt chaser. He could only withstand so much torture before he broke, and seeing your gorgeous, smooth legs on display after so many weeks of starvation awoke an ancient being inside of him.

Sure he’d seen them every time you guys fucked— duh. But this was not the same. It was different, seeing the tender skin of your inner thigh when he knew you weren’t trying to, your skirt stuck between you and the bed as you shifted about. It was different, knowing he could so easily have you, just flip up the skirt and tug your underwear to the side, not having to worry about fighting your leggings or skinny jeans down your legs. It was different and it was good, so painstakingly good, to have you in the skirt, but the worst part was Jungkook couldn’t even do anything because you were fucking sleeping.

He’d subconsciously pictured you like this for weeks, sprawled out on his sheets in the flimsiest clothing and ready for him to just slide right in, but Jungkook was a good boy—you’d told him as much just last week when he’d paid the bus fare for that ragtag group of teenagers, smiling up at him like he was your entire world. Was he sometimes a little too mean, a little too wild? Yes. But at his core, Jungkook lived for your praise. He couldn’t just stomp on that title you’d so lovingly bestowed upon him, a title he’d worked hard for since!

Furthermore, even if Jungkook wasn’t a good boy, to touch you in your sleep just seemed wrong. You’d mentioned in passing once that you wouldn’t mind as long as it was him (“I’m yours,” you had purred at some party, hand crawling down his abdomen, “your doll, remember?”), but Jungkook couldn’t bring himself to when you were so vulnerable and just… not there. It wouldn’t feel right to use your body when you weren’t awake, and no amount of encouragement from you would change his mind.

So he does what all good boys do and prepares himself for a quick, self-administered handfuck.

Sue him, his girlfriend was hot!

It’d been a little over two weeks since the last time the two of you had fucked, and it was mostly his fault; clinicals and research papers had practically consumed what little free time he had in his schedule. And if Jungkook remembers correctly, he wouldn’t be that lucky this upcoming week either. Something tells him your period was approaching.

Jungkook doesn’t know what type of sorcery you’ve done to him, but in the time you’ve been dating, it’s become increasingly more and more difficult to nut without you. Whether that be fucking you, listening to your voice, or just imagining your pretty face in his head, you held a monopoly over Jungkook’s libido, one that he feared you’d never let go.

He had years stacked on years of browsing PornHub and Brazzers, can recall experiencing some of the craziest orgasms of his life while watching some girl get fucked. All things come to an end. Ever since he started dating you, not even his favorite video could make him hard anymore. Oh, how the great have fallen.

But with your blue panties before him, his cock hardens by the minute, nearly doubles in size when you move about and sigh a heavenly sound. Frankly, he doesn’t feel bad jerking one off to the thought of you. You were his girlfriend! He knows that you know that you’re the main character of all his right-handed adventures, and you’re not going to be mad at him for jerking off to you now. In fact, Jungkook imagines you’d be mad if he’d woken you up just for some frenzied quickie. This way, he’s blowing off some steam and you’re getting an extra ten minutes of napping. Everyone wins.

He’s barely tugged himself out of the confines of his sweats when a soft mumble of his name has his soul leaving his body. “Kook?”

“Baby,” he exhales, immediately tucking himself back into his underwear before moving closer towards you. You roll onto your back, skirt useless as fuck, he thinks, as it sprawls around your waist. “What’s up?” he murmurs, voice gentle, a hand carding through the nape of your neck because that’s how you always wake him up. Jungkook would be a liar to say it wasn’t one of the best feelings in the world.

You say something, but it’s a mess of gibberish and too quiet for him to understand, before turning on your side again and shuffling closer to him. Jungkook smiles, runs the tips of his fingers over your cheek, before moving to caress your back, massaging some feeling back into your muscles. Some more mumbled words, but this time he deciphers them as something along the lines of “c’mere.”

He chuckles, ducking down to kiss your cheek. “Don’t wanna interrupt your nap, baby,” he hums. “Go back to sleep.”

You whine in protest, suddenly catching his hand in yours. “Please,” you sigh, eyes fluttering open, but they’re unfocused as you gaze at him. Jungkook clenches his teeth. Technically he should be working on that twelve page research paper, and even just trying to jerk off right now would have been a huge setback. Crawling into bed with you, where you’re so sinfully laid out for him to take, would completely offset his plans until tomorrow. He had to be a responsible student here.

“I really gotta finish my paper…” he says, trying to let you down as gently as possible, flashing you an apologetic gaze. He thinks he has it in the bag, and your extended silence almost has him rolling back to his desk, when you suddenly snap into action.

“But what about your dick,” you murmur, and Jungkook chokes.

“My what—?” he splutters, voice a little too high.

You say nothing, craning your neck to release a series of cracks, soft huffs leaving your lips. Jungkook’s on edge the whole time, eyes following the movement of your neck, the hypnotizing expanse of skin that bares itself to him. “Saw your hand down your pants,” you say, eyes blinking open, and though they’re droopy with sleep, at least you can hold them open this time.

Jungkook laughs nervously, rubbing a hand against the back of his neck in embarrassment. “You saw that?” A soft hum. He wants to die. “Ah, baby, don’t worry about it. Know you’re tired, so just nap,” he sighs, caressing the back of your head once again, and he thinks he’s finally convinced you so he lets his guard down.

You moan softly, and he’s almost entirely sure it’s one of those waking up types of sounds, the ones you make when you’re stretching around the bed in the morning. “Want your cock.”

Jungkook swears he’ll die, right here, right now.

He groans, lowers his head to rest on the mattress. “Jesus, fuck, baby,” he huffs, has to count to ten to will the stirring of his slowly hardening cock away for the second time that day. “Don’t say stuff like that when you’re half asleep, please.”

You ignore him, the hand that had been wrapped around his wrist tugging him closer. You barely succeed, muscles still so weak, but Jungkook humors you and rolls his chair right beside your head, where he ducks down to press a kiss to the corner of your mouth. “Noooo,” you whine when he draws away too quickly.

A laugh blossoms in his chest, and Jungkook proceeds to rain down a series of kisses on your pretty face before he can stop himself. You melt under his touch, his affection, and Jungkook adores the way your body is so soft and pliant like this, back arching towards him after he places a hand on your waist.

“Come here,” you urge, voice a quiet plea. So soft, so needy.

Jungkook malfunctions for just a second before he’s clambering over you on the bed, manhandling your body until you're both on your sides, facing each other, with you pressed tightly to his chest. Even with your hands brushing up and down his back in the way that sends every nerve in Jungkook’s body tingling, and your leg thrown over his hip, some stupid part of him convinces himself you’re just cold, trying to warm up after walking around campus in that tiny little skirt all day. He cuddles you as best as he can.

And even with his dick twitching in his pants and his caveman instincts yelling at him to thrust up into your inviting core, Jungkook remains as professional as someone in a relationship can be when in bed with their lover. He’s so stuck on his self-control that he almost doesn’t hear the snort you muffle against his neck.

“What are you doing?” you laugh, reaching up to pinch his cheek. Jungkook blinks, eyes wide like a doe caught in headlights. “Are we gonna fuck or what?”

He chokes. He doesn’t even try to muffle his reaction like other times, because the way you’re looking at him and the heel you press against the back of his thigh preoccupies his thoughts instead. Your hands are still tracing along his back, melting him with your dainty touches. “Baby?” you question after he’s been silent too long, distracted by the way you use that hooked leg to tug your bodies closer.

“You… you’re still asleep,” Jungkook says, though it’s definitely a question.

You scoff, a smile curling around your features. “Mm, definitely not asleep,” you tease, and shift to push him onto his back, wiggling on top of him until those baby blue panties are pressed against his quickly hardening member. “Why? Wanted to touch me when I was asleep?” you continue, and Jungkook’s eyes nearly burst out of their sockets.

“No!” he exclaims, hands clutching your hips in alarm. He can tell he surprises you, because your eyes go wide for a brief second. “Never…” he mumbles afterwards, looking away from your imploring gaze. “Only like you when you’re awake.”

You sigh, pressing a sweet kiss to his cheek that makes his heart flood with adoration for you. “You’re a good boy, Jungkook,” you say back, just as quietly. “A blueprint for the perfect man.” Another kiss, this time against the corner of his mouth that makes Jungkook’s hands twitch against your sides.

A soft moan tears itself from his throat, fingers digging into your hips as you slowly roll them against him. The heat emanating from your core seeps past the thin barrier of his sweatpants, makes his cock twitch in his boxers. He knows how it feels inside of you, has your body memorized like the back of his hand. But it’s in moments like these that he finds himself aching for you, desperate to feel the fluttering walls of your pussy, the pitiful whimpers that fall from your kiss swollen lips. And, well. The skirt makes it all too easy.

He places two hands on the backs of your thighs, runs them up until he’s pushing your skirt up over your waist. You pull away from his lips with a sneaky little smile, pointer finger stroking down the side of his face lazily. “Mm?” you tease, leaving a coy little peck against his mouth. “Now you wanna touch?” Jungkook rolls his eyes, snaps his teeth at your wandering finger when you draw it too close to his mouth. The giggle you let out is so damn precious, makes him want to put you in a glass case and never let anyone else touch you. Coincidentally, it also makes him want to rail you into the mattress until you cry.

“I’ll fucking ruin you, doll,” he settles on murmuring, subtly pushing you down against him. A soft giggle. Jungkook knows it’s your favorite nickname, even if you won’t admit it. He's the only one allowed to call you it, something about his intentions being pure or whatever, he’s not really sure. Anyway, you’re still so cute and soft on top of him, blinking slowly and prettily, so he’s dragging it out a bit, hoping you’ll become more alert in a few more minutes.

As sleepy as you may be, you never miss out on a chance to rile him up. “As if, doll,” you retort, his nickname for you rolling off your tongue seamlessly. It sounds heavenly, sparks this weird emotion in him that he never considered before. Him, a doll? No way. But there’s something about the sweet lilt of your voice, the starry-eyed gaze you level him with, that has him throwing all reservations aside. Put him on a shelf and call him Barbie, because he would be anything you wanted him to be.

Anyway, Jungkook’s sappy thoughts last all of two seconds before he’s rolling you over, successfully trapping you beneath his body. “Oh, so scary,” you feign, hands fluttering to clutch at your chest.

He glides his hands down your body, let’s them trail over your hip and down the side of your thigh. “Don’t get sassy with me,” he warns, thumb peeking beneath the hem of your skirt. Jungkook really wants to burn the piece of fabric this time, because after all that time it spent torturing him with its halfhearted attempts at covering you, it chooses now to do it properly.

Hands are thrown around his shoulders, the overwhelming scent of your perfume and body wash tickling his nose when you pull him in for another kiss. “Or what?” you purr, irises swirling with lust. “Gonna use your manly man strength to hold me down?”

He shushes you with a kiss, slow and languid just how you like. Your taste is familiar, feels like coming home, so Jungkook can’t be blamed for getting too carried away. It starts gentle— it always does. But then a tiny mewl gets stuck in your throat, the following moan swallowed by his tongue, and Jungkook nearly loses it. He nips at your bottom lip, waits patiently for you to open up for him, and when you do he wastes no time diving in. Your tongue against his is slick and wet, makes the most lewd sound. Your little sharp intakes of air fill the gaps, shuddery breaths that Jungkook takes as a good sign.

He strikes while the iron is still hot.

It’s amidst your lazy kissing that he secures his hands around your waist, two reassuring squeezes thrown your way before he’s abruptly rolling onto his back again. “Kook!” you squeal, clutching at the front of his shirt. A pouty frown paints your face, sleepy eyes narrowing him with a rather unimpressed look, tainted with the barest hints of confusion.

Jungkook grins, reaching back to yank his pillow out from beneath his head. “On my face,” he commands suddenly, and you snort.

“What?” you ask a little incredulously, leaning back to level him with an even more lost expression. “Since when do we do that?”

Jungkook shrugs. “Since I decided twenty seconds ago,” he answers rather bluntly. You still don’t look too convinced. It’s not a position the two of you have ever tried. You’re a little on the sappy side, always like to look at his face while you fuck, hold his cheeks in your palms, kiss him sweetly. On the one hand, Jungkook totally gets it; he’ll proudly admit that the sight of your orgasming face paired with your fantastic tits have done him many favors these past few months.

However, Jungkook is a lover of head. Giving or receiving, it’s very high on his list of sexual acts and whoever invented oral deserved all the praise in the world. Not only did you look drop dead gorgeous with his cock in your mouth— tears trailing down your cheeks, drool clinging to the corners of your lips —but you also looked absolutely sexy receiving it.

Kinda.

Probably.

Okay, so maybe Jungkook can’t really say, considering he always has a hard time catching a glimpse of your face when he’s down there licking and slurping your clit like a madman. Which is what leads him to this exact moment, an experiment weeks in the making. Jungkook has a theory that needs to be tested. “Please ride the fuck out of my face,” he tries, hoping the polite tone will win you over.

He’s met with an eye roll. Still, you’re kinder than you let on. “Okay,” you give in, and Jungkook will remember your heroism for the rest of his life. “But only because being on top is empowering.” He just barely contains an over-enthusiastic fist pump into the air, settling on a rather modest smile that has you leaning down to kiss him again. You reach for the zipper on the side of your skirt. “Just let me—“

“The skirt stays on,” he says quickly, hand on your wrist to stop you from removing his most favorite article of clothing.

“Baby,” you say, giving him a rather serious look. “It’ll cover your face.”

“It won’t,” he urges, reaching for the buttons on your blouse instead. Jungkook has had one too many encounters with tops like these, and has long since learned not to tear them apart like a crazed psycho. As much as he loves the sound of your buttons scattering across his bedroom floor, he can’t say he’s too fond of the scolding he inevitably gets afterwards. Anyway, the shirt comes off and so does your bra, leaving your tits in his face, tiny skirt on your hips. “Get up here,” he murmurs, ushering you up his body until your knees are pressing into the mattress right above his shoulders.

If it was up to Jungkook, he would have just grabbed your hips and shoved his face against your pussy. Luckily, it’s not, and your common sense shines through just in time. “One sec,” you say, and then finally, finally, the blue panties come off.

And then it’s just Jungkook and your glistening pussy.

“Holy fuck,” he groans, taking the opportunity to wrap his arms around your thighs. You squeak when he pulls you closer, hand instinctively reaching for the front of your skirt to hold away from his face. The view from here is heavenly, just your swollen clit, gorgeous tits, and shy face.

The muscles in your thighs are a little stiff. Or maybe you’re just nervous. Jungkook isn’t sure, all he knows is that it takes one encouraging tug for you to finally sit on his face. He doesn’t even register the surprised gasp that leaves your throat because he’s too busy tasting your pussy from an all new position. And it’s absolutely amazing.

Something about the position, having you carefully poised above him, does something to Jungkook. He likes to think he knows your body inside and out, knows what makes you melt and what makes you scream. He knows just how to lap at your cunt until you’re cumming, and how many fingers it takes for you to really feel it. But it’s like having you in this position changes all of that, rearranges all the tidbits of information Jungkook has spent months collecting.

(Jungkook is a meticulous man; he’s got a near perfect GPA right now that was the direct result of his carefully crafted note-taking techniques. Whether or not he abused the power of his perfectionist learning abilities to master the mechanisms of his girlfriend’s libido was no one's business but his own.)

One kitten lick against your swollen pearl makes you buck forward, clit brushing against his nose. Jungkook can’t remember you ever doing that on the first lick. “O- oh my—,” you cry, all airy and whiny. Your hand is pressed to the wall behind his bed, the other bunching the front of your skirt just above your mound. He’s rather happy to learn that, just as he’d hypothesized, this position does give him a better view of you.

He’s graced with the sight of your face, twisted up in pleasure. It’s the stereotypical eyes squeezed shut, lip caught between your teeth look. But there’s something different about it knowing that he’s gotten this reaction out of you with his mouth alone.

Jungkook quickly repositions you over him, tugging you back until his tongue is lined up with the front of your slit. You’re so warm down here, make him feel like he’s drowning with your heady scent alone. Tentatively, he lets his tongue dip between your folds, the very tip nudging your swollen clit. A moan tears itself from your throat, the hand that had been flush against the wall suddenly jumping forward to bury itself in his hair. “Oh- oh, fuck,” you shiver, hips jolting forward once more.

You taste good on his tongue, the arousal that coats your lips is sticky and sweet. When he laps his tongue along your folds, quivering hole to stiffened bud, you let out a sob that resonates deeply within Jungkook. And also Jungkook’s cock, which stirs beneath his trousers in excitement. What was once the focus of his mission, a quick handfuck to sedate himself before finishing his research paper, has long since been forgotten. It’s for the greater good, he tells himself, blinking up at you from between your thighs.

Eye contact lasts for exactly three seconds before you’re looking away bashfully, the fist clutching at your skirt trembling against your tummy. You’re so fucking pretty, Jungkook’s heart can’t take it.

And so he sets out on a mission to make you cum as soon as possible, abandoning his slow kitten licks in favor of suctioning his lips around your clit. “Kook,” you wail, tugging at his hair. Whether you do it purposely or not, Jungkook is a little shocked by how good the pain feels. It’s not an emotion he can ponder long, because then you’re using that same grip in his hair to tilt his head backwards, jerkily moving over him.

It’s rough and sudden, the buck against his face, but Jungkook loves it. The drag of your pussy against his lips, the wet glide of your juices smearing across his chin and Cupid’s bow. It all feels so good, and the fact Jungkook is getting a front row seat to the absolutely torn look on your face is just the cherry on top.

Jungkook has seen you make a lot of faces. He’s seen you shiver and drool as he nails you into your bed. He’s seen you sniffle and sob as he slowly fucks you in a rose petal filled bubble bath (a six month anniversary special planned by yours truly). He’s even seen your mirrored reflection fall apart as you bounced away on his lap in front of a mirror.

He’s never seen you like this before.

Needy and desperate, moaning his name softly, practically humping his face in your greed. Tiny skirt clutched against your waist, tits bouncing as you hurriedly grind against him. He has half the mind to burn this scene into his eyelids for the rest of his life.

He’s given up on doing anything with his tongue, simply sticking it out for you to do as you wish. Normally, he’s not a huge fan of letting you do things yourself. After all, Jungkook was your boyfriend. Making you cum was his job. But you’re moving so fast, so frantic, in your mission to cum. So Jungkook sits back and lets you go to town on his mouth as a series of moans spill from your lips.

And then something unforgivable happens.

Jungkook will admit it: he’s staring at you almost a little too dreamily, heart eyes and all. He thinks you’re fucking hot, taste like heaven and have these absolutely delicious boobs bouncing up and down. He’s a little distracted by your glorious figure that he doesn’t notice one crucial bit of information.

Your hand.

The desperate need to cum has your muscles weakening, thighs moving at a latent pace, and, much to Jungkook’s horror, hands trembling. It’s your own pleasure that lets the unimaginable happen: your skirt flutters down. Your grip on it loosens and before Jungkook knows it, the sight of your pretty face and nice tits are gone, snatched away before his very eyes. Even your wet cunt is impossible to see, his world suddenly shrouded in darkness.

Leave it to Jungkook to foil his own horny plan with, well, his horniness. If only he wasn’t so hopelessly in love with the image of you in skirts. Maybe then he could bask in the beauty that was you riding his face.

He acts fast, reaching for the material before he can miss out on anything. But the angle is weird, and without Jungkook’s hands holding your hips, you’re left weakly rolling forward instead. And he’s not the only one frustrated with this turn of events, your face quickly returning to its normal composed form as you level him with a frown. “Everything okay?” you pant.

Everything was not okay, but Jungkook isn’t sure how to tell you that without ruining this delicate moment. So he tries to show you with actions instead, releasing the skirt he’s got in his fist and letting it flutter over his face again. You giggle. “I told you so.”

It takes more willpower than he’d like to admit to pull away from your wet folds, pulling off with a lewd sound that has you biting your lip as you gaze down at him. “I told you so,” he mimics, a little mean but you don’t take it to heart. “Hold your skirt up.”

You hum, the grip on his hair loosening as you push away his dark locks instead. “Mmmm,” you hum. “No.”

“No?” he repeats, actually really scandalized. Okay, so he’s a little spoiled when it comes to you— it’s not his fault! You made him like this, conditioned him to think that you would always give into his every whim because you were just so sweet and considerate and wanted him to be happy. And Jungkook also wants you to be happy, and in his opinion, being happy right now means having him fuck your pretty brains out for ever getting sassy with him.

“I don’t listen to men,” you tease, followed by a cute little nod, skin still a little warm from your looming orgasm. Jungkook takes advantage of your tiny moment of weakness, and strikes like a viper.

A girlish squeal leaves your lips, hands stretching outwards as he knocks you backwards onto the mattress. “Jungkook,” you gasp, sprawled out artfully, beautifully, over his sheets now. He doesn’t waste a second longer, crawling over your body until you’re a shivering mess beneath him.

Hand against your throat, the other blindly reaching for the front of his sweatpants. “What is it, doll?” he drawls meanly, reveling in the way your eyes roll back when his newly-freed cock lands against your slit. A choked gasp leaves your throat, lashes fluttering wildly until Jungkook loosens his grip.

You’ve done a nice job riling yourself up, lips squelching wet and loose when he runs the tip of his cock along them. Your knees are pulled up for him, spread perfectly for him to fit between. You’re so good for him, Jungkook feels a little bad for how hard he’s going to fuck you now.

The sympathy doesn’t last long.

Once upon a time, you had been the epitome of a cute and sweet girlfriend. Had picked him up from class, encouraged him to do his homework, wore these cute little skirts around campus. Deep down inside, Jungkook knew everyone else was jealous of him— you were just so pretty and cute, a girl straight out of everyone’s dreams.

Until he sunk his horny claws into you. Jungkook will be the first to admit he spends a little too much time browsing porn sites— he’s a man, cut him some slack —which had never caused him any problems before. Even when the two of you were just friends (pining ones at that), you had never seemed even remotely affected by his extensive pornographical knowledge. It was a known fact among your friend group that Jungkook’s best friend was his right hand.

But then, of course, you started dating Jungkook and it was like a save file of all his horniest fantasies was downloaded directly into your brain. Which leads him to this.

“Spit in my mouth,” you shiver, got these huge, watery eyes pointed his way. His cock twitches.

There’s a little groan that tears itself from his throat when he leans forward, cock sliding along your folds, to grasp your chin between his fingers. “Open,” he commands, and you do. Your lower lip quivers, tongue pressed against it as you wait for Jungkook to spit down your mouth. He can’t say he regrets letting you peek through his porn stash, not when it leads to this, you whimpering at the hot glob of saliva he shoots down your throat. “Filthy,” he pants, memorizing the movement of your throat when you swallow like the good girl you are.

Before he can write another twelve sonnets about that dazed look on your face, he’s roughly grabbing at your thigh. You whine, limbs so pliant beneath his touch, letting him hike your knee over his forearm as he tugs you closer. “Fuck,” he groans, reaching down to align himself with your quivering hole. You’re still so wet, make the most lewd sound when he sinks into you. Not that Jungkook really hears it, the sound of your strained moans practically drowning everything else out.

“Fuck,” you cry, one hand clutching at his forearm, the other toying with your breast. It’s a magnificent sight, and Jungkook is suddenly feeling a little cocky when he realizes he’s the only one who gets to see this. It’s this presumptuous nature that fuels the first round of thrusts into your cunt, fast and full. He makes sure you feel every inch of him, tip to base, as he pistons his hips forward. “J— Jungkook,” you pant, back arching beneath him.

You take it so well, walls sucking him in every time he draws back out. “I’ve got you, doll,” he moans, hiking your leg further over his shoulder. Every roll of his hips has your tits bouncing back and forth, lower lip as well with the dopey, open-mouthed look you got on for him. And the damned skirt that got him here, fucking you with a punishing pace, sits perfectly around your waist. He has half the mind to take it off for you, briefly wonders if it hurts, but just looking at it reminds him of about thirty-seven pornos he’s seen. So it stays on, works alongside your lovestruck face to actively rewrite all those pornos anew with you starring in them instead.

It sure helps when you start your usual mindless babbling. “I love you,” you gasp, face screwed up in pleasure. “I- I love you so much.”

He’s contemplating doing a study on you and your weird mid-fuck confessions. You do this a lot, and while Jungkook doesn’t mind, it sure does leave him curious. “Love you too, baby,” he says anyway, repositioning his arms so he can hold your waist with both hands.

“Really?” you ask, voice so whiny, eyes brimming with tears. From emotion or your need to cum, Jungkooks not sure. (Hence the need for a study!)

Another brutal thrust that has you moaning loudly. “Really,” he reassures you, glancing down to watch his cock sink into your hole as he picks up the pace. Your arms are practically limbless, and his stomach is beginning to feel tight. The end was soon. “Love your pretty little face.”

Another whine, your fingers pulling at your pebbled nipples. “M- My pretty face?” you whimper, blink these long lashes up at him. They make Jungkook go a little mad, bring on a wave of jackhammer thrusts that cut your moans into choppy little cries instead.

“Prettiest girl I know,” he groans, not once stopping the movement of his hips. You’re quivering like a leaf beneath him, your entire body locking up as Jungkook guides you toward orgasm. “A fucking doll, baby— so beautiful for me,” he praises.

It’s exactly what you want to hear— secretly, Jungkook hypothesizes that you’re a little bit of an attention whore —crying out when he slows to a grind against you. Each roll of his hips has him rubbing over your swollen bud, leaves you trembling until you’re eventually unraveling beneath him. “Oh- Oh, fuck— Jungkook—“ you sob, writhing beneath him as you cream his cock.

Your tits look amazing, nipples stiff from your arousal and all the attention you’d been giving them. Your features soften, gasps framed by your pillowy lips. As Jungkook has said before, your pretty face was the most dangerous weapon.

He manages a few more pistons of his hips, mostly for reputation sake, before he’s eventually pulling out. His right hand, once the sole hero of his solo sessions, makes a valiant return now as he jacks himself off over you. It takes a few harsh pulls of his cock until he’s spurting his jizz over you, painting your tummy and your tits in white ribbons of cum. You flinch, a tiny whimper leaving your throat at the mess he makes. “Fuck,” he groans one last time.

When it’s over, you have the audacity to shyly pull down the front of your skirt. As if your tits aren’t out and about, but Jungkook pretends he doesn’t see it. Instead, he channels his energy into peppering your face in kisses. “Best girl,” he praises, even though he knows you hate the nickname. “My beautiful feminist queen.”

A pinch against his cheek. It hurts like hell, but he endures it for now, still very much in love with your performance today. “Get me a towel,” you huffily ask, uncomfortable with the jizz sticking to your tummy, as if he didn’t spit in your mouth a few minutes ago.

His research paper is waiting for him at his desk, the materials he’d spent weeks collecting waiting to be typed up. But his girlfriend is so soft and sleepy, asking him to stay for another nap.

There was never a choice.

#networkbangtan #bangtanhq #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook smut #jjk♡#jjk smut #jungkook fic #jeon jungkook fic #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook x reader #bts smut #bts fic #bts jungkook #mine #skirtfic

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bisexualwannabewriter · 3 years

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“This is killing me” Part Twelve - Spencer Reid x female reader

Summary : You’re working for the BAU, and Dr Spencer Reid is your best friend on the team. Actually, he’s your best friend, pErIoD. The thing is, you’re not supposed to feel that way about your best friend. He makes you feel some type of way, everyone in the team can see it, except you and him.

In the previous chapter, you put all of your focus on a new case involving a disorganized unsub, with an obsession with conspiracy theories and the existence of “lizard people” within our society. Spencer tried to tell you something about his date with officer Maggie Rowe, and Derek even tried to encourage you to listen to what he had to say. In addition to everything, you overheard a conversation between Spence and Maggie, that left you dubious : the both of them kissed, but it didn’t seem like things were going well between them...

You can find all the previous chapters here.

Chapter Summary : Your hard work has paid off. On the trip back to Quantico though, you and Spencer finally have the most honest conversation you’ve had so far. Your relationship takes a new turn, but things can never go too smoothly between the two of you. Still, after some clarification from Derek, hope starts to creep in...

TW : Violence, death, mental illness, drug use, conspiracy theories, exhaustion, anxiety. It’s fluffy, it’s angsty, it’s romantic, it’s clumsy, the tension is crazy. We’re getting there, people. Slowly but surely.

(Not my GIF)

You caught the unsub in a stupid way, really. He just killed at the wrong place, at the wrong time. Sometimes it happened. You could work as hard as you wanted, know the killer better than yourself... they would just leave one body, in a way that was even more sloppy than the others, and you could catch your man. One mistake, and that was it. It was a good thing, of course, but in situations like this, you never knew what the unsub's next move was going to be. They didn't even know it, until they did it. Your unsub fit in every category of an unorganized killer : below average intelligence, check. Socially inadequate, check. Worked an ungrateful job near the crime scenes, check. Living alone, check. Check, check, check. Your profile, your whole theory on his obsession with lizard people : check. You knew you would have caught him one way or another, as Spencer had managed to narrow down the places where the unsub could have been living, given the places of the last murders. But you caught him thanks to dumb luck. Gabriel Calahan was just a paranoid schizophrenic, whose mental illness had been exacerbated with severe drug use as a teenager. He believed some higher power was ordering him to uncover the truth about those controlling reptilians, who were going to lead us into chaos.

///

On the jet back to Quantico, you sat alone. You needed some peace and quiet. You were exhausted. You really worked your ass off on this case. Derek seemed a bit worried about you, while Hotch and Prentiss were pretty happy with your efforts. Spencer seemed restless, and the bags under his eyes were even darker than usual. His mind was a wonder that worked in mysterious ways, but you could tell he was just really agitated these days. Not telling you what he wanted to tell you, probably took more efforts and energy from him than an average person could possibly understand. You wanted him to go into a peaceful sleep, to forget about what was troubling him. Even in times like this, you just wanted him to be okay. Things were probably complicated for him right now. You somehow managed to get over the fact that he kissed Maggie, and tried to focus on the rest of the chat. It was wrong to listen to people's private conversations, and you lacked context. What they were talking about could mean a hundred different things, and you would know soon enough anyway. The rest of the team was slowly drifting off to sleep, and you were trying to as well, but you could feel Spencer nervously glance at you pretty regularly. At some point, you just gave up, let out a deep sigh, opened your eyes, and motioned him to come join you on the couch.

He sat heavily next to you. You just stayed together in silence for a moment. You didn't want him to start to talk. Because that would be it. You would be having the conversation you had been dreading for a while. Eventually, he had to start talking, and you felt your heart beating like crazy in your chest. "Go ahead Spence, break my heart." was all you could think about. Instead...

"Listen y/n, I know this isn't ideal. But... you have been avoiding me for a while now and... I don't even know if you want me in your life or not anymore. I just... we texted over the holidays and everything, and we hugged like nothing happened when we got back to work but... Things aren't... Things have been weird for a while now, and... I hate it. I hate to see us drift apart like this." You were listening to every single word that was coming out of his mouth as carefully as you could, like someone waiting for their verdict at court. You felt like you were going to get the death penalty somehow. He paused, before starting to talk again. "I don't know what to think anymore. I've been trying to understand, but it seems like my brain... can't function properly when it comes to you." You were going to die from a heart attack, right here and there. On the outside, you tried to put on your best poker face, but hearing Spencer utter those words made your eyes betray you, you were sure of it. You felt exactly like this when it came to him too. How could two people feel things so similarly, and still not understand one another ? He looked so nervous, as he was looking for the right words to say exactly what his heart had been meaning to tell you. " I guess I'm just... I think... Jesus, why is this so complicated ? Just... say something, y/n. Anything."

You honestly didn't know what to say. He said so much and so little at the same time. What was there for you to say ?

"I... I don't know what you want from me Spence... I know things have been weird, and I'm... I'm sorry, okay ? I've been acting strange for the past couple of months, I know it. I just... Of course I want you in my life. And I hate that we don't even know how to talk to each other anymore... You said you wanted to talk about your date ? What does it have to do with anything ?" You tried the innocent card, but Spencer wasn't biting. "Come on y/n... no more mind games. I was trying to get there slowly but... You're not giving me much of an alternative, are you ?" He stared at you, more directly than he had in a while. You hadn't noticed, but he got closer too. You had to fight the urge to drag his face to yours to kiss him feverishly. He was so right, your minds just wouldn't work properly around each other. Something about the way you were looking at him might have given him some newly found determination, because he carried on without letting you out of his sight at any moment, shifting his gaze between your tired eyes and your slightly parted lips. The nervousness was still there, but he was going to say whatever it was he wanted to say, no matter the consequences now.

"As you know, I went on a date with Maggie. It was great. I wanted to have a good time with her. I really did. Everything worked out just fine. It was almost too cliche, how smoothly the evening went." You felt your heart sink in your chest. Yup, there it was, you thought. The end of all hope. "She was wearing this really pretty red dress, and at first, all I could think about was how you have a really pretty red dress too, that you don't put on nearly as often as you should. But then I thought, hey, you're on a date with her, with Maggie. Y/n even seemed happy for you, even though you thought she kind of hated her. So focus on her, focus on Maggie. And I did. I tried." He paused, looking for something in your eyes. Were you supposed to understand where he was getting at with this story ? "I... we kissed. Okay ? I kissed her, after I walked her back home. It was really romantic. The sky was filled with stars, and there was a nice little breeze... I- It was perfect." You couldn't help it, but you wanted to cry. You felt like you couldn't breathe anymore. Why was he telling you this ? It took eveything you had in you to keep listening to him as calmly as possible. "And then... I don't know why, I just... I couldn't... You're not supposed to think so much, when you're kissing someone, are you ? It just makes sense, and you go with the flow. And so... I thought I could kiss her, touch her, and hold her. I wanted to try to take my mind off of... things. But it felt... wrong ? It just felt weird, like something wasn't... what it was supposed to be ?" And then, the hope subtly came back.

You saw how hard it was for him to express himself. What was the point of all of this ? What was he really saying ? You wanted to scream that question, to just demand an answer from him. Your emotions were all over the place. He had a date with Maggie. It was perfect. She was wearing a little red dress, that looked like the one you put on, when you went out of your way to impress him when you went out sometimes. But he had a hard time focusing on the present moment, even as he kissed her, because... ? "What are you saying Spence ?" you murmured as softly as you could, contrasting with the inner turmoil you were facing. He tilted his head to the side, looking almost desperate, silently asking with his eyes why you couldn't understand the true meaning of what he was trying to say.

Behind you, you felt Hotch and JJ move in their seat. The jet was almost back at Quantico. Spencer saw them, and you saw him slouch a little. He looked more exhausted than ever. The determination in his eyes seemed to have abandoned him. "Nothing, y/n. Forget it. I had a date with Maggie, we kissed, but it didn't work out in the end. It's okay. It doesn't matter now." It mattered. You saw how much the whole conversation meant to him. You thought you could understand now. You felt like it was starting to make sense. But you had to hear him say it, otherwise you would never truly believe it. "Spence..." you tried to call, as he stood up. "We're nearly home, and we need some rest. I'm gonna get my things now."

When the jet landed, Spencer barely acknowledged your presence. He went back home as quietly as possible, without letting anyone know he was leaving. Derek helped you with your luggage "You look like you've seen a ghost. I don't understand, didn't he tell you about his date with Maggie ?" You hesitated : "He tried... I don't really know what he was trying to say." He gave you a soft smile and answered "Yes you do y/n. Come on, let me drive you home."

The ride home was pretty quiet. You were both tired. When you got there, Morgan and you sat in silence for a moment, before he told you : "Listen, I know me and Garcia have done enough already when it comes to the two of you. I don't want to overstep on your boundaries. But I feel like you guys just need a little extra push, otherwise it'll take ages." You laughed a little "I thought you said we were going to find our way back to each other at one point or another, no matter how much time it would take ?" He chuckled "Yeah yeah, I know what I said, but listen... what I understood from this entire situation, is that kissing that woman made him realise just how much he wanted you. The only problem with her, no matter how perfect the whole date was, was that she wasn't you. He thought he could be with someone else, he thought he could give her a chance. After all, you showed him you supported his decision, thumbs up and all that bullshit, right ? He kissed her, felt like shit, tried to kiss her some more to get over that weird feeling, started to think about you, got into it, but then she said something, and that threw him off." You were raising your eyebrows at him, questioning what he was reporting. "Hey, me and pretty boy talk a lot, alright ? And what he doesn't tell me, I understand. I see right through him. The rest is just me being good at my job. The only way the kiss kind of worked, was if he was thinking about you. Trust me, I know that. I've been there. You can try and pretend for a little while, until it doesn't work anymore, and you end up feeling like shit because the poor girl doesn't deserve that." You just stayed there, numb with fatigue and the overwhelming nature of what Derek was telling you. You told him about the conversation you overheard between the two of them "I think she was calling him to try and understand why it didn't work out between them, even after that perfect date. Knowing Spencer, he didn't want to hurt her feelings, and he didn't tell her what was really going on." It wasn't like you did either. What WAS really going on ? Morgan answered "Yeah, he vaguely told me about it. My guess ? She knows it's about you. She just needed to hear him say it. Just like you do. But deep down, you know what this all means. You know what's going on." After a little moment, you admitted "You're right. And I knew what he was trying to say, but I just... froze. I can't really... fully comprehend any of it right now. I think I just need some sleep." You paused, before breathing out with a soft smile : "He tried... he really did..." Morgan answered "Now it's your time to try, pretty lady." You smiled at him, not entirely sure whether that whole conversation was a dream or not, and headed back home to get some restorative sleep.

Chapter Thirteen is here !

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thirstyforcharacters · 4 years

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Tequila (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

Summary: Every person has a soulmate. When your soulmate experiences pain, so do you, and any bruises, scars, or other markings that they get appear on your skin. Or, the story of how aliens attacking Las Vegas was the best thing to ever happen to you.

Notes: Hello! I already did a very similar soulmate AU for Sam Wilson (which you can read here), but I love soulmate AU’s so much that I decided to do one for Bucky, too! Hopefully, I made them different enough that they don’t seem too repetitive. Did I write this while I was supposed to be watching a documentary on Bach for music history? Maybe. But I think this was a much better use of my time. Hope you enjoy! (no y/n, no pronouns)

Warnings: canon typical violence, alien invasion, blood (not too much tho), car crash

WC: 1.9 k

For all of your life, you couldn’t feel your left arm.

When you started to crawl, your parents noticed you only used your right arm to pull yourself forward while your left would hang limply at your side. Your parents brought you to the doctor, deeply concerned, but when she examined your arm, she found nothing wrong. No x-rays showed broken or deformed bones, and no MRI’s showed any problems in the brain. By all medical standards, you should be able to move your left arm. You just couldn’t. Everyone hoped that it would go away, but to their chagrin, it remained unmoving throughout your childhood. You obviously knew your arm was there since you could clearly see it, but you couldn’t feel the nerve endings inside it. When you poked your arm with your other finger, you felt absolutely nothing. And weirdly enough, your family said it was always cold to the touch, no matter how warm the rest of your body was.

You had a feeling that it had something to do with your soulmate, and when you reached adulthood (specifically around 24), you were almost positive that was the reason. You often woke up with random injuries that you knew you didn’t give yourself. Gunshot wounds, deep slashes, broken bones, and large bruises were commonly branded on your skin. You were positive that if your soulmate was getting shot at every other night, then they almost definitely had some sort of damage done to their arm that affected your own. But if they had had this condition since you were born, how old were they? That was always a question that kind of weirded you out. You didn’t particularly want to be “meant to be” with some wrinkly, old person! Especially if they were somehow getting themselves into this much trouble. And now that you thought about it, none of these injuries were on your (or their) left arm. How could that be if they’ve literally been hurt everywhere else on their body?

When you weren’t in and out of the hospital with randomly serious injuries, you were quite busy cooking up a storm in Turkey, Tacos, and Tequila, your restaurant in Las Vegas. You and your best friend, Nicolás, had opened it three years ago; you were the head chef and he ran the business side of things. The two of you had talked about opening a restaurant together since you were teenagers, so both of you had moved to Vegas together after college/culinary school. Together, you found that you were an unstoppable team, and within a year of opening, you were one of the most popular restaurants throughout all of Vegas! Most times, because you were so busy, your soulmate problem stayed in the back of your mind. But every once in a while, a bruise would appear on your eye or a large cut down the length of your leg, and you would be reminded again.

Nic, as you called him, already found his soulmate. Oliver had moved in with you a year ago, and joined you side by side in the kitchen. You became almost as close with him as you had with Nic. They were adorable together, and never made you feel like the third wheel. There were some times, though, where you found yourself a little bit jealous that they had found each other so quickly, and that neither of them had ever suddenly started bleeding all over a nearly complete order of mango fish tacos.

Whenever you got a little down about it, Nic would always clap you on the shoulder and say, “You’ll find them someday. And when you do, break their nose. They deserve it for the hell they’re accidentally putting you through.”

It never failed to make you laugh. You had half a mind to do just that when you met the love of your life. You just didn’t know when that would be.

On yet another hot and dry Nevada night, you were closing up at the restaurant (or morning, you supposed, since it was nearly 1 am). Nic, Oliver, and your other employees had gone home already, so it was only you that remained. You turned off the lights and locked the door. You pushed your way through the drunken crowds and tourists on the street and made your way to your car. As you were opening the door, you could hear gasps of shock coming from the crowd of people roaming the streets. You looked up and saw an eerie flash of green across the sky, and a strange-looking, portal appeared in the sky! Shrieks of fear permeated the air as grotesque, reptilian creatures began spilling from the portal.

Frantically, you flung yourself into your car and turned over the engine, hoping to escape the clutches of these aliens. Though your apartment was in the opposite direction of the portal, as per usual, there was a decent amount of traffic, so you weren’t sure how good your chances were. But you figured you’d at least be safer in your car than exposed outside of it.

You were able to pull into traffic and weave through it fairly well, making good use of the side streets that only the locals knew about. But the creatures were overtaking the city faster than you could drive. You knew you didn’t have long before they caught up with you.

Just when that thought popped into your head, a blinding flash of light appeared in your rearview mirror. A loud bang, almost like a cannon, sounded, and through your mirror, you saw a truck hurtling toward you at breakneck speed! You attempted to swerve out of the way, but the truck crashed into your car, shoving it against a street light! The driver’s side of your car crumpled against the lamppost, and the glass in your window shattered at the contact. You attempted to cover your face with your hands, but a piece of glass still managed to make a pretty deep cut above your left eye, as well as a few pieces of shrapnel sinking into your legs. The whiplash from the contact damaged your neck as well; pain spread throughout your neck and back. All you could do was sob in agony. You had never felt this much pain in your life.

Your hand was trembling as you unbuckled your seatbelt, but you found yourself unable to leave your car! The driver’s side door was crushed, the truck was smushed against your passenger door, and there was no way you would be able to climb out of the backseat, nor lift yourself out of the broken window with the injuries you sustained. You were trapped. You waited for a little bit, until some of the chaos surrounding you died down; even in your damaged state, you knew that no one would be able to hear you even if you screamed for help as loudly as you could.

You strained your ears, and were able to hear gunfire, commands being shouted, and the hissing of these reptilian creatures. Eventually, instead of the noise of a battle, you could hear voices trying to dig people out of the rubble. Somehow, they sounded familiar, but you couldn’t place how. Well, if they were rescuing people, you figured they were your only chance.

“Help,” you screamed, “I’m trapped in my car! Please help me!”

You heard footsteps sprinting in your direction and a voice call, “Don’t worry, we’ll get you out of there!”

You watched in amazement as the truck on your passenger’s side was surrounded by a glowing, red presence, and moved out of the way! It had to be the Avengers! Who else would be able to do something that crazy? You were brought out of your thoughts by your car being dragged away from the pole, making you jump. A face popped up in your shattered window. He was gorgeous; bright, blue eyes, short, chestnut hair, and a warm smile. He took hold of the broken door and wrenched it from its fastenings.

“Hi. My name is Bucky Barnes. This is Wanda Maximoff,” the man said, gesturing back to a woman wearing scarlet, “we’re going to get you out of here, okay?”

“Okay,” you replied, relieved, “thank you so much!”

He smiled again, “Oh, it’s no problem. You should probably stay there until the EMT’s get here. Moving might make your injuries even worse.”

You nodded slightly in reply, but the pull in your neck made you groan in pain.

He winced, “Try not to move that, either. You may not be bleeding there, but I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

“Okay.”

“Here, let me help you with that. I can at least stop the bleeding,” he offered, gesturing to your forehead and leg.

“Oh, thank you!” you answered.

He nodded and reached for some bandages he had in his jacket with his metal arm. His left arm. Suddenly, you noticed things you didn’t notice before. He also had a large cut above his left eye, in the same spot as your injury. It wasn’t bleeding, though, perhaps because of his enhancements. You noticed him moving his neck in a circular motion, seemingly to stretch it out. He had holes in his pants and small puncture wounds on his legs, in the same spots where glass was sticking out of you. Again, though, they were already healing. Could that be why you had never felt your arm before? Because your soulmate’s was metal? It would make complete sense.

“Are you okay?”

You didn’t even realize you had zoned out until Bucky addressed you. He was gently cleaning the wound on your forehead.

“Yes,” you whispered, fixated on the wound on his forehead.

His eyebrow raised, “Are you sure? You seem a little out of it.”

“I-I’m fine. I just noticed something kind of strange. I think the cut on your forehead matches mine.”

He touched his forehead, “Oh, yeah, I forgot about that with the adrenaline and everything. Only got it maybe 20 minutes ago.”

“That’s when my car crashed. And you’re having neck pain, like me,” you murmured, “and your arm is metal. I’ve never been able to feel my arm.”

His eyes widened, “Really? You think we’re meant to be?”

“Maybe,” you replied.

He nodded, “It seems likely. What’s your name?”

You gave him your name and he smiled again.

“I’ve been waiting for this for a century.”

You giggled softly, “I guess that explains why I’ve been experiencing this since I was born. I was afraid you’d be gross and wrinkly.”

He chuckled, “Well, hopefully you don’t think I’m either of those things.”

“Definitely not.”

The EMT’s arrived then. Bucky stepped aside and the medics removed you from your car.

As you were being loaded into the ambulance, Bucky approached you.

“How can I get in contact with you after this?”

“Just come by Turkey, Tacos, and Tequila. It’s my restaurant, I’m almost always there,” you told him.

“Okay. I’ll drop by sometime soon, when you’re better of course.”

“Looking forward to it.”

“Me too.”

As he was walking away, you couldn’t stop the grin forming on your lips. Sure, what had happened to you today was terrible. But you knew you would heal, and now, you had also finally met your soulmate. No wonder why you were randomly injured all of the time! If today was any indicator of what the rest of your relationship would look like, though, you’d probably need all of that tequila you were selling for yourself.

#bucky barnes #winter soldier #marvel #mcu #Bucky barnes x reader #winter soldier x reader #Bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes fanfiction #Bucky barnes fic #winter soldier fluff #winter soldier fanfiction #winter soldier fic #x reader #x reader fanfiction #x reader fic #x reader fluff #soulmate au

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unjourjeseraideretourpresdetoi · 3 years

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9/10 Chapter 1 - Malt

I started writing a bit of a Harry/Kim fanfic??? Because why the hell not. Anyway, here’s the first part of it. I’m kind of just making it up as I go with a few specific ideas scattered in my head. Spoilers for various plot points. Here’s a sample before the cut. Feel free to send any suggestions or critique, since it’s been ages since I have done much writing. Still working on getting a feel for Harry’s skill voices.

YOU — After a little while, your voice finally returns. “Why are you so nice to me?” KIM KITSURAGI — He takes a long pause and leans back in his chair. “I don’t know. Maybe I’m just stubborn too.” PERCEPTION — You turn to look at him as you finally untangle yourself from your chrysalis of arms, and he looks different somehow. You don’t know if it’s your eyes being sore as hell, or the dull ambiance of the hazy bar lights. Somehow, he looks so light. His bomber jacket is slightly pulled up by his folded arms behind his head, seeming to break the bulky illusion it usually projects over his slim torso. Like suddenly seeing a gap in a suit of armor. SUGGESTION — You should tickle him. ESPRIT DE CORPS — He will kill you in mere seconds if you do that.

ANCIENT REPTILIAN BRAIN — Hello again, Harry boy. The midnight train to Fuck-All-Borough is boarding once again, and you’ve pre-paid your seat. YOU — Okay. ANCIENT REPTILIAN BRAIN — Yes, that’s right. Let’s drive right into the sweet, succulent sopor of oblivion. Let no feelings come to pass, no sensations, just the pure bliss of the radiating void. YOU — But aren’t you here? ANCIENT REPTILIAN BRAIN — That’s just it, Harry. I’m nothing. I am the pale of the mind, I am the deafening silence, I am the black canvas that stretches taut when you close your eyes. I am the swaddle that cradles the mind and the ocean you will drown in. I am born of you and someday, you will die in me. LIMBIC SYSTEM — But not yet—something still stirs in this weighted sack. Something heavy, and sore, and full of noise that steadily rises into a crescendo.

PERCEPTION — And then you open your eyes. And it fucking hurts. PAIN THRESHOLD — Dear god, it’s like a jackhammer on a pogo stick on another jackhammer. PERCEPTION — You realize there’s a smell you haven’t smelled in a few weeks now that’s uncomfortably emanating from your form. Al Gul. COMPOSURE — Oh. You finally did it again. You fucked up.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY — So we got a little smashed. Who cares. You know what’s a great way to stop feeling sorry about it? Getting smashed again. AUTHORITY — No. YOU — Why am I always fucking things up? HALF LIGHT — Because life is terrifying. LOGIC — He’s right about that one.

YOU — What was I doing last night? ELECTROCHEMISTRY — Like I said, getting smashed. CONCEPTUALIZATION — Painting the world with a palette of sugary booze and sad, old rock and roll for sad, old rockstars.

YOU — Who did I hurt this time? DRAMA — Mostly, just yourself. VOLITION — A small miracle, if so. You’re used to self-immolation. YOU — But why? Why now? We were doing better. ELECTROCHEMISTRY — Speak for yourself. LOGIC — You do know that you can’t just ride out two decades of practiced chemical drowning on a workhorse of piety and guilt, right?

PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT — This ceaseless dependency on cocktails of narcotics and spirits has weakened you shamefully. PERCEPTION — You look around your dimly lit bedroom, eyes half-closed anyway to quiet the searing pain in your cerebral cortex, slowly putting the pieces back together as the rest of your body wakes up.

YOU — I was having a shitty day. I was stuck on a case and my mind just kept drifting into half-remembered past mistakes. After work, I decided to do it. I called her again, like an idiot. I thought to myself, I can do this, I can let her go, and I’ll tell her I’m finally over it (almost). INLAND EMPIRE — But that is not how it went. She had prepared for the next time you would call. The last time was terrifying enough, torn awake at 3 in the morning, listening to your desperate lies, digging through past trauma.

YOU — “Hey, uh, Dora. It’s Harry. I’m sorry—“ PERCEPTION — A sharp sigh breaks your concentration. DORA — “Let me stop you there, Harry. Because I’m tired of this. You’ve been doing this six years now but it feels at least twice as long. So since you can’t put an end to it, I am. Don’t call again. You won’t be reaching me at this number anymore.” PERCEPTION — Before you can react, there’s silence. And a dial tone. YOU — Fuck. Fuck shit fuck.

COMPOSURE — You stumble through dialing the number again, fingers slipping the first time from nerves and connecting the second, with no answer. You try again. And again. And then you stop trying. It takes everything in you not to smash the phone where it sits. PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT — You need to smash something. If we can’t smash the phone, we HAVE to smash something. REACTION SPEED — Your feet are already taking you away from the pay phone, one thought ahead of the rest of you. You barely round the corner into the alley before you plant your fist full force into the nearest brick wall. PAIN THRESHOLD — Your hand spirals into a fractal of pain, blood dripping down your busted knuckles, slowly running down the dirtied wall. You can feel the cracking of your knuckles, like a brittle lacework of glass strapped down only by the leather of your worn-out hands. HALF-LIGHT — Get out of here. ELECTROCHEMISTRY — Now that you’re done smashing your fist, it’s time to get the rest of you smashed. YOU — “Fuck it. I’m getting a drink.”

CONCEPTUALIZATION — From there, it was a blaze of sweet, hot fire down your throat and back up again, run ragged from shitty karaoke and mild alcohol poisoning. But the film reel is running thin, and you’re struggling to get anything else from your memory bank.

YOU — How did I get back? I don’t remember walking home. ESPRIT DE CORPS — You asked for help.

HAND-EYE COORDINATION — You pat at your pockets, searching for the right one, not quite remembering what you’re doing but knowing the answer you thought of for a fraction of a second is somewhere in there. After a moment, you find it, carefully tucked away but nevertheless damp with sweat from your slacks.

“If you need to talk— 005-93-88-651 Lt. Kitsuragi”

INTERFACING — Your hands are a bit shaky, but you dial out the number on the slip of paper in your hands. PERCEPTION — It rings once. Twice. A third time. And then you hear the receiver click. KIM KITSURAGI — “Hello?”

SHIVERS — In a small apartment in Central Jamrock, not too far from Precinct 41, and not too far from the Jamrock Public Library, Lieutenant Kitsuragi sits on his bed, some light reading in hand, winding down for the night. His new apartment is still filled with cardboard boxes here and there, in no particular hurry to be unpacked. The lights of the city pierce through like little pinpricks in the glare of his bedside window, still insistent on their presence even in the quiet of a cool spring night.

YOU — “Hi, Kim, I uh…” Your voice shakes and you lose your words for a moment, because some part of you really didn’t expect him to pick up. KIM KITSURAGI — “Detective? It’s after midnight.” DRAMA — It’s already that late? You must’ve woken him up. A bad start. YOU — “Uhh… sorry, I uh. Wasn’t looking at the clock. We can just talk tomorrow—“ KIM KITSURAGI — “You’re drunk.” COMPOSURE — Fuck. There’s nothing coming out of your mouth anymore. Another bad phone call. It takes everything in you not to cry. You do anyway.

KIM KITSURAGI — “Where are you?” YOU — You manage to croak out enough to say “Sunshine’s Hideaway. Bar on 12th street.” KIM KITSURAGI — He pauses a moment, thinking. “...I’ll be there in a few minutes.” ESPRIT DE CORPS — He’s thinking about the best route there. LOGIC — He doesn’t have his motor carriage right now. He’s going to have to walk it, and it’s cold out. YOU — “I… you don’t have to do that, I’ll just—“ KIM KITSURAGI — “Harrier, just shut up and park your ass somewhere warm until I get there.” AUTHORITY — He’s doing it! He’s doing the eyebrow thing but on the phone! I didn’t know he could do that! YOU — “Yessir.”

It probably takes about 15 minutes for him to arrive, though each minute feels like five. You feel like a child waiting for their parents to come pick them up at school. You’re pretty sure everyone is staring at you. You can’t really see through the blurry bokeh of your stupid tears. But you can just barely make out the door of the bar opening, followed by a silhouette marked by orange slipping through. Lieutenant Kitsuragi spots you after a moment, and you quickly try to wipe your eyes like you haven’t just been crying the whole time as he approaches. KIM KITSURAGI — You can hear him pull at the chair next to yours, calmly settling into place. “Hello, detective.”

YOU — You try to pull up some words, but you just find yourself nodding appreciatively as you try not to grimace. COMPOSURE — Somehow, the moment his eyes fall on you, you feel like someone just ripped the rug right out from under your feet. You slide down on your elbows, face pressing down onto the table in humiliation, locking your hands together on the back of your neck, like you’re trying to hide in a little tomb of your own arms.

KIM KITSURAGI — You hear the lieutenant take a deep breath and sigh. He unzips his jacket, stifling him in the warm interior of the bar. “That rough, huh?”

YOU — You don’t want to say anything, but your mouth opens before you can stop it. “I’m such an asshole, Kim. I keep fucking everything up, over and over, no matter how hard I try. I just. Keep falling back into my bullshit.” Your voice shakes as you get the words out. “Is this just as good as it’s gonna get at this point? Have I fucked up entirely too much, entirely too long, am I just… this constant trainwreck now and forever? How much of myself have I wasted away into nothing, doing this shit? Acting like a child. Acting like an animal. It feels sometimes like all I have is more downturns. More hurting people. More hurting myself. And I’m so, so fucking tired… and I don’t wanna do this anymore. If this is how it is, I don’t want to… be.” Your voice stops making any noise by the time you reach the end of that.

HALF-LIGHT — And then there’s silence. You know this silence. It’s the sound of someone deciding they’re sick of your shit. This is the moment he realizes he really, truly does not know you and you don’t know him. And he knows he has to get out of here, before you take him down with you, like you’ve done to so many others. EMPATHY — But then there’s a hard pat on your back. Thumping against a hollow drum, ringing through your electrified lungs. KIM KITSURAGI — “It’s okay, detective.” PERCEPTION — His voice is soft and careful.

KIM KITSURAGI — “Honestly, it’s astonishing you’ve held out this long. It’s barely been two months since Martinaise. Since the Whirling. Throughout my time in the RCM, I have seen many good officers break over less. I didn’t know you before March. I don’t really know what kind of officer you might’ve been before that. But who I am familiar with is the Lieutenant Double-Yefreitor Harrier Du Bois, the officer I met two months ago, who is probably the strangest man I’ve ever met, but he is also the most relentless, the most stubborn, the most annoying, and honestly, the most sincere man I’ve ever known to grace the RCM. He is a man who cares enough to find the time in his busy workload to help people he just met, whose troubles he sniffs out like a bloodhound, offering them the help that no one else would. No matter how trivial, or how complicated. I don’t know if this selflessness is something you picked up because you don’t know how to help yourself, but I do know there’s a real effort in there. There’s a real, true love for the people of Revachol. And I know how much this job takes out of people. You can’t turn every mistake around in just a few months. Probably not even a few years. But I think what matters is that you are trying, and I can see how much it hurts you to feel like you’ve failed in that. Please don’t think that tonight is a sign that you can’t do better. Tonight is a dam breaking in the expectations you’ve built up for yourself after staring down your own potential.”

PERCEPTION — Are you laughing? Or is that crying? INLAND EMPIRE — It feels like there are ghosts escaping your every breath. Like parts of you are desperately rushing to the surface, tearing through flesh and bone, clawing at a chance for freedom. The lieutenant’s arm still rests heavily on your back, the only anchor your spirit has left as it dissipates into vapor and rushes through the night.

VOLITION — You cry until there’s nothing left in you anymore.

KIM KITSURAGI — After a moment, he realizes you’re staring at him, then adjusts in his seat, leaning forward and settling his arms in front of him. “How are you feeling? Do you think you can walk?” YOU — “I uhh... probably. My leg doesn’t hurt as much right now.” KIM KITSURAGI — “Mm.” He mutters, getting up from his seat. “At least there is that small grace. How far is your place?” PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT — You’re pretty sure he’s offering to walk you back. You’re not a child, you can get home perfectly fine on your own, thank you. YOU — “Ten blocks.” COMPOSURE — You quickly try to rise to your feet, but it becomes immediately apparent that the floor has been replaced with a rickety old carousel, and you promptly lose your footing. REACTION SPEED — Before you can even attempt to figure out what is happening, you realize that Lieutenant Kitsuragi has wrapped one of his arms around your back. PERCEPTION — His grip is tight and you can feel the muscles tensing in his forearm against your back. Once again, its presence stabilizes you, a beacon for your twisting senses to converge upon. It takes a few moments for everything to slot back into the correct place. KIM KITSURAGI — “Are you sure you’re alright, detective?” DRAMA — His concern is quite sincere. YOU — “I just gotta sleep this off.” You say as you steady yourself back upright.

KIM KITSURAGI — “Let’s get going, then.” He nods to you as he zips up his jacket again, then stretches his right arm out behind your back. PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT — No, dude, fuck that shit, you’re sick of people propping you up because of your stupid leg, we can do this shit on our own! YOU — “Thanks.” You steady yourself against his arm and extend your left against his back as well. PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT — Hey, what! DRAMA — By now, the lieutenant knows when you’re just trying to bullshit and act like a tough guy. It’s time to drop the act, for now. He knows you need the help. You wouldn’t have called him if you didn’t.

CONCEPTUALIZATION — That’s all I got. The rest is just black. YOU — Ugghhhhhh damn it. Like Kim hasn’t seen enough of me making an ass of myself by now. EMPATHY — On the bright side, his mental image of you can probably only improve. Hopefully. Maybe. YOU — Whatever. What time is it? PERCEPTION — You look around for your alarm clock, and find it knocked onto the floor beside your bed. It says 9:53. YOU — Shit. Did I have work today? ESPRIT DE CORPS — No. Your hours have been temporarily reduced during your recovery period. YOU — Right. Okay. I should probably get up and do something about this headache.

You throw the blanket off of your body and gradually roll yourself out of bed, bones creaking with aches and pains, limping across the room and dodging various discarded clothes and shoes that litter the floor. You twist the doorknob and open your bedroom door, making your way across the living room, towards the bathroom.

REACTION SPEED — Wait! There’s someone… on the couch? PERCEPTION — A figure of a man lies on the couch, covered with an ugly patchwork blanket, still sleeping. Next to the couch, an orange bomber jacket rests. Wait… is that Kim? HALF-LIGHT — OH MY GOD, you’re half-naked, GET BACK IN YOUR ROOM AND PUT YOUR PANTS ON BEFORE YOU HUMILIATE YOURSELF. SAVOIR FAIRE — You quickly backpedal, trying not to make any noise, and press your door shut firmly, hoping that you weren’t noticed. YOU — Why is he here??? I thought he just walked me home? HALF-LIGHT — Stop thinking and get your damn armor on! VOLITION — Armor? We didn’t find any armor pants in Martinaise. DRAMA — He’s being metaphorical. You hurriedly stuff your legs into the closest pair of semi-clean trousers before peeking out the door again.

PERCEPTION — The lieutenant is still asleep on the couch. SAVOIR FAIRE — Alright, go time. You sneak through the living room and into the bathroom, carefully trying not to creak the medicine cabinet as you get yourself some painkillers. ELECTROCHEMISTRY — Down the whole bottle! Party time! VOLITION — No. We are not doing that.

After taking the recommended dose of painkillers, you peek out into the living room again. PERCEPTION — Lieutenant Kitsuragi is still resting quietly on your couch, lying on his back, tightly wrapped in the ugly spare blanket from your linen closet. You suddenly realize there’s something different about the living room… such as, there’s less garbage everywhere. EMPATHY — Did he clean the room up for you? Or maybe for himself?

You exit the bathroom and slowly cross the living room, stopping halfway through, looking at the lieutenant again. PERCEPTION — He looks peaceful, and his face relaxed and still. With his glasses off, you notice more of the shape of his brow and his tired eyes. His breathing is slow and measured, with quiet sighs. One of his arms dangles out from under the blanket, his hand just barely off the floor. His fingers are thin, bony, weathered from work, with little scars and blemishes that have mostly faded away.

SUGGESTION — Hold it.

YOU — What?

No one replies. You stare for a moment, feeling a tension in your chest. Curiosity snakes through your skin. You step closer towards the couch, then slowly crouch down, meeting the lieutenant’s eye level.

SUGGESTION — Hold it. Please.

You reach forward, and the lieutenant suddenly stirs.

KIM KITSURAGI — “Mmnh…” His eyes flutter open. “Oh, good morning detective.” YOU — “Uh, yeah. Good morning.” You casually withdraw your hand and rest it on your leg. “Why are you here…?” KIM KITSURAGI — “You don’t remember?” He asks with a hint of concern. YOU — “Well, mostly. I remember you helped me walk home, but after that, it’s fuzzy.” KIM KITSURAGI — “Ah, so just the normal amount of alcohol-induced forgetfulness.” The lieutenant nods at you, then sits up on the couch. He reaches for his glasses on the side table, then folds them open. “I decided to stay here on the couch, just in case...” He trails off. EMPATHY — To keep an eye on you. In case you started doing worse.

YOU — “...Thanks. I’m sorry for interrupting your night.” KIM KITSURAGI — “No need to apologize,” he says with a slight smile. “Honesty, I’m… glad you asked for help instead of isolating yourself. That would have been…” He pauses, looking for the correct words. “Not ideal. What time is it, anyway?” YOU — “Bit after 10.” KIM KITSURAGI — “Already that late? Good thing I’m not working today.”

YOU — “Sorry to make you clean up after me.” You say, glancing across the room. KIM KITSURAGI — “Well, no, it’s not your fault or anything. You didn’t expect company.” He seems a bit self-conscious suddenly, looking away. “I suppose it’s more like I don’t know how to leave a mess alone.” SUGGESTION — You’re not sure which mess he means—the apartment, or you. EMPATHY — It’s both. You feel a slight embarrassment tingling across the surface of your skin and decide to change the topic.

YOU — “You said you have the day off?” KIM KITSURAGI — “Yes, I have a few errands to run, part of some loose ends to clean up for my transfer to 41. But I can get those done any time during the day.” SUGGESTION — You should— YOU — “Do you wanna go get breakfast? I know a good place down the street.” You say it before you can even finish thinking. KIM KITSURAGI — The lieutenant sits quietly for a moment, adjusting his glasses. “Hmmm… sure, why the hell not. I’ve got some time to spare.” SUGGESTION — Jackpot! YOU — “I’m gonna go get dressed, you’re welcome to the bathroom if you need it.” KIM KITSURAGI — “Sounds good.”

You walk into your bedroom and shut the door behind you.

CONCEPTUALIZATION — Time to get stylish! LOGIC — Not that stylish, it’s just breakfast. Don’t make it weird. INLAND EMPIRE — Hey, weird is our thing! YOU — I think I’m just gonna wear whatever’s clean and doesn’t smell repulsive. CONCEPTUALIZATION — Oh, sorry, didn’t know we were Boring Cop today.

After taking a quick glance at what’s available, you decide to just go with a simple, pastel gingham button-up and a fresh pair of jeans. Glancing at your coats, you grab a blue blazer with a checkered lining.

PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT — Oh my god you look like a nerd. RHETORIC — No, he looks smart. Ready to have a battle of the wits. PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT — Yeah, like I said, A NERD!

You quietly ignore the high school bullying going on inside your head as you exit the room. Lieutenant Kitsuragi glances at you from next to the couch, in the middle of putting on his jacket.

KIM KITSURAGI — “No disco today?” He says with a slight smile. YOU — “All my disco’s due for the wash.” KIM KITSURAGI — He tugs at his collar and settles his jacket into place. “It’s almost odd to see you in something so… tame.” YOU — “I mean, I still got the jackets from Fuck the World and Piss F****t if you change your mind.” KIM KITSURAGI — “Somehow I doubt the waitstaff would be understanding of the artist’s statements at breakfast.” He lets out a small chuckle. EMPATHY — There’s a surprising softness in his response. KIM KITSURAGI — “I’m all set to go if you are.”

The two of you head out of your apartment and set out down the road, your destination just two blocks away. The streets of Jamrock are already lively with pedestrians and motor carriages milling about. Before long, you arrive at a staircase with a weathered, striped canopy hanging above, quietly announcing its presence with simple text saying “The Lazy Daisy”. You and the lieutenant head down the stairs and enter the little eatery, pushing past the door and being met with the sweet and salty smells of this morning’s meals. You wave to the waitress and take a seat at a little table in the corner.

KIM KITSURAGI — The lieutenant takes his seat across from you, his eyes studying the surroundings. “You know, I never noticed this place before.” YOU — “Yeah, it’s easy to miss amongst all the other businesses on this road.” KIM KITSURAGI — “But you remembered it?” YOU — “I think my feet did.”

WAITRESS — A cheerful, pudgy woman in her forties wearing a striped apron walks over to the table, little menu books in hand. “Good morning officers! Thanks for stopping by the Lazy Daisy today. Can I get you something to drink while you look over the menu?”

YOU — “You wanna get a pot of coffee, Kim?” KIM KITSURAGI — “Sure, that sounds fine.” WAITRESS — “Alright, I’ll give you a moment to look over the menu!”

You already know what you’re going to order: skillet hash with a side of toast. You watch the lieutenant look the menu over and find yourself wondering what he’ll order. YOU — “You seem like an Eggs Benedict kind of guy to me.” KIM KITSURAGI — “I was thinking about trying this malted waffle actually. It’s been a while since I had a good waffle.” He replies, not looking up from the menu. “But you are correct, I do enjoy a good Eggs Benedict.”

YOU — “Can’t go wrong with either one.” WAITRESS — The waitress returns, a full pot of coffee in one hand and two mugs in the other. She gently places the pot of coffee at the center of the little table and places the mugs down on either side. “Alright, so what can I get for you boys?” YOU — “I’ll go for the skillet hash with a side of dry toast. And the lieutenant here…” KIM KITSURAGI — “I’ll take a malted waffle with a side of bacon.” WAITRESS — “Sounds great! I’ll bring it out when it’s ready.”

You turn your attention to the coffee and partially fill both of the mugs, absent-mindedly adding a sugar cube and a little cup of half-and-half to yours and stirring, watching the color spread and blend. You look up and notice the lieutenant surveying the restaurant again.

KIM KITSURAGI — “Hmmm… yes, this place certainly seems your style.” YOU — “What, sad and old?” KIM KITSURAGI — He smiles slightly, but his brow betrays his discomfort. “No, I was thinking more along the lines of… eclectic, stubborn, lively.” He glances at the walls covered in various posters, art, and rock and roll memorabilia. YOU — “Disco.” KIM KITSURAGI — “Disco.” He nods affirmatively.

You absently stir your coffee and lift it to your mouth to take a sip, mulling over topics of conversation. RHETORIC — Go for a standard sort of icebreaker, what’s the latest with him, that sort of thing. ESPRIT DE CORPS — Let’s talk work. Trade some gritty case stories with him! INTERFACING — Maybe you could talk torque dork to torque dork? EMPATHY — Neither of you have motor carriages right now. That would just be a bummer. INLAND EMPIRE — Ask him to tell you a secret! AUTHORITY — That one never works.

YOU — “You just moved into your new place, right Kim? How is it?” KIM KITSURAGI — “Hmm, it’s not bad. I had to make a few concessions but… there’s a bit more floor space than my last place. I finally have a good space for a proper desk.” He takes a sip of his coffee. “Now the only trouble is getting a desk up three flights of stairs.”

YOU — “I can lend you a hand with that if you want. I have reason to suspect I may be a former gym teacher.” PERCEPTION — You can’t really hear it, but judging by the steam rolling away from the mug at his lips, you can tell the lieutenant let a light chuckle out through his nose before taking another sip of coffee.

KIM KITSURAGI — “Maybe I’ll take you up on that when I find something suitable.” RHETORIC — Great job! Look at you! You’re so good at talking like a normal person!

KIM KITSURAGI — The lieutenant casually withdraws his notebook from his jacket and starts perusing it while he slowly sips his coffee. YOU — “Hey, no working until we’ve had breakfast.” KIM KITSURAGI — He barely moves, glancing upwards at you and cocking an eyebrow. AUTHORITY — It’s fine, that brow is only operating at about 25% capacity. You got this. YOU — “Take a break, lieutenant.” You place your hand on top of his, gently encouraging him to lower the notebook onto the table. He nonchalantly relents, quickly withdrawing his hand and tucking it under his other arm, which rests casually on the table. His glance wanders away from you and out towards the windows. EMPATHY — It’s hard to tell if he’s annoyed or just playing up indifference. Perhaps you shouldn’t have grabbed his hand like that.

You take a moment to look around the restaurant, passively taking in the surroundings that feel intensely familiar to your instincts, but strangely recent to the rest of you. It’s a weird feeling, one you’ve been experiencing just about everywhere you go in Jamrock. Places that you know but have never seen. Drifting shadows of the person you once were, and still are, half-buried in a haze. Your head fluctuates in the pressure, a mix of pristine images just out of reach and faint illusions gripped tightly in your palm.

KIM KITSURAGI — The lieutenant’s low voice suddenly pulls you back to reality. “Everything alright, detective?” INLAND EMPIRE — There is a hole in my brain. YOU — “Yeah, sorry. Just thinking about the usual.” You pause, contemplating your next words. “Grinding the bourgeoisie into sausage for the proletariat and whatnot,” you lie. KIM KITSURAGI — “Ah, so nice of you to join us, Comrade Mazov.” YOU — You quickly bust out your trusty finger guns and fire off two shots, clicking your tongue as you snap your fingers. KIM KITSURAGI — The lieutenant is unphased by your reckless discharge of live rounds that undoubtedly rain chaos upon the once peaceful restaurant. DRAMA — C’mon, he probably thinks it’s at least a little cool. EMPATHY — It’s not, man.

RHETORIC — Let’s get back to the list. What else can we talk about? YOU — “Tell me a secret about yourself.” KIM KITSURAGI — He sighs. “This again?” YOU — “You know it.” KIM KITSURAGI — He pauses for a moment. “No.” YOU — “Aww, come on.” KIM KITSURAGI — He raises one eyebrow. AUTHORITY — Oh god, we have full capacity brow-raising. I repeat, full capacity!

KIM KITSURAGI — His brow lowers slightly, offering a challenge. “You’re terrible at keeping secrets. Maybe if you can think of a single piece of personal trivia you haven’t already divulged entirely unprompted to any random passerby, we can come back to this topic.” ESPRIT DE CORPS — He does not believe that his terms can be met. He is secure in that. SUGGESTION — Challenge accepted! YOU — “Deal.” DRAMA — You’re gonna need to work on this for like, at least 8 hours probably. Maybe more like 20.

WAITRESS — The same woman reappears with a tray in hand, radiating the unmistakable smell of hot, fresh breakfast. “Here you are, sirs!” She gently slides the plates in front of each of you. “Let me know if there’s anything else you need! Enjoy your food!” PERCEPTION — You notice the name on her apron: Denice. YOU — “Thanks, Denice.” WAITRESS — She offers a polite smile before leaving.

You immediately start digging in, shoveling the mixed bits of potato, egg, bacon, and cheese into your mouth, savoring the salt and fat of a hearty breakfast. It’s your favorite meal, but you don’t always have the time or energy to get anything decent most mornings.

SUGGESTION — Hey, I just had a great idea! Offer Kim some of this shit. YOU — You finish the bite you have in your mouth quickly. “Hey, Kim, you wanna try some of mine?” KIM KITSURAGI — He blinks. “No, thank you. I’ve got plenty here.” He looks down at the colossal waffle on his plate, barely dented. YOU — “Yeah but this is like, stupid good. I’ll even let you have some egg yolk.” KIM KITSURAGI — “Very generous of you.” He smirks, then studies your plate for a moment. “Hm… sure, why not.”

You slide your plate a bit closer to him. He holds his fork up, surveying for the ideal sample size. Then, he strikes, claiming an entire egg for himself.

YOU — “Woooow.” You feign offence. KIM KITSURAGI — “Sorry, detective. I’ll need to confiscate this. I believe it may be connected to a case I’m working on.” He tries to keep a straight face but the corner of his mouth is slightly turned upwards. In seconds, he files the evidence into his mouth and promptly destroys it.

YOU — “Can’t believe the corruption I am witnessing here.” In a counter-attack, you jab your fork into one of the untouched corners of the lieutenant’s waffle. KIM KITSURAGI — The lieutenant stabs his knife down across from your fork, as if ready to engage in combat. He stares you down, brows furrowed with the illusion of authority. “Detective, I would tread carefully if I were you. You have entered enemy territory, and I have the high ground.”

PERCEPTION — You can feel your face turning red in the heat of the incredibly stupid breakfast battle you have entered. AUTHORITY — Do it! Let loose the dogs of war! Get that fucking waffle! KIM KITSURAGI — The lieutenant narrows his eyes at you, his concentration unwavering. The authority levels are building in his brow. They are charged to 50% capacity. DRAMA — I have an idea, sire.

YOU — You relax back in your seat, looking behind Kim. “Oh, hey Captain Pryce, here to enjoy the best breakfast in Central Jamrock?” KIM KITSURAGI — He quickly turns his head to look behind him. SAVOIR FAIRE — In an instant, you slice a corner of the waffle free from Kim’s plate, casually sliding it onto yours. KIM KITSURAGI — Realizing the feint, he snaps his attention back to you, glaring.

YOU — You pull your plate back, then pick up your mug, gesturing towards the lieutenant with a slight smirk. “Truce?” KIM KITSURAGI — Studying you for a moment, he reluctantly picks up his mug and clinks it against yours. “For now.”

#disco elysium #de spoilers #disco elysium spoilers #fanfic #koko fic #de fanfic

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trashcatsnark · 3 years

Note

NGL I love how much you have embraced the silverv stuff here - its so nice to read. I submit for consideration, Rogue notices the tattoo while on the disaster date and both Johnny and V play it off as a joke and holy shit poor rogue stuck in a room with two morons.

Also - V getting dressed for that date and realizing they just MIGHT be a little jealous with a side of some thoughts of "Oh God Johnny Would NEVER Feel That Way About Me Gotta Bury This Deep So He Doesn't Know"

Johnny notices the anxiety but is very dense about the cause.

Oh hell yeah, I have fully embraced it and this ship; I was writing SilverV porn before the game came out, like I knew what my ship for this game was gonna be from the second I saw gifs of

“You’re a dick, Johnny”

“And you’re a cunt, so maybe we’ll fit together after all.”

That banter sealed my fate and I’m fairly sure I had named and created my V then wrote porn of her with Johnny literally a week later. The devil works hard, but my brainrot works harder and faster.

Spoilers!

Okay, so I’ve thought a lot about that date in both a silverv context (and largely how it fits with my V, Aidan and her fic) I’ll try to stay general though.

Firstly, I whole heartedly believe Rogue sees through their bullshit. Not only is she just good at that, but Johnny even states she has MRE’s (?) and can see through people, like her eyes can pick up on signs of lying. And usually, thats not an issue for when V talks to her, but when she asks about Johnny and their relationship with him. Its a mess. And when Rogue asks Johnny about it, its a mess.

And when Rogue notices the tattoo it’s like Oh... I get it . And Johnny is of course like, “hahaha, yeah I thought that’d be so funny, the kid hates it.” But Rogue isn’t stupid, she knows a lovey dovey heart with their names, something that looks like someone doodled it on their third grade notebook about their crush, is not really typical of Johnny’s “joking” She knows that if Johnny is not really the kind of guy to hahahaha its so funny to make it look like we love each other; he’d be more likely to get a dick tattooed on V’s arm if it was just to mess with them. For gods sake, look how many people didn’t pick “the other one” because they were convinced it was gonna be a dick. That’s a Johnny just trying to fuck with someone move. So, she doesn’t buy it, but doesn’t push it...with him.

She asks V about and of course they play it off as “Yeah, Johnny thought it’d be funny, what a fucking asshole, its so fucking dumb, I totally fuckin hate it.”

“So, why not get it removed?”

“Uhhhhhhhhhhh, well you see what had happened was, um, I, just uhhhh, never been enough time, I guess yeahhhhhh.”

Cause lets face it, in cyberpunk universe, getting a tattoo removed should be easy. If you can get blades in your arms and can have a completely newly reconstructed body in like an afternoon; you can get a tattoo removed in like twenty minutes. So, V still keeping it, says volumes about how they really feel.

Now, V’s jealousy and the date.

I do absolutely agree that any anxiety or ill feeling V might have up until the date; Johnny is gonna feel, but not realize where it’s coming from. I think if anything, he’s gonna chalk it up to V being anxious about giving him control again and he’s gonna be like worried that maybe V doesn’t trust him as much as they let on.

And I do think a V who has feelings for Johnny, would not be able to help feeling some jealousy regarding Rogue and Johnny. Just because jealousy is natural thing to feel and while you can debate if they were ever a good or healthy couple, you can’t debate they shared very real feelings for one another. And I think a lot of V’s jealousy would come from just how much Johnny seems to first think of/go to Rogue. When he needed to save Alt, first person he turned to, Rogue. When he wanted to bomb Arasaka tower (going by his memory of it and ignoring that the event was probably actually planned by Morgan Blackhand), who’d he go to? Rogue. When he becomes determined to get Smasher, who is he determined to get him with, Rogue. When he first decides to atone for his past mistakes, who’s the first person he wants to make up with, Rogue. When at the rooftop, who does he want to go grab to help him save V, Rogue.

If you got feelings for someone, that’d hurt, I think it’s impossible for that not to spark some jealousy. And V if anything is also mad at themselves for having those feelings, because they like Rogue, she’s a badass, a legend, they respect the hell out of her. And of course they have feelings for Johnny and they wanna help him make shit right and they wanna give him a chance to enjoy himself. But this stupid reptilian part of their brain is screaming but i want to be the first person he goes to, the first person he thinks about, which they know is also stupid cause for fucks sake the man literally lives in their brain, they’re as close as two people can be and literally when Johnny has the power to go to someone for something, he can’t go to V because they’re reduced to sleeping essentially until Johnny hands back the reigns. Yet, feelings aren’t aren’t always, rational, sadly.

And to Johnny’s credit, he probably doesn’t even give it that much thought. Rogue is a badass, someone he cares for, someone he can depend on and someone he hurt really badly. The two people he can and always has been able to depend on the most (other than Alt prior to her death) have been Kerry and Rogue. And, bless his heart, the fuck is Kerry gonna do? Kerry ain’t a merc, Kerry isn’t gonna bust into Arasaka Tower or plant a bomb. Kerry doesn’t have the connection to Smasher. So, of course, Rogue is gonna be his go to. And in terms of making things up to people...he literally cannot really do much to make things up to V, not the way he can for Rogue or Kerry. Cause, when him and V are both conscious, he can’t do much beyond touch and talk to them. Hell, even with Rogue and Kerry, he relies mostly on V to help him do anything. Even with people he can interact with and do something for; V is doing all the nitty gritty work for him. V drives Rogue to the theater, V breaks into the theater, V gets the projector going. V breaks into Kerry’s house, V disables the security. V gets in contact with Nancy. V gets Nancy out of Totentanz in one piece.

Which probably if V actually thought about it critically, does mean he’s going to them and relying on them more than Rogue, but they’d probably dismiss it out of it being for necessity and not because he cares about them and feels he an depend on them.

Anyhow, Johnny would probably love to do some nice gesture to make up for his bender to V, hell they probably were the first person he wanted to make things up since they are his catalyst for changing. But what feasibly can he do for them? Anything he’d want to do with/for them, would just be asking V go do this thing and i’ll also be here. Anything that would put them in public interacting is out, unless they want MaxTac called on V for looking cyberpsychotic. He can’t even do an at home date, because he can’t cook (engram or not) and he can’t buy them anything nice he has no money and also doesn’t technically exist. He could try to do so sneakily while he’s in control...but he’d be using V’s money so they might as well just buy it for themselves. he can play music for them,,. but that doesn’t seem too special and more than a little egotistical to think it’ll make V feel better about what he did... So... all he can really do, is prove he’s worth trusting by being on his best behavior and more importantly do what he can to save V’s life.

Then there’s the date. And as usual, I have some opinions and feelings about a thing. Like, okay, I’ve seen some people (aka Gamer Bros on Twitter) being like, Rogue is Johnny’s girl. Wanting to date either of them is wrong because they like each other. (then you also get the BUT ALT crowd, but rants for another day.) And I can’t help but ask, did we play the same date? Their entire date is about how they’re both desperately clinging to the past. Rogue is trying to reclaim 2013-2023 Rogue and Johnny just wanting for a night to feel like the world and his place in it haven’t been completely rearranged. And it ends with Rogue telling him, she is not that girl anymore, she can’t pretend to be, and frankly she doesn’t want to anymore. She wishes she could be, wishes she was still that tall haired street punk who’d never dream of working with corps or being a fixer, but she’s not. Her and Johnny are no longer the same people who met back in to 2010’s. Doesn’t mean they don’t care about one another and doesn’t mean what feelings they had weren’t real or important; but they’re just not those people anymore. Rogue more so than Johnny since he’s freshly on the course of change.

Something else in regards to the date, that I think is important to talk about and how it relates to silverv and its something I personally have very conflicting feelings about. The fact that Johnny can initiate some physical intimacy with Rogue. See, I have never chosen the option to kiss Rogue during the date and actually did not learn until relatively recently, that if that choice is made it goes a biiit further than a kiss. I have watched the scene now.

And god I have mixed feelingssss. Like, I get it, but I’m not sure I like it. And I know full well, my silverv bias impacts my feelings on the matter, it’s be disingenuous to say otherwise. But I don’t think the ship is purely my reason for having these feelings. But at the end of the day, its all opinions. So, I get from a character perspective that Johnny and Rogue are trying so hard to reclaim their past and what they use to have that they get caught up in trying do what they would do if this was the 2010’s. And Johnny’s relationships as we’ve seen are very physical, sexual chemistry and attraction are major factors in his relationships because he kept things very superficial most of the time. He even says part of the issue with his relationship with Rogue is at the time he didn’t realize he could let her see the true him and still hid behind walls, kept things at a distance. So, the idea that’d they fall back into the old habit of trying to just be physical and ignore their feelings, isn’t out of character.

However, and Johnny even seems to acknowledge this issue when Rogue interrupts it, they’re doing this with V’s body. V...who did not consent to sexual contact. They consented to a date and while one could logic that this would mean everything a date could entail up to and including physical intimacy; I would argue that that is something that would need further conversation to have clear consent. And like again, this might come down to boundaries and personal feelings. Because I go back to the bender and what’s been interesting to me is too see different opinions on it; some people weren’t actually bothered at all by Johnny’s bender in V’s body, some people were bothered by the drugs and alcohol specifically cause their V is straight edge. Me, personally, it was the sexual content and the endangering of V’s life. Like, it was mostly funny and oh yeah, I expected that it’s bad but eh I’ll move on, to me, until he started getting sexual with people in V’s body. Like that to me is not just crossing the line, it’s catapulting over it.

And like I said, Johnny even responds to Rogue’s “this isn’t fair” with “what, you mean it’s not fair to V?” which she says she meant it isn’t fair to Johnny. (Which viscerally upset because you nearly used V’s body for sexual gratification without their consent and you’re worried about Johnny, which tbf Rogue has no way of knowing what V has and hasn’t consented to, so its not on her but that was my knee jerk thought). So, he has some awareness that maybe that was a bad move.

And yeah, it definitely to me and my V would be a very bad move (unless he explicitly talked to them beforehand and got consent). And in general, it made me feel like, dude, you just promised you’d be better and not break V’s trust but again not a day later you’re nearly using them to have sex. It felt like a backslide, which isn’t necessarily unrealistic, cause change and growth is not always linear, people can commit to changing themselves and still fuck up and not get it right; in fact it’s rare for them not to have any sort of backsliding or repeating of mistakes.

Again, I will also give credit that he could have been assuming that given V consented to the date, they assumed or were cool with their being physical intimacy between him and Rogue. He also generally, might not have really planned for it to happen, because I don’t think Johnny plans a lot of anything. It very well might have just sort of happened. Also, V doesn’t clearly communicate if the sexual component was an issue in the bender. All V really seems to have an issue with in game is the very general thing of; he misled them and used them. So, he might have assumed that wasn’t ever an issue. And hell, if you wanna go full meta, the player is technically the one who makes that choice and V is largely an avatar for the player, so that alone could be seen as whether or not V would/does consent.

But, from a story perspective, removing the player choice element. I think how that’s handled would have a huge impact on silverv and where it goes from there.

Because if V and Johnny did talk about consent prior and V did consent while having feelings for Johnny, god I’d have to imagine they’d still feel pretty hurt, but feel it’s irrational to feel that way and have put their own feelings aside because clearly Johnny cares about and wants Rogue and they should ruin what could be his one chance to make things right.

If there like in game was no talk of consent and Johnny ends up kissing and touching on Rogue and V finds out or has memories of it surface,that could be devastating for them. Not only from their own feelings for Johnny, but this since of betrayal and hurt. Was the oil field conversation just a lie? A manipulation? V might feel like they were used; that Johnny never gave a shit about them or how they feel. And Johnny would have to deal with the realization that intentionally or not; he earned back V’s trust just to destroy it again. He fucked up again, he ruined everything again, he got his second chance and destroyed it…. And he doesn’t know how, if he can, or if he should bother trying to ask for a third. In general, I do think, V would come out of the date assuming (naturally so) that Johnny really only has romantic feelings towards Rogue, that they’re just a friend at best, a host to be used at worse. I even in my own universe with my V have them after everything is better, everyones got a body, expects Johnny to start pursing Rogue and trying to swallow their own feelings and be a supportive friend, try to encourage and push him to do it and Johnny’s just like please stop, Rogue is this close to murdering us both.

I was gonna add more funny stuff to this and include a shitposty interaction he has with my V over them dressing up for the date and shit, BUT HOLY FUCK THIS GOT LONG AND SAD????? I’M SO SORRY.

#cyberpunk 2077 #cp2077 #johnny silverhand #silverv #cyberpunk 2077 spoilers #ieiwi

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frostsinth · 4 years

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A Line in the Sand - Pt. 2

Intro - Part 1| - MasterList

Another part of this lovely Lizardman for @ivymemnoch‘s commissioned Monster Match. It’s fun to have all these lovely little misunderstandings between them. In this section, Devaraj’s reveals a bit more about his profitable work, and Sera thinks about taking off.

Want your own Monster Match? DM me for prices! Check out my MasterList above for a smattering of other stories and ramblings, and please feel free to BuyMeACoffee while you are there.

Always looking for ART-spiration, so feel free to drop me an ask or comment with some of your thoughts!

In the end, I’m not sure what woke me. Was it the soft thrum of insects, waking with the first rays of dawn? Or perhaps it was the soft twitter of birds, that grew from a petering distant echo to a soothing trill around me. I remember hearing the soft snorting huff of Nur, sensing the big draft had wandered close to my sleeping spot. Feeling his heavy steps shake the ground slightly before he drifted off again. Whatever the cause, my eyes slowly opened, and a yawn stretched my mouth.

It took me a few belated moments to reconcile my current place with my memories of the previous evening. I blinked groggily a few times, rolling and looking about. As my brain woke more, I considered the soft tented cloth over my head, and the warm bedroll around me. The scent of sand came to my mind, but not to my nose, and I realized I was alone in the makeshift shelter once more.

I rolled again, shifting and shaking the last of the sleep from my eyes. Managing to pull myself up and look around the small clearing. But the reptilian man was nowhere to be seen. Nur stood by the side of the small nest we had made, snuffing and huffing at some dried branches. The saddle and bags were still where I had left them the night before. So wherever he had gone… It couldn’t have been far…

“...Shri?” I called hesitantly, rubbing at my arms as I emerged from the soft warmth of the blankets. There was no answer, and straining my ears, no sound of movement.

Slowly, I crawled out from beneath the tent, peering between the bows and trunks of the trees around us. I could just make out the road in the distance, and sighed as the soft crackle of leaves crunched under my boots. For a moment, I thought this might be a blessing… and opportunity to escape. Certainly he was out of sight and earshot, and he had opportunely left all of his supplies behind. I wandered over to the bags, glancing at Nur almost guiltily as if the horse might betray my malicious thoughts. I shifted from foot to foot, glancing about. But I was confident the strange man was nowhere near.

I kneeled beside the bags, and started to reach out to one. Then I hesitated. A flash of intense yellow eyes, the glint of teeth. Not frightening, but instead… friendly. Welcoming. Kind. I sighed again, shaking my head at the nerve of my conscience and dropping my hand. I also couldn’t quite shake the reminder of his words when I had asked him if he was worried I might steal from him; “You could certainly try. It would be amusing.” … I wondered if perhaps there was a magical charm on the items, or if there was some sort of anti-thief trap… Well, I would just wait, I determined. Until we reached the next town. That way, I wouldn’t have to risk anything nor take his supplies, and could simply slip away into the shadows. Honestly, it was probably for the best I left. I doubted he knew exactly what kind of trouble he had gotten himself into when he had signed me on.

Shaking myself again, I stood and slowly pivoted on one foot. Looking around the small clearing again. Wondering where exactly my new ‘employer’ had gone. I walked over to Nur, who lifted his behemoth head as I approached and wuffed softly, his huge flanks fluttering with the deep breath. He nudged me with his big nose, his nostrils flaring, and being that his head was almost the size of my entire torso, even that gentle touch had me staggering a step to maintain my balance. He snorted again, taking a step towards me and flattening his forelock against my chest. I scratched behind his speckled grey ears absent-mindedly, still looking about.

“Do you know where he went?” I asked the gelding, then had to jerk back to avoid being tossed aside as he lifted his head and shook it with another loud snort. I smiled, wondering if that was a real answer, and patted his velvety nose. “Well, I suppose I should go look for him then?”

Nur looked at me with his big, dark eyes, and no answer seemed forthcoming. I ran my hand up and down his nose, then turned and considered my options. The way back towards the road seemed mostly clear; unless he had gone there and travelled up or down its length a ways, I should be able to see him from where we were camped. So that left the notion that he had headed deeper into the woods. I gave Nur a final pat, then began to pick my way through the woods beyond.

“Shri?” I called softly, the unfamiliar word still heavy on my tongue.

I was careful to keep a scan of the surroundings as I moved, not wanting to accidentally miss him during my search. I doubted that would be very likely; even with the vegetation, the man was far too large and broad to simply hide in plain sight. Though his mottled green scales might blend rather well with the shifting foliage. The chill night before reminded me that fall would be upon us sooner rather than later, though the air was very mild now. I wondered briefly how the cold-blooded lizard man would fare in the snows, and had an amusing image of him hibernating in a log cabin with a roaring fire and a bloated belly. A few yards in, I heard the sound of running water; perhaps a small stream nearby. I decided that it might have also drawn his attention, and turned to make my way towards it.

I caught sight of his shoulders between the trunks of the trees, and almost sighed with relief. I didn’t notice until I had broken through the treeline that it was not the beaten grey of his cloak that caught the fresh morning sunlight, but the green of his bare scales. A delayed heartbeat later, I realized he was completely without clothes again. I nearly fell over as I staggered to a halt, frozen in place by the full sight of him, unobscured by steam or darkness.

The crisp golden rays splashed down his broad shoulders, pricking his mottled green into a smoky emerald color. The scales looked smooth, and rippled as he drew in long, deep breaths. His broad shoulders were squared, and I was again stunned by their width, at least double my own. From this angle I could clearly see the base of his four dark grey horns protruding from his skull before curling forward, and the delicate fan of the leathery skin on the top of his head between the spikes. I followed the curve of his spine down his muscular back, each muscle more pronounced and defined by the shape of his large scales. Tracing down to the point of his spine, just about his bottom, where his tail protruded. It was long and thick, perhaps thicker than my thigh, with a flat top studded with the soft flat spikes on either ridge. I hadn’t gotten nearly so good a look at it before... I wondered how much he could move it. He had it half curled around, forming a semi-circle around his large, muscular legs which were neatly folded in a criss-cross pattern beneath him. I could see his huge arms were relaxed, palms resting open on his knees and the soft yellow/cream color of the scales there bathing in the light.

“Good morning, Sera.” He called lightly without looking over his shoulder. His thick voice had me jumping in surprise. I saw his head tilt, saw the flash of his yellow eye as he considered me out of its corner. “I trust you slept well.”

If he was upset I had been spying on him, he didn’t show it. Nor did he seem particularly concerned that he was completely without clothes; I noticed them folded neatly into a pile beside him. I swallowed hard, trying to ignore the pulsing of my blood beneath my cheeks.

“Ah… Apologies, shri… I did not mean-”

He made a noise deep in his chest, shaking his great horned head. “I am merely greeting the sun, Sera. There is no need for your words.” The tip of his tail twitched. “Come, join me.”

“Greeting the sun?” I echoed, venturing closer tentatively.

He nodded looking up at me. Even sitting, his head was nearly to my shoulders. “Yes. I believe it is similar to how you humans… what is the term, break fast?”

I started to answer, then suddenly gave a soft ‘eep!’ instead as his hand wrapped around my wrist and yanked, firmly but gently. I tumbled onto his lap, and he wrapped his huge arms around me. I was so startled, my mouth dropped open, and I froze. A deep rumble formed in his chest, vibrating against my cheek, and his thick flat tail came around and dropped heavily across my lap. Further entombing me in his embrace.

“W-what are you doing?” I stammered, so surprised I forgot to try to wriggle free.

His scaled brows were arched slightly when I finally managed to pull my head far enough back to look up at him. I stiffened as I felt the tip of his tail flick where it had fallen on the inside of my thigh. A fresh wave of heat washed through me, and not all of it went to my face. Pressed against him, I was once again surrounded by the scent of sand. His scales were smooth and silky over his firm muscles, and I was given the distinct expression of touching a rock that had been warmed by the sun. Part of me wanted to run my hands over those scales. To feel the grooves and see if they lifted and overlapped or met carefully at the edges.

“I am returning your warmth, Sera. As you so kindly shared yours with me last night.” His words brought me to the present and I jumped a little. He titled his head curiously to the side. “Though you seem quite warm already. Have you been sunbathing as well?”

“N-no,” I finally remembered how to move, and started to wriggle, trying to right myself and scramble out of his arms, “I just woke up and found you gone so-”

“Ah, I forget that humans do not sunbathe. Save for pleasure.”

I found the way his tongue rolled over the word ‘pleasure’ was far too much for me. He unwrapped his arms but otherwise did not try to help or hinder my fight to regain my feet. I clumsily rolled from his lap onto the soft grass in front of him first onto my bottom then settling on my knees, glancing up at him through my lashes. His long scaled lips curled back again, revealing those sharp teeth in what I assumed was a smile. His tongue slipped out, and I swallowed hard again as a tingling rush went through my body. I cleared my throat, and rubbed at the back of my neck.

“How long have you been out here?” I asked, trying to change the subject and looking for something else to stare at besides his broad chest.

He gave a soft hmm, eyelids drooping in a pleased manner. “As soon as the air began to warm this morning. But now that you are up, we can be on our way.”

I fell back on my hands as he stood, his big body moving with a languid grace that I found surprising for his size. I craned my head back to look up at him, and couldn’t help my jaw dropping open a bit. By the Gods he was big… and there was far too much of him to see without his clothes. I couldn’t help skimming my eyes over a particularly private point between his hips (if only ever so briefly on the way up to his face) and was slightly surprised to see… nothing. The same smooth scales of his stomach as far as my quick glance had perceived. I wasn’t sure if I was relieved or disappointed. My mind wandered dangerously and I felt my cheeks flushing darker. He offered me that toothy, lipless grin again and his large clawed hand. I wondered if he knew what I was thinking, and my guilt had me hot at the collar as I sheepishly put my hand in his.

“Why not head back,” He told me as he gently pulled me to my feet, “Start packing camp while I get dressed. We should be able to reach the next town in an hour or two, and can have our meal at their tavern. Yes?”

I nodded, my tongue still too large for my mouth and my head still buzzing with thoughts that really should never be brought to light. I didn’t wait for further instruction, heading back between the boughs. Within a few minutes, I broke through the trees to find Nur nosing the tent canvass curiously. He raised his big head when I approached, and gave a huff that sounded oddly disinterested for a horse. I patted his velvety nose briefly, then went about rolling back up the tent and bedroll and tying it tight. Trying hard to dislodge the image of sun warmed scales from my mind. I was just hoisting up the saddle with both hands when Devaraj returned, his scarf hanging loose about his shoulders but otherwise fully dressed again. I couldn’t help the wandering eye that drifted down the edge of his low collar as he strode over.

“Excellent, thank you, Sera.” He praised me, taking the saddle from me and easily slinging it over Nur’s back. The draft bobbed his head almost eagerly.

I was glad he had returned when he did; I wasn’t sure I would easily be able to reach the big horse’s back. As he secured the straps, I gathered up the bags and bedroll over my shoulders and carried them over.

“Do you have… business in the next town?” I asked, curious despite myself. I realized suddenly that my opportunity to part ways with the reptilian man would be coming sooner than expected... It left me with a strange tingling regret in my chest.

“Not in the town, as such, but in their crypt.” He told me, taking the bundles and slinging them behind the saddle. I moved around to the other side to secure them there.

“Their crypt?” I echoed, surprised.

“Yes, crypt is where-”

“I know what a crypt is,” I interrupted, and slipped under Nur’s neck to come around to the same side as him again, “But what business do you have at a crypt??”

His toothy grin returned. “Ah, I am what my people call a prizrasha. A… charmer, I suppose would be the best translation. Of spirits.”

“...Excuse me?”

“Yes? Do you need to pass?” He looked at me, his fierce eyes curious. “Why do you say ‘excuse me’? Do you need some time to yourself?”

“No.. I mean... “ I shook my head, blinking stupidly a few times trying to sort myself out. “I-I said it like… excuse me, as in I’m not sure… I’m not sure I heard you correctly.”

“Ah! Excellent, I did not know this.” He started to turn back to finishing securing the saddle and removing Nur’s hobble. “I said I was a prizrasha, as my people call us. And we are spirit charmers.”

“Y-yes, I heard the words,” I stammered, stepping out of the way as he moved to secure the reins and flip them over the gelding’s head, “I’m just not certain I understand what you mean by… “spirit charmers”.”

“Hmm.” He patted Nur’s flank, turning to look at me. “I suppose it is a rather inadequate description.” He stood by his mount’s head, taking up the reins and jerking his chin towards the road as he began to lead him out. “What is it that your people call ‘spirits’?”

“A ghost.” I replied, following him hesitantly. “A phantom. The… spirit of someone who has died that lingers on this plane.” I tried to keep the shiver from my voice.

He nodded along as I spoke. “I believe I see. This is a part of it, I am sure. However, I suppose the translation is poor… Nessiim have a stronger word for it. The dushrasha. It is the spirit of those who have passed, yes, but it is also in those still living.” He paused, seeming to struggle for words. “It is… hard to explain in this tongue.”

“So… What is it that you do with the… dushrasha?” I asked timidly, trying to keep the fear out of my voice. If I had thought him strange before, I certainly found my previous thoughts on him downright dull compared to them now.

“I charm them.” He replied, his voice light with the teasing tone returned to it. “A prizrasha speaks to the spirit and can cure what ails it. It is a form of healing that is not limited to the living.”

We had reached the road now, and Devaraj pivoted Nur to face the right direction before turning to me. I took a step back warily, then stopped myself. I placed a steadying hand on the draft’s flank, turning over his words in my head.

“... I-I’m still not sure I understand what it is you do-”

“It is rather simple, I suppose,” He placed his hands on his hips, looking down at me with his head tilted to the side, “A prizrasha is uniquely skilled at dealing with all manner of things. Sometimes, I am called to deal with a so-called malevolent spirit, other times to heal someone deeply scarred beyond the reach of local healers. Yet other times, to deal with untamable beasts.”

I opened my mouth to say more, but was silenced by the gasp that escaped instead as he hoisted me up, his big hands scooping around my waist, and sat me at the horn of the saddle. I quickly adjusted, swinging one leg over so I could properly sit rather than riding side-saddle again. A breath later the leather squeaked as he bounded up into place behind me. I tried not to stiffen as I felt the rough material of his tunic brush my back. Nur was already moving before he had fully settled, eager to be off.

“And for this particular… job?” I managed, my voice whisper soft.

“A dushrasha has been harassing the town, or so I am told.” He explained. “I will be seeing what ails it, and hopefully helping it leave this plane to its final resting place.”

A shiver went down my spine, and I jumped a little as his big arm came around my hips. Perhaps it was meant as a reassuring gesture, but instead it had me swallowing the lump that formed in my throat at his words. It’s fine, I told myself, you’ll be leaving soon. It doesn’t matter what he does.

“Have I upset you?” He asked as he used his big thighs to steer Nur around a deep rut in the road. I was surprised that his voice sounded… concerned.

“Ah.. n-no shri.” I assured him, and hoped again that part of his strangeness did not extend to being able to detect a lie. “I am just… surprised…”

“Dushrasha are not evil, Sera, even those without a body left on the mortal plane.” He told me as we rode along. “Most are pained, or tied by some grief or unfinished business. In both the living and the dead.” I felt his chin come to rest on the top of my head. “Think of me as a Healer, though perhaps at times this word is also a stretch.”

I nodded, falling silent. Trying to reconcile with the writing snake that was my stomach turning knots in my gut. We rode quietly for a time, and I tried not to pay too much attention to the soft sensation of his chest rising and falling against my back. I jumped again as his arm coiled about my middle suddenly flexed.

“If you are afraid, Sera… Please do not be.” He told me, his muzzle now beside my ear. My eyes flicked to the corners, as if they would be able to see him from there without moving my head. His long tongue flicked out, nearly grazing my cheek as it did. “I will keep you safe. No harm shall come to you, I promise.”

I felt my blush returning, and dipped my chin down. A thousand different possible responses came to my lips, but I could abide by none of them passing beyond. So I remained silent, giving only another curt nod in response.

It mattered not, within another hour we were at our destination. A small hamlet with a dozen buildings or so clustered around a main field. There were other houses in the distance, likely farmers and hunters. I doubted there were many people here who did not live off the land. We rode over a crest in the hill, then down the long muddy road. Heads raised as we passed, and whispers were quickly exchanged. I saw more than a few shoulders tense and hands go for the nearest item passable for a weapon. I shifted in the saddle, but a glance over my shoulder did not reveal how Devaraj felt about his welcome.

We rode unmolested into the center of town, stopping beside the tavern (as indicated by an old swinging sign in the shape of a foaming mug over its door). Nur tossed his head and snorted in irritation, obviously displeased with the likelihood of being stalled again. He scooped one meaty hoof into the soft ground, tossing clumps behind him as Devaraj slid from the saddle behind me.

“Go and procure us some food, yes?” He told me as he helped me down from the saddle. “I will secure Nur and bring in our bags. Then we shall notify the town leaders that we have arrived.”

I glanced over his shoulder at the numerous eyes lingering on us as he dug through the purse at his hip and pressed a few coins into my hands. Based upon what I saw, I doubted very much we would need to announce our arrival.

But I did as I was told and turned to duck into the tavern. Ignoring the eyes following me and the whispers brushing just beneath the scope of my hearing. I wondered briefly how good Devaraj’s hearing was.

The tavern was dim, dusty, and in disrepair. There were a few patchy holes in the rafters that allowed thin beams of broken sunlight to filter past the old wooden frame and hit the dirt ground below, and were the main source of late as the windows were far too grimy to provide much. A spattering of tables, mostly empty save for a few seedy sorts nursing chipped mugs, and a greasy bar at the far wall that looked as though it had seen better days. A few heads raised as the door thunked closed behind me, but interest was quickly lost in favor of whatever content they sipped from their cups. I made my way over to the bar, where a large bellied man sat rubbing at a mug with a dirty cloth.

“Ay, miss, what’ll ye need?” He asked as I approached, his voice gruff but polite.

I nodded to him in greeting. “Two breakfast plates. Sausage, egg, biscuits. The whole works if you have it.”

He returned my nod, placing the cup on the counter and slinging the cloth over his shoulder. “No’ a problem, miss. That’ll be three piece, yeah?” When I dropped the coin in his extended meaty hand, he gave me a cheery, broken toothed grin. “Ye’ll be wanting something to wet yer palate too?”

“Ale would be fine.” I replied, leaning against the bar for a moment and glancing around. The man disappeared into the back room, and I heard pots clanging and the creak of a stove cover opening.

I lingered for a minute on my meal request. Wondering if it would be sufficient. After all, I had forgotten to ask what Nessiim ate. I chewed over this for another moment, before a sudden wave of realization washed over me like a bucket of cold water splashed at my back. This was my opportunity. Devaraj would be otherwise occupied, and I could easily make myself scarce even in a town as small as this. Maybe even catch a ride with a traveling merchant or farmer to the next town. Certainly I didn’t want to have anything to do with his… work. A shiver worked its way down my spine at the thought of our earlier conversation. But it was quickly replaced by the skipping beat of my heart in my breast at the memory of his muzzle next to my ear… I will keep you safe. No harm shall come to you, I promise... I rubbed my fingers against the worn wood of the bar, trying and failing to assess why I suddenly felt so reluctant to leave. I had always been on my own, for as long as I could remember. What could possibly make me want to change that now? I glanced about again as my anxiousness rose, and my palms itched to relieve the room of their valuables, sparse as the pickings would be. Something to take my mind off… I shook my head and sighed. Resisting the urge.

The door thunked open again and I peeked over my shoulder to watch the reptilian man duck his huge horned head to fit beneath its frame. His entrance had the current patrons reacting much differently than my own; I saw them stiffen, uncurling from over their drinks and wary scowls quickly forming on their lips. If he noticed, Devaraj made no indication. His sharp yellow eyes settled on me and he gave a gentle nod before making his way over to an empty corner table. The closest adjacent table’s occupants quickly took their leave, gathering their things and scuttling to another table. I frowned, surprised by the abject fear I felt wafting off the patrons. Sure, he was an unusual specimen. But he was hardly aggressive looking... Or was I simply biased now?

I pivoted to attend to the barkeep, who’s return had returned preceded by the creaking of hinges from the kitchen door. He had two iron plates piled high with greasy looking food, and he plopped them down in front of me.

“Lemme get yer ale, Miss.” He told me. I returned a polite smile.

“Hey! Scaly!” Came a loud voice from behind me, and I stiffened slightly. “What the hell is wrong with you? You some sort of… devil spawn?”

I turned in time to see one of the burlier men approaching the corner table boldly. His shirt was stained and filled with holes, and he had a large crooked nose he looked down to glare at Devaraj. He had nothing on my companion’s muscle, but was certainly tall and heavy set enough to cause trouble.

“Indeed not, sir.” Came the thick reply, and I noticed the reptilian man’s usually airy tone had been replaced by a twitchingly harsh edge.

“Don’t ‘sir’ me, scales. I’m not your sir.” Growled the man. “We don’t let devils around here.”

Devaraj blinked slowly at the man, and I noticed his long tongue dart out briefly. The man stiffened at the sight, his eyes widening by a hair. But then he gritted his teeth, and I noticed his fists ball. I quickly gathered the plates in hand and bustled over to the table.

“Apologies for the delay,” I told Devaraj quickly, laying a plate in front of him and deftly putting my body between him and the irritated patron, “I hope this will be to your satisfaction.”

“Oi!” Came the expected grunt from behind me. I turned, pretending to just have noticed the man. He looked me up and down, scowling. But I saw a seed of doubt forming in his eyes. “.. You know this beast?”

“Beast?” I scoffed, hand to my chest, “By all that is holy, you must be joking. You mean you don’t recognize him?? You are the true beast if you would think him as much!”

The man blinked stupidly, my insult flying over his head. “...Eh?”

I placed my hands on my hips. “Well, I do apologize, I had believed you to be a traveled and educated man who would know a Spirit Charmer when he saw one!” My dry tone was lost on him, and I sighed deeply. “And here we are, summoned by your own leaders and treated to such disrespect!”

I noticed the rest of the room suddenly rapt with full attention. I squared my shoulders and craned my neck up to look at the man before me. I saw him glance around to his companions, becoming more uncertain by the minute. He reached up and rubbed at the back of his neck.

“... Spirit Charmer, you say?”

“Yes! One of the best, for which I am certain you are all proud that your leaders were able to procure one of such notoriety!” I cocked my head to the side at him. “Unless we were mistakenly misinformed to your… troubles.”

I saw more than a few more spines stiffen, and the barkeep came slowly over with the two mugs of ale. I saw him eye Devaraj warily, then turned his attention back to me.

“Yer here about the spirit at the craig crypts?” He asked tentatively, placing the mugs on the table.

“The very ones.” I bluffed, hoping that was indeed what we were here for. “Have you been plagued long?”

The barkeep and his patron exchanged a look, and the crooked nosed man nodded slowly. “Ay, miss, we have. There’s a terrible keening most nights, and the things’ been killing sheep now… We’re worried it might be takin’ the children next.”

“Has anyone passed lately?” Devaraj asked, speaking up for the first time. “Or has the crypt been disturbed?”

“...There’s an old legend of a man who lived out by the craigs...” The barkeep answered hesitantly, glancing at the scaled man over my shoulder. “Folks’ be suspectin’ its his angry spirit hanging about.”

“Well then, it seems like my employer and I arrived just in time.” I exclaimed, hoping no one saw the nervous shiver down my spine at the mention of the spirit. “... Unless of course you’ve found an alternative method to deal with your spirit? We have many demands for his skills and would be happy to be on our way-”

“N-no ma’am… ah, miss…” The barkeep held up his hands, and even the crooked nosed patron shook his head sheepishly. “We be right glad yer… ‘employer’ is here.”

I cocked my head to the side again. “Are you now? Pardon, I was a bit confused by our welcome.”

When I looked pointedly at the other man, his face ruddied and he rubbed at the back of his neck. “Beggin’ your pardon, Miss… Sir,” He looked over my shoulder at Devaraj, bowing his head humbly, “I didn’t know… I won’t bother you further…” He bowed his head and quickly scuttled out the door.

“I am right sorry fer Kam, there,” the barkeep continued as the other patrons made a point to go back to whatever had been occupying them before, “None of us ‘ave been gettin’ a good sleep, right? An’ we havena seen a… a Spirit Charmer before…”

I stepped to the side, moving to take the bench across from Devaraj. “Certainly understandable, such a profession is rare in these parts, I am told, which is why it was wise of your leaders to send for one.” I looked him over, staying on my feet a moment longer. “My employer and I have travelled a long way to be here, I hope it is alright that we take a meal before speaking with them?”

“N-not at all!” He exclaimed, bobbing his fat chin nervously. I saw his eyes flicker back over to Devaraj, but quickly dropped his gaze. “We’re on edge, sir, I hope ye understand. Wut with all the… activity in the area.”

Devaraj nodded his long chin, but otherwise said nothing. The barkeep stuttered out a final apology as well as a farewell, then moved back to his place at the bar. Leaving us alone to our meal. I picked up the biscuit, which was still warm from the oven, and broke it in half between my hands. An uneasy murmur had settled through the tavern, but other than a curious eye here and there, we were left to ourselves.

“That was expertly handled, Sera,” Mused my companion quietly, picking up his mug and giving it a curious sniff, “I do not believe I have ever had such an easy introduction.”

I scoffed softly, staring down at my food and chewing slowly. “That was easy?”

“By comparison, yes.” I peeked up at him through my lashes to see his elongated mouth stretching into a closed mouth smile. “I am pleased you decided to take my employment offer.”

I nodded lightly, hiding a blush and the stab of guilt that came from the thought of what might have happened had I decided to abandon him just a short while earlier… I took a quiet sip of my ale, then gestured to his plate after I replaced my cup on the table.

“I-I wasn’t sure if you would mind a traditional breakfast… Do you have a food preference?”

He chuckled lightly, and I watched as he took a bite of the sausage. “I do not. I am content with whatever meal I can procure. Though I must say,” He managed to smack his scaly lips, “This is better than I have yet had in your lands. It smells quite good.”

Another stab of guilt, wondering exactly had he been eating before that this greasy slop seemed so decadent to him. I swallowed my mouthful and took up another. As I took another swig of my ale, I used the opportunity to glance about again discretely. But it seemed we would not be bothered again, though I was certain our appearance would still be on the villagers’ lips for many days to come.

“You are good at this, Sera,” He intoned, and I turned my attention back to him, “One day in and you have already proved your worth tenfold.” He tilted his big horned head to the side and snaked his long tongue out at me. “Perhaps you deserve a raise.”

I choked on a quiet laugh, shaking my head. “You haven’t paid me yet… Besides, I’d settle for my own bedroll…” A blush rose to my cheeks. “And a horse… if possible.”

“Hmmm.” Came his response, and his thin nostrils flared slightly. “I will miss your warmth when we ride, but understand it might not be most ideal for you.” A finalizing nod. “We shall procure you a mount before we depart then.”

“H-how long will that be?” I asked curiously.

“Depends on the situation with this spirit. But I suspect it shan’t be more than a day or two at most to soothe its ails and bring some peace back to this town.” He took a large mouthful, scarfing it back with a pleased rumble in his deep chest. I watched his throat ripple as he swallowed. “There will be a contract ready by the time we finish, I am certain.”

That gave me a start. “... We?”

His toothy grin returned. “But of course! I shall be most grateful for your assistance, Sera!”

I pushed my plate away, unfinished. Suddenly having lost my appetite.

....

UPDATE: Part Three HERE

#A Line in the Sand #lizardman boyfriend #lizardman lover #lizardman x human #dragonborn #dragonborn lover #dragonborn boyfriend #monster lover #monster boyfriend #monster romance #monster x human #tails-and-scales #slow burn #ghosts???#terato #exophilia #commission

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a-dragons-journal · 4 years

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My Experiences of Nonhumanity

I get asked about “what makes you/people in general feel you’re/they’re otherkin” a lot, and while the answer is far from simple and my experiences are anything but universal, I figure it deserves a write-up once in a while. A friend asked about it a couple nights ago, so I wrote up a huge long message on Discord, and decided to rewrite it into a Tumblr post for posterity. This’ll be a long one, folks; hit J on desktop to skip.

It’s worth noting ahead of time: none of these things are required to be otherkin, and none of them automatically mean you’re otherkin. In fact, most of them are little more than mildly “weird” quirks when they occur in isolation, and only start to push outside the range of “normal human experiences” when many of them occur together. You can’t look at someone (including yourself) and say “they like collecting things, they must be dragonkin!” It’s not that simple. You have to take the individual as a whole even as you examine each specific experience in more detail - don’t lose the forest while you’re studying the trees. This is just a description of my personal experiences.

Shifts

- Phantom shifts/supernumerary phantom limbs: Probably the most obvious thing and the hardest to brush off, although I still managed to do so for years. Phantom shifts, aka supernumerary phantom limbs, are the experience of feeling limbs or body parts that do not and never have physically existed. In my case, the most common phantom limbs to show up are my wings and tail; other body parts, such as digitigrade legs, horns, snout, and paws/talons, also make appearances less frequently. While my phantom limbs almost never attempt to replicate tactile sensations/interactions with the physical world, they’re often defined by very vivid proprioception (ability to tell where your body is in space, mainly via muscle stretch receptors), and I can tell where each part of the limb is at any given time - it’s not just a shapeless sense of “weight,” or it wouldn’t be phantom limbs. I can also move them at will, typically. My phantom shifts are typically spontaneous and involuntary, but they’ve been induced artificially a couple different ways as well, though I can’t typically do it at will.

- Sensory shifts: Still not something I’m totally sure I experience, but there are definitely times my sense of smell becomes insanely strong compared to usual even for me, which fits the definition of a sensory shift.

- Astral shifts: While I’m far from an adept astral traveler, when visualizing “traveling” within my own mindscape, I shift form fluidly between human and dragon - although I almost always have wings at the very least.

- Cameo shifts: Mentioned only because it’s relevant to my phantom shifts. I realized at some point that the reason I get cameo shifts of canine/feline ears sometimes is because they usually show up when they’re pricking/flattening to express emotion, and the muscles that move to do that action are basically the same as the ones that do those actions with the crest that runs down my neck, and because of my obsession with cats/dogs/horses as a young child and because that’s not a particularly strong phantom shift for me usually, I connected the dots a little wrong and created a false association.

- Self-image: This isn’t technically a shift, but it’s going here anyway because it doesn’t really fit in any other section either. My body image/self-image is weird. I know, consciously, what I physically look like. However, my instinctive self-image is... hmm. What I “expect” to see doesn’t always match up with what’s actually there when I look in the mirror. Teeth are a huge point of fixation for me for some reason; I always expect them to be larger, sharper, stronger. I expect my neck to be longer, my face to be... different. I expect scales in places. I expect claws. Even knowing consciously that of course it won’t be there, it’s still strange sometimes that it’s not. There’s sometimes some mild disconnect when I see myself. (Sometimes not. But sometimes.)

Homesickness

(Or, the sense of missing something you’ve never had - not of “I want/want to be [x], and it makes me sad/upset that I don’t have/am not that,” but of “I should have/be [x], and it is fundamentally wrong that I do/am not.”)

- Flight: I have always wanted to fly, and for a long time I thought everyone ached for the sky the same way I did. Most people don’t, as it turns out. Yes, everyone’s fantasized about flying, but most people don’t feel bones-deep, crushing, physical pain in their chest thinking about it. Most people don’t lift up onto their toes instinctively straining for the sky. I’ve felt that aching longing for it for as long as I can remember.

- Connection to dragons: For as long as I can remember knowing about dragons, I loved the idea of them and even when I was very young, when I’d only really been exposed to media where they were the great evil for the hero to defeat and received no more character development than “evil, destructive, fire-breathing beast,” I was always on the dragon’s side and wanted to learn more about them. That hasn’t faded. I’ll watch an absolutely terrible movie or TV show that I otherwise loathe if it has good enough animation and sound design on the dragons. (Looking at you, Game of Thrones.*) I would commit arson to see one of those Isle-style dragon survival games actually go through and finish production. (Holding out hope for the Dragon Game Project on YouTube; go check them out if you haven’t already.) I’ve also used dragons to represent myself for pretty much as long as I’ve had an online presence - years before I ever heard of otherkin, I was calling myself Dragonheart.

- Dragon-like creatures: Snakes, crocodilians, and dinosaurs all fall into this category - all of them give me a similar heart-and-breathing-pick-up, aching familiarity to dragons. They’re not perfect, but in a snake’s scales and a crocodile’s bellows and a dinosaur’s spectacular reptilian size I see echoes of us and I have always loved them with a passion, even before I quite knew why.

- Dragon/”monster” noises: Sound generators, creature sound design, real animal noises, etc. that are meant to be monstrous and that most people find unsettling or even frightening, I find comforting and relaxing. Alligator bellows, “monster noise” soundscapes, etc. all apply here.

* No shade on anyone who likes Game of Thrones, I’m just not a fan. :P

Behaviors/Instincts/Urges

- Hoarding: I’m still not sure how much of the crystal thing is "monkey brain say Shiney Colorful," how much is a witch thing, and how much is a dragon thing, but some of it is a dragon thing.

- Territorial/possessive nature: I can get... extremely territorial over my stuff and my home. This can extend right into being ridiculously protective of my people too, although I do try to rein that in to a reasonable amount. This also extends into games like Capture the Flag, because put me on defending the border during middle and high school and I got frighteningly territorial. (Fun fact, this extends to spiritual protection stuff and it has almost gotten me in trouble a few times on that front.) The other main side effect is my brain trying to claim completely inappropriate things as “mine,” like every piano I have ever touched or, that one time, the entire city of Portland.

- Prey drive: Going on a walk in the woods with me will always be an exercise in stopping every twenty seconds because I heard a small animal move in the brush and froze instinctively to track it. Prey drive ranges from "okay I can indulge this enough to track-stalk-chase without actually intending to catch-kill-eat" to "this is entirely inappropriate and needs to Stop Right Now" depending on the day and the situation - sometimes it’s fairly low-key and innocent, but sometimes it's also being confronted with the sudden and completely serious/genuine thought of grabbing someone or something by the neck/around the body with your jaws and hunt-prey-kill-devour when it's completely inappropriate and kind of disturbing or even sickening. It’s one of the more annoying things, although it’s not like it’s severe enough that I’m an actual danger to anyone - it’s just a gut thought that gets filtered out at the conscious level without significant problems. This also bleeds into games (I get... maybe a little overenthusiastic during tag) and even watching TV shows or gaming videos - most of the time at least part of me is rooting for the hunter because I relate to them as a fellow predator, even if the audience is supposed to be rooting for the prey - I mean, protagonists.

- Basking/heat-seeking: Probably only partially a dragon thing, but despite the fact that I hate heat in general, radiant/sun heat and heat from a heated surface are both fantastic feelings provided the ambient air temperature isn't too high. I'm guessing this is at least partially a reptile brain thing.

- Height-seeking: Give me a chance to climb up on top of something - a rock, a cliff, a chair, a table, a bunk bed - and look out over everything else, and I'll take it in an instant. Getting to climb up on the roof is the best thing that's happened to me this entire quarantine.

- Flight instinct: Being mildly leery of cliffs not because I am afraid of falling, because I'm really not, but because there's always some part of my brain that goes "jump, fly, this is a perfect takeoff spot" and I have to squash that before I do something particularly stupid. This manifests in other ways, but that's the most dramatic (and annoying) one. This is also one of the things I noticed as definitively not normal long before my awakening. (The Grand Canyon was fun.) Similarly to the prey drive thing, it's not like I'm actually in danger of throwing myself off cliffs, it’s just - there's a not-insignificant part of my brain that thinks "hey we should go run and jump off and take a quick flight," in the same way I might also casually think "hey I should stroll across to the corner store for a bag of chips" before I consciously decide whether or not to do that. It’s the exact same type of thought process, despite the fact that one of those things is something I might do on any given school day, and the other is, you know, physically impossible.

- Combat instincts: I get in a fight and my pure instinct is to bite or claw, not kick or punch or whatever it is humans do instinctively. I have those reflexes now courtesy of Krav, but I had to train them in - if you’d thrown me into a fight before, I absolutely would have resorted to claws/nails and teeth immediately (and I still will, when pressed into a corner). Sometimes, unfortunately, this goes off completely unwarranted, either in an anger situation that does not deserve a physical response, or for no apparent reason whatsoever. It's one of the more problematic things, but once again - it’s not like it’s a compulsion, just a gut-emotion thought that gets filtered out at the conscious level.

- Scent focus: Who knows how much of this is environmental influence and how much is instinctive, but I always have and still do focus on scent more than most humans seem to. I can identify people by scent, I seem to pay more attention to it than most people do. I also seem less bothered by natural body smells than most people do, but considering the responses when I asked around in the otherkin community once about that, unclear whether or not that's connected.

- Nonhuman noises: I make just a bunch of weird nonhuman noises, and always have. Growls, hisses, croons, hurrs, throat-clicks, chirps, etc. I've never met any human who does them instinctively like I do except my half-sister (whom I didn’t meet until a couple years ago), and she was just as surprised to hear me do it as I was surprised to hear her do it.

- Affection: Face-rubbing, light head-bonking against someone’s shoulder/body/head, and love nips/bites are all perfectly acceptable ways to show platonic affection, to dragon brain. Human society disagrees. The instinct to do these things is so strong that I definitely do give into the first two with people I’m close with, and I have physically had to catch and restrain myself when I was about to unthinkingly bite/nip someone’s skin because I wasn’t paying enough attention.

- Movement: Moving on all fours just feels better than moving on two legs, even though it’s objectively physically uncomfortable because humans aren’t built for that. I also have the instinctive want to be a lot more flexible than I’m capable of being, in ways I’m not capable of being - curling all the way around something or someone to squeeze them tight in the coil of my body, turning my head a hundred eighty degrees because my neck Should Be Longer.

- Expression: Baring one’s teeth when frustrated, irritated, or angry is not a particularly human instinct. I realize it’s something a lot of primates do do, but. *gestures at society* Humans ain’t one of them, at least not anymore. Even in Krav Maga, which is a self-defense style that focuses on being vicious and “dirty fighting” to survive a real street fight, every single time I have a new partner (and most times I have a partner I’ve worked with before) and I get tired enough to get snarly, they respond with some variation of “god that’s scary”. See also: gesturing at things with my nose because it should be long enough to make that a much more dramatic gesture than it ends up being.

- Den/lair/small spaces: I never feel safer than when curled up in a tiny alcove just big enough to comfortably fit my body curled up into it. The only position I’ll prioritize over it is getting up onto a high space.

Past Life Work

Unlike every other bullet point on this list, most of these didn’t apply until I started actively seeking them out, because, you know. Past life memories are like that.

- Past life regressions: I’ve got a tag for these, but tl;dr I take anything I learn from a past life regression or similar meditation/visualization with a whole spoonful of salt, forget “a grain,” because I know for a fact my brain is very good at making stuff up with these types of exercises. Unfortunately, they’re the only way to get information on certain things, like appearance.

- Tarot: Got a tag for that too. I use tarot to ask questions and confirm or reject suspicions.

- Spontaneous memories: I don’t have many, but they’re clear as day when they do appear. I don’t count something as a “true” memory unless it includes senses I can’t reproduce through imagination - smell and touch, mainly. Mostly these are quick flashbulbs, nothing cinematic or anything like that.

- Noemata: Again, I don’t have much in the way of noemata, but what I do have is persistent and consistent. I know things about my wing shape and flight style despite not having really experienced that in detail during past life regressions. That particular set of noemata has been confirmed to fit with real-world physics and bat wing shapes (the closest wing type to mine that exists or has existed on Earth).

#think that about sums it up #otherkin #dragonkin #this got real long #long post #journaling #rani talks #feel free to reblog if you like

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pascalls · 3 years

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Blinding Lights

Charlie finds solace in a familiar face after a run-in with Lovejoy.

I WANTED TO WRITE SOME CHARLIE x SAM ROMANCE SO HERE YOU GO.

Music: Blinding Lights - The Weeknd

For once, the anticipation that had settled in his clawed toes was not unpleasant.

It had been about three weeks since he’d last seen his… friend. Sam had ventured off on one of his lengthy hauls and Charlie was left to try making conversation with Larry whenever he stopped by Moe’s after work. The man was not the best conversationalist. Even less so than Sam. But it was, at least, company. Even if the late nights were earning him some ire whenever he made an attempt to return to the Lovejoy’s. Which he was beginning to fret about, whenever it came time to do so. Helen had been suspicious, as of late, wandering down into the basement at inopportune times and forcing the hybrid to take cover behind some piece of furniture or clamber out the window before he could be spotted.

Helen was clever. It wouldn’t take her very long to figure out what was going on, if he wasn’t cautious.

So he spent more time away, taking advantage of Moe’s cranky brand of hospitality and crashing in the man’s bed alongside him on more than one occasion. Regrettably, the paychecks that were coming from the school were still not enough for him to find his own place. But it was enough to make sure that he could get food regularly and the occasional small trinket or gift for Connor when he was able to see his son.

It was an improvement.

The muggy late-Spring air signified that they were certainly in for some heat in the upcoming summer season. Despite the slight slick of sweat that had coated his back as he strolled down the sidewalk, he didn’t allow the humidity to dampen his spirits. A busy day at the school - there had been an unfortunate incident where several gym students ran headlong into some cacti that Willie had forgotten to remove before the class encountered it - had meant that he was looking forward to meeting Sam in the evening to unwind.

Since the fall, where Charlie had allowed a bit of drunken boldness to make a move on the older man - one that he hadn’t been sure would be reciprocated - the two spent quite a bit of time together. It was a pleasant contrast to the nearly constant paranoia that he dealt with when he spent any modicum of time with the reverend. Something internal told him that this was a good thing, but he did his best not to get too carried away. Even if he and Sam had shared a few more… intimate moments, he was loathe to get so comfortable that he expected it as a default of their ‘relationship’. Whatever that relationship was. It had not been so neatly defined thus far. Part of him was okay with that - it meant that perhaps he was not in so deep that he could make a drastic mistake. But the other part of him… Well. He was desperate, deep down, for some solid footing.

Luckily, he was patient.

As he watched the sun begin to dip beyond the horizon, Charlie made his way towards the depot where he knew Sam left his truck. At times, the man would opt to sleep in the cab instead of actually trying to get back to his home. And Charlie didn’t mind that so much. There was something homey and comforting about that tiny bedroom where they didn’t have much of a choice but to press into each other’s personal space. It made for a good wingman… on more than one occasion. But his desires were not always so lecherous, he reminded himself. Today, he just wanted to bring his friend a hot meal that he’d picked up on the way - some teriyaki chicken and chow mein, along with a few cans of Duff - and make up for the lost time. Sam had confided into his more than once that life on the road was a bit dull and dreary. Returning to Springfield was generally the highlight. Charlie had agreed, but did his best to not be… so blatantly enthusiastic about it.

Tugging uncomfortably at his mask, he eagerly picked up the pace. Sam had told him that he’d be back by seven-thirty, and it was nearing eight already. Charlie looked forward to ditching his uncomfortable attire in favor of just being himself. Sam had kept his word - that he would not tell anyone about Charlie’s secret - and had kept that just between them. Even when they were around Moe, who was just as wise to the truth as they were. Charlie respected the man’s ability to keep things to himself, and he welcomed the fact that Sam didn’t seem to mind at all. It was a little strange, he told Charlie once. But, he admitted, that he’d seen a lot stranger during his years on the road. Charlie didn’t argue with that, even if his hind-brain wanted to. But it made the nights that they spent together a lot less strenuous. No hiding, no pretense. Sam was easy-going and confident in himself and what he liked. The hybrid found it… a little intimidating, at times. And might have found it almost frightening if Sam didn’t have a distinct way of putting him at ease.

Ugh. He felt himself a little hot in the face, just thinking about it.

His route took him past the church where he hesitated, feeling sweat bead at his temple for an entirely different reason. Hidden underneath his disguise though he was, there was something oppressive about the building that loomed overhead. He’d been hesitant to be seen in the church anywhere near the reverend as of late. It had a tendency to come back to bite him. He’d also pulled himself away from Chalmers’ obvious attempts at corralling him into this or that. Alarm bells had been set off at some point and he panicked, keeping his distance from both Tim and Gary for the sake of his own hide. Something had told him that despite his churning desire to be wanted by either - or both - of them, it was unwise.

Still… it was hard to ignore those desires. Every time he caught Lovejoy’s eyes, it opened up a whole box of feelings that he tried his hardest to cram down. The effort made him want to puke, at the best of times. At the worst of times, he followed his feet and simply absconded from the situation.

“I see that you’re purposefully avoiding me,” said a voice from a few feet away. It made Charlie jump and nearly drop the noodles in his possession, but he managed to keep his grip on it, glancing over at the church’s sign which had been hiding the reverend in question. Oh. He must have been changing the words and… Charlie hadn’t noticed.

Defensive, Charlie let out a little snuff. But he did his best to keep his cool. He didn’t want to ruin his mood by getting into an argument. Especially not when he was already late in meeting Sam. The last thing he wanted was for the other man to think Charlie had stood him up. “I had plans. And I’ve been busy with work. I’m not avoiding you.” Internally, he wondered if maybe he was trying to reassure Tim. That he hadn’t forgotten about him. Even if their encounters were strained, once upon a time, he thought that the man might return those torrid feelings that the hybrid had clung to now for months.

“You’ve had a lot of plans the last couple of weeks,” Lovejoy replied, clearly suspicious of the hybrid’s motives. He shut the box of letters he’d been using to change out the sign, glancing down at the bag of food that Charlie was carrying. “Are you doing food delivery now?”

“No,” Charlie said calmly, ignoring the reverend’s initial observation. Sure. He had plans a lot. Which was mostly just crashing with Moe. But Lovejoy didn’t need to know every detail of his life. “If you wanted me to share my calendar with you, I would have. But you never asked.” It was a bit of a dig. To make Tim really consider how overbearing he was being. As usual, it probably wouldn't work. But that wouldn’t keep Charlie from making the attempt anyway. The holy man was usually too far up his own ass to realize.

Lovejoy tried his best to maintain his composure, drifting closer to the hybrid as if he were going to engage in friendly conversation with a parishioner. As he was expected to do. But his stare was still accusatory. And Charlie noticed that it looked like the man wasn’t getting much sleep, the dark circles underneath his eyes even more prominent. “Not knowing whether or not you’re down there makes it hard for me to figure out what I need to do to keep Helen off your trail. Checking in would at least be appreciated.”

The hybrid stared at Tim, trying his best not to let guilt jab at him from somewhere in the back of his mind. No, it wasn’t his problem if Tim wanted to continue to lie to Helen, whether or not Charlie was there. At this point, he was loath to say that he even wanted to keep being a secret from the reverend’s wife. The town gossip though she was, would anyone really believe her if she happened to mention that there was a reptilian succubus living in her basement?

Probably not.

Charlie breathed out a little sigh, leveling his stare at the other and refusing to duck his head to appear meek. “Then just assume I’m not. I’m making a fair enough income now. I can find other places to sleep that are a little more comfortable than under your train set.” It was a lie. Sort of. The income had nothing to do with the fact that he had an ally or two that he could rely on for a nice, warm bed. Even if Moe’s had a weird smell to it, he at least had a mattress. And Waylon was occasionally accommodating, as long as Charlie could provide a bit of ‘entertainment’ and distractions in the process. And Sam… Well… When he was in town, Charlie had never been turned away. It brought a bit of a warm feeling that settled in his belly and emboldened him just a little in the face of the reverend.

Tim looked a bit taken aback. As if he’d been slightly offended. “So… what, you don’t need me anymore?” It had been clearly meant as an attack, but there was a slight twinge of hurt in the man’s voice.

The hybrid looked away briefly, not meeting Tim’s gaze. He recognized when he was being guilted. Lovejoy was good at it. “That’s not what I said.” Maybe. Maybe he didn’t need Tim anymore. Despite the aching in his chest, he’d long-since been affirmed that there was nothing for him if he chased the expectation of being welcomed into the reverend’s arms. But he hesitated to admit that here and now. Not when he was running late to meet Sam. “I’m not ungrateful,” he continued. “I just… I’m not interested in burdening you with myself for any longer than I need to. You can’t tell me you don’t want that space back to yourself?” He turned the situation back around on Lovejoy, pressing him to say otherwise. Maybe trying to get him to admit something one way or another.

“I’m only concerned with what you’re telling people about me,” Tim said, tension in his shoulders. He didn’t like being cornered like that, Charlie knew.

“I’m not telling people anything. Even if I did, who would believe me? You’ve got… y’know. Jesus on your side or whatever. Anyone here would take your word over mine in a heartbeat.”

Lovejoy found it hard to argue with that, but he chased the urge to do so, taking a step which blocked Charlie’s way forward. Whether he did it on purpose or not, Charlie felt slightly threatened, feeling his scales bristle in mild fear underneath his clothes. The time was ticking by. Sam would undoubtedly believe that something had happened if the hybrid didn’t get going now.

“You’re my responsibility. If I let you wander around without knowing where you are or what you’re doing, who’s to say that Burns won’t come looking for you?” Lovejoy stared at Charlie with apparent conviction. “The bible says that a good shepherd lays down his life for his sheep.”

“I’m not a sheep!” Charlie snapped, though he did his best to keep his voice down. It was not yet night and there could be others passing by. “I’m sick of you calling me that. I wasn’t put here for you to guide me to the light. You’ve got plenty of people in there,” he pointed to the church, “waiting for you to tell them what to do and how to live. Just because you hit me with your car doesn’t make me one of them.” Angry though he was, he wanted nothing more than to leave. End the conversation. Do not pass Go. Do not collect $200. So he pushed past the other, trying to make his way towards the depot again.

“I just want to save you!” Lovejoy called after him, desperation lacing his tone. But Charlie was not feeling kind.

“From what?” He called back to the other, whirling around to narrow eyes at him. “From my Sin? Because right now, the only thing I need to be saved from is you.”

Tim paused, clearly taken aback. “You don’t mean that.”

Exhaling into his mask, Charlie bit back an aggressive retort. “I only have so much fight in me,” he said, loud enough just for the other to hear above the buzzing of the nearby street lamp. “I can’t keep chasing something that you’ve told me time and time again is wrong. You tear me apart in six different ways every time you look at me and you still expect me to get on my knees and beg you for a single positive interaction. I don’t want to do that anymore.” He sighed again, shoulders slumping. “You know how I feel. How I’ve felt. If you don’t want to - or can’t - return that, then the onus is on me to move on.”

The reverend seemed rooted to the spot, unable to say anything in return for a few moments. As if he was having a hard time refuting what he was being told. Charlie knew he couldn’t. It had been more than enough times that he’d said to the hybrid that what he felt was wrong - they couldn’t be together. No matter what emotion or desire lay underneath the surface of Lovejoy’s religious shell. And Charlie was simply tired.

“I-” Tim began. But he was cut off as he looked up to see that they were no longer alone.

“Charlie?”

The hybrid turned back around to see that their conversation had been interrupted by Sam. He blinked in surprise, then moderate embarrassment. “God, what time is it?” He said, haphazardly trying to cover up what he and Lovejoy had just been discussing. “I didn’t mean to make you come this way to find me. I was on my way, honestly.” Sheepishly, Charlie smiled from behind his mask. It wasn’t immediately obvious, but Sam’s easy-going nature meant that he could return the gesture just as easily.

“It’s alright. I just thought something mighta happened. Glad t’see that you weren’t held up too much,” Sam replied cheerfully before his attention shifted to the reverend to whom he gave a courteous nod. “Rev.”

Lovejoy was tense from head-to-toe, forced to process Charlie’s last words and put one and one together to come to a conclusion that Charlie knew he’d hear about later. The reverend’s gaze was squarely on the barfly before he was able to regather his composure and return the nod. He didn’t know the man’s name. Had never bothered learning it, even if Sam made the rare appearance from time to time in the church. He had no particularly strong religious convictions.

Charlie glanced back at Tim nervously. No doubt, they’d have to pick up that conversation later. “It was nice to see you, Reverend,” he said after a moment. “We’ll chat again soon.”

Sam looked from Charlie over to Lovejoy, the tension in the air palpable. But he said nothing, gesturing for the hybrid to accompany him back to the depot. His home was a little too far for them to walk there without the trip taking them well into the night. So the truck would have to do for now. Not that he or Charlie minded very much.

Charlie followed behind, casting one last look at Lovejoy. He could swear that the holy man looked like he was about to break into a tirade, but he heard nothing and eventually focused fully back on Sam, hoping that his pre-planned rendezvous would block out the feeling that he’d just shattered Lovejoy’s heart in some type of way. Maybe because he knew how it felt…

“You alright?”

Sam’s voice broke through the veil of guilt that threatened to pull Charlie under. Shaking it off, Charlie glanced up at the other and nodded, allowing himself a slightly nervous laugh. “Yeah. Just… you know. Getting preached at sometimes kind of throws me off.”

“Didn’t seem like a typical sermon,” Sam replied, glancing at Charlie knowingly from behind his glasses.

Clearing his throat, Charlie tried not to make eye contact. He had a… difficult time lying to Sam. Whether it was because he genuinely trusted the man or didn’t want to lie to him, he wasn’t sure which. But he didn’t want to get into the particulars. Especially not when he felt like it… might put things at risk. Nope, he didn’t want that. “I brought you some food!” He said instead, holding up the bag with the chicken and noodles within. Hoping that would be a sufficient distraction. Luckily, Sam seemed to accept that the hybrid was not an open book at that exact moment, and he took the bag from the other before patting Charlie’s plastic beak affectionately.

“Y’can take that off if y’want. There’s nobody on these side streets and nobody at the depot. We shouldn’t be bothered any.”

Breathing out a little sigh of relief, Charlie tugged off the mask and cloak, holding them in his arms as they walked. It was becoming more of a chore to keep his disguise maintained from day to day. Whenever he got the opportunity to not wear it, he considered it a blessing.

“That’s better,” the barfly said with a little smile.

Charlie had to keep himself from giggling like a fucking school girl. Fuck. What was wrong with him? They’d certainly had more intimate moments than this, but something as simple as that tiny, hidden compliment had him reeling. Stupid.

They walked side by side until the depot fence came into view and the hybrid followed Sam through the gate and towards his rig. The bright red was always a stand-out and made it easy to identify. He was thankful for that, knowing that had he not been able to tell the difference, he may have frightened some random trucker on more than one occasion.

“Wasn’t too bad of a trip, I take it?” Charlie asked as he came to the door, waiting patiently as it was unlocked and Sam clambered inside, reaching out to offer a hand for Charlie to climb up right after him.

“Boring, but otherwise pretty run of th’mill,” Sam replied, shutting the door behind him and making his way back to the not-very-roomy bedroom that he slept in. Charlie set the bits of his disguise in the front seat and hopped back with him, making himself comfortable on the bed and giving a lazy stretch. Sam settled on the floor for now, opening up the food that Charlie had brought him and making short work of it. Obviously hungry.

“You never seem to have very interesting stories. Unless you keep them all under wraps.” Charlie scooted up behind Sam, rolling onto his back on the bed and batting gently at the man’s hat like a lazy cat.

“Warehouses and truck stops don’t really make for interestin’ conversation.” Sam removed his hat and placed it over Charlie’s face with a gentle huff of laughter in between bites of his food. Something about his rumble of a laugh made the hybrid’s stomach flip pleasantly. It was a comforting sound after his earlier confrontation with Lovejoy. “Besides, I have more interestin’ stories whenever you drag me into somethin’. Wouldn’ make sense t’tell you about ‘em when you were there.”

“Aw,” Charlie replied, sitting up and setting the man’s hat atop his own head to wear. Feeling a little goofy and giddy as he did so. “Didn’t realize you felt that way.~” His voice lilted teasingly as he settled into their usual back-and-forth routine of flirt after flirt. Despite Sam’s quiet, old-man demeanor that he normally carried around, they both played off each other fairly well. It was something Charlie cherished. And something he figured that not many others were able to experience when they were sharing Sam’s company. It made him feel… special. Wanted.

He kept that bit to himself.

“So…” Sam began once he’d finished his food and was working on one of the beer’s that Charlie had provided him with. The hybrid was not as interested in getting drunk tonight, but he’d more than adjusted to the perpetual scent of alcohol and cigarettes that had long-since settled into Sam’s clothes. In fact… there was a part of him that enjoyed it. “I’m guessin’ I didn’t actually interrupt a sermon earlier.”

Charlie tensed slightly, reaching up to remove Sam’s hat and set it aside as he shifted his gaze away from the other. Guilt threatened to bubble up inside of his gut again. “...That obvious, huh.”

“A little. Th’way he was lookin’ at you made it look like you’d ran over his dog.”

Scoffing, Charlie didn’t answer right away. Uncomfortable with the topic, but knowing that he likely owed Sam some form of explanation. He trusted the man. Though he worried, internally, that getting too far into his fucked up dynamic with the reverend would frighten Sam away for one reason or another.

“He was just upset that I wasn’t coming around as often. Mostly just been… minding my business whenever you’re not here. Hanging out with Moe… That kind of thing.” He hesitated to go into further detail than that. Sam didn’t need to know that he occasionally slept over with Smithers too. It made him feel like a little bit of a… slut… Not that he would say so.

“Uh-huh,” Sam replied, nursing his beer and seemingly lost in thought until he continued. “And he’s… not likin’ that he can’t keep tabs on you?”

“...Possibly.”

“Hm. Sounds like he’s upset that you’re not as obsessive over him as he wants you t’be.”

Charlie frowned a little to himself. Sam had probably hit the nail on the head. His tail curled around himself as his insecurities were brought to light, though he had a hard time being upset at Sam about it. The man was only saying what he’d been able to observe. It must have been pretty obvious, now that Charlie thought about it… “I’m sick of his hovering. It’s gotten out of control.”

“And y’told him that?”

“I tried to.” Charlie’s ears dropped back against his hair, admitting in a not-so-verbal way that he had not been as assertive as he probably should have been.

There was silence for a moment as Charlie stared down at the sheets on the bed and Sam seemed to be focused on his drink. Until he seemed to be finished with it and set it aside to toss in the garbage later, getting up with some effort and getting himself into the bed to sit next to the hybrid. Charlie glanced away from him. A bit ashamed that the topic of Lovejoy had been brought up at all. Drunkard or otherwise, Sam had some good powers of observation. As much as Charlie enjoyed his company, it made him feel like he was being seen right through.

“He’s gonna have t’accept that you’re your own person eventually. Whether or not he wants to,” Sam finally said after a few minutes had passed.

“I’m not even sure I’ve accepted that yet,” Charlie responded with a bit of a bitter laugh. He hadn’t meant to say that, but it came out of him all the same. “And the last thing I need is to put the burden on you to help me do that. It’s not your responsibility.” He found himself echoing what he’d told Lovejoy, but from… a different part of himself. With Lovejoy, it was through tired defeat that he tried to remove himself from the situation, but now… He just didn’t want to saddle Sam with more drama that the man surely didn’t need in his relatively quiet life.

Before he realized it, he felt a press against his shoulder, turning to glance at Sam as the other closed the distance between them, watching for a heart-pounding moment as the barfly reached to intertwine their pinkies as they had done several times before. It was a much more romantic gesture than Charlie had initially meant it to be the first time they’d done it. But now… It set his nerves alight and made him wish that his face weren’t so red.

“Might not be my responsibility, but m’happy to help you along,” he murmured to Charlie, the slight slur in his words not at all dampening the intent which made the hybrid wheeze a little with embarrassment as he unwittingly scooted his hand to take a more firm hold of Sam’s. Maybe clinging to it. Just a little. God help him.

“You could really fool everyone, you know. Into thinking you’re just ‘some guy’ at the bar,” Charlie said after a moment of trying to calm his racing heart. “And not… you. The you that I know.”

Sam chuckled a little. “The me that you know is not as drunk as I usually am.” Leaning over, he pressed a kiss to Charlie’s temple. A gesture which did not qualm the aggressive thump-thump going on inside of Charlie’s chest. He didn’t altogether understand why he couldn’t get himself together. He was not unfamiliar with the concept of being smitten, but he’d been denied a positive response to it for so long, that he hesitated to call it that this time too.

At least until another kiss was placed to the side of his face and he faltered, unable to resist allowing himself to hope. Maybe it would be different. Lovejoy never gave him this kind of affection so openly. Not without a fair amount of pestering. Not without an argument and harsh words. Not without pleading and tears and a thick, heavy feeling that hung around his head. Right now… all he felt was light. There was fear, but as the seconds ticked by, Charlie tried to muffle it.

And eventually he turned, meeting Sam’s gaze for a prolonged moment. It was honest, he thought. There was no sense of an ulterior motive. No reason for Charlie to believe that this was all a long-con. Sam was not that kind of man. Right?

Right?

His hesitation was not missed. Reaching up with his other hand - his fingers rough and calloused, Charlie noticed - Sam placed it gently against Charlie’s cheek. Holding his face delicately and softly, as though he was trying to provide the kindest support. To offer warmth through the touch that would squelch that fear.

God, Charlie thought.

Let me not be wrong again.

As though a dam had burst, Charlie leaned forward and captured Sam’s mouth with his own, drawing him into a heated and nearly desperate kiss that Sam returned after a moment of trying to process the act. Every time Sam went away for a while, the hybrid forgot just how warm and comforting his kisses were. His hands were strong, but kind. He tasted like beer and smoke, but Charlie couldn’t get enough. He drank in the affection to the point where he thought that it would drown him. But it would be a sweet death, Charlie thought.

For once, he forgot about Lovejoy. As he broke the kiss to take in a breath, he caught Sam’s eyes again.

“I missed you,” he blurted out against the other man’s lips, red in the face when he realized how brazen the admission was. But he certainly wouldn’t take it back. The feeling was only solidified with Sam nodded, a bit breathy in his murmur of agreement before Charlie felt himself being pulled into another kiss, toppling over and onto the bed as he felt Sam’s arms closing around him.

It hadn’t been the first time they’d spent the night together, but there was something different now. Charlie hesitated to put words to it, but as he felt himself get lost in the comfort and security of Sam’s presence, he knew that he would have to, eventually.

For now, he was okay with accepting the warmth and safety he was being offered. He was okay with murmuring more sweet words when he could find the words to say. He was okay with being vulnerable. He was okay with the warm, smoky sound of Sam’s voice in his ear. He was okay with the touch of his hands; the heat between their kisses; the thrumming of his own heart.

He thought about the next time Sam would have to go away for a while. It made him ache.

Maybe he’d tag along.

In the corner, his phone lay unattended, dutifully remaining in silent mode as the night wore on. The screen blinked lazily, but otherwise didn’t bother to alert its owner that he had missed several calls from the reverend.

They would go unanswered tonight.

#tj writes #the simpsons #simpsona #oc #only took me like 4 hours LOL

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stardustndice · 4 years

Text

——A Fire Exit. A Sword-Fight. An Overdue Discussion.

Part 2 of 2 of an FBI AU Obi Wan Kenobi x Reader Story. Read Part 1 Here.

a/n: It’s finally here! I’m so sorry this took so long, everyone. I’ve been so busy figuring out plans for my freshman year of college and I graduated high school! Very exciting. Anyways, please enjoy the final part, I’m very proud of it. Props to @hellotherekenobi for spawning this fic. Couldn’t have done it without ya.

tag list (either you asked to be tagged or I like your writing a whole lot): @kaminobiwan @karasong @morganas-pendragons (if you want to be tagged in future fics, lmk!)

warnings: mention of blood, minor violence, some hot stuff near the end ;)

“Because she isn’t you.”

You thought it was impossible to have the air knocked out of your lungs without having been pushed onto the ground. Evidently not.

Your heart feels like it’s about to tear itself out of your chest and blood is rushing to your cheeks as thousands of possibilities sprint across your thoughts. Every time you’d seen him in the past, scanned his face, or gazed at him when his back was turned, you always assumed he didn’t feel the same way, that you didn’t deserve someone so kind, so hardworking, so passionate about protecting the innocent. To your surprise and excitement, you were wrong.

Another shriek from the hostage wrenches you out of your daydreaming. The Negotiator steps into view of the abductor, but not before nodding at the collection of terrified patrons huddled near the bar and meeting your eyes. You get the gist and begin to step towards them, avoiding the neon spotlights shining from the ceiling. Scanning the room quickly, a fire exit catches your eye on the other end of the bar, just a short distance from the room Orwen expected you to ‘service’ him in.

“Rheva, I need you to talk to me,” you hear Kenobi say calmly. His shockingly calm demeanor when negotiating never fails to shock you but you still feel an ounce of worry at his seemingly nonchalant tone in these situations. “What happened?”

You can’t afford to turn around as you begin leading partiers out of the exit. You don’t want to know the possible carnage that could ensue in the event that such a delicate position is compromised.

“You think I’m an idiot, Kenobi?” someone sneers, you assume Rheva. “No one wears a fucking suit and tie to Kina’s, not unless they’re looking for something.” You hear an exasperated sigh from your partner and you suppress a giggle. As they continue speaking, a Togruta gives you a look of shock, probably at your giggling during a hostage situation. You shoo him to the exit. Once everyone besides a few stiff, armed guards remain, you turn to see how Obi Wan is doing, moving silently until you’re merely a few steps behind him.

“I know you’re looking for me. You and your pretty little friend,” Rheva spits, gesturing to you with her knife. At this point, the hostage, a girl who looks to be in her early twenties, is hysterical. Tears are streaming down her face and she’s frantically looking between you and Obi Wan, desperate for eye contact. Despite his deescalation expertise, you see Obi Wan tense slightly at Rheva’s not-so-fond nickname for you.

“Rheva, we’re looking for Sarek, not you. Has he done something to you?” Obi asks softly, cautiously taking a step forward. Almost imperceptibly, Rheva starts to shake, her grip on the knife becoming weaker. Both you and your partner notice. Your partner’s patience is thicker than yours, though, as he spots you itching to quickly diffuse the situation.

“He can’t...if I tell you, I’m dead!” she shrieks. Obi Wan’s brows furrow. This is new information. If Sarek has been telling whomever he sleeps with about his plans, then you’ve had everything you need without even knowing it.

“Tell us what?” you chime in, taking a step to stand at Kenobi’s side. You hear a clatter behind you and you turn quickly, pistol drawn. A trandoshan hisses and licks his fangs, the last thing you glimpse before someone hits you in the back of your head and the world goes dark.

Someone poking your cheek gently rouses you into the conscious world. You groan lazily until a harsh slap hits your cheek. At that, the world rushes into your brain like ice water dumped on a drunk sorority girl. After several rapid blinks to clear your cloudy vision, you whip your head towards the source of the hit.

Sarek grants you a sinister grin, his lizard tongue darting out to sound a signature trandoshan hiss. It doesn’t take long for you to realize that your hands are tied behind your chair with zip ties. A spark of hope flies in your chest.

Sarek will regret not using handcuffs later.

It’s not long before that spark is snuffed out and replaced with a venomous anger. A grunt sounds from behind Sarek and your eyes dart away from his pale golden eyes. Obi Wan is in the same predicament, although his left eye is now outlined in a garish, swelling plum. As your blood boils you look around for an escape route. Nothing adorns the dusty concrete walls besides cracks and mold, so you assume however Sarek entered the room is out of your line of sight.

“Maybe your friend isn’t as tight-lipped as you, Kenobi,” Sarek drones, and you wrench your head away when he drags a claw down your jaw. A cry escapes you when he grasps your hair and yanks your head back towards him. It’s truly painful, though, when he steps aside, still holding your hair, to show your partner. When you make eye contact with him, ashamed, his eyes widen and his mouth opens barely, only to be replaced immediately by an angry mask. “Don’t touch her, Sarek.”

“And why not? What exactly are you going to do about it tied to a chair?” Sarek giggles maniacally, his back to you but you’re sure he’s baring his teeth grotesquely.

As quietly as possible, you begin to shimmy your hands, now in fists, out of the zip tie. It stabs into your wrists, but adrenaline and determination push you to keep pulling and twisting. Your partner notices your efforts and focuses on Sarek. He takes a leap of faith.

“We have Kaiela.”

For a moment you pause, your head shooting up to raise a shocked brow at Obi Wan, but he doesn’t return your gaze, and you quickly resume your task, praying that his risky bluff won’t get the both of you executed. You’re not too worried; Obi Wan has a 100% success rate at life-or-death mission improv thus far.

“If you let us go, we’ll give you two a happy little reunion,” Obi snarks. Time passes as Sarek stares down at Obi Wan, who huffs a strand of hair out of his eyes, all the while maintaining Sarek’s gaze. You’ve nearly wrangled yourself out of the zip ties when Sarek’s cackle makes your heart drop. “Oh, Kenobi, you handsome idiot,” he drawls and leans forward, whispering loudly “she’s with me.”

Everything happens at once. The zip ties snap apart and you lunge for Sarek right as he turns to smirk at you. His smile vanishes and you deliver a powerful blow to his solar plexus and he crumples gracelessly to the ground. Your eyes narrow when you notice an empty sheath for a small knife on his waist and look at Obi Wan. The world screeches to a halt for the second time tonight when you see a knife sticking out of his stomach. You spring up to inspect his wound and he winces when you touch the handle. Taking it out would make matters much worse. “Christ, I’m glad you never became a doctor,” he mumbles while you snatch another knife from Sarek’s inventory.

“We don’t have much time. He’ll only be out for another minute or so. We have to leave. Were you conscious when he dragged us in here?” you ask. Obi Wan nods and looks somewhere behind you. Once you follow his gaze after cutting him free, you see a large metal door. It takes some effort, but you manage to help him limp out the door only to groan upon seeing Sarek’s garishly-decorated office. A gold chandelier hangs from the marble ceiling and plush fur rugs are piled on top of each other in a seating area by the exit, you assume to whatever ‘jail’ the two of you were dragged here from. Floor-to-ceiling windows offer a view of the starlit harbor, the ocean peacefully rolling into wooden pillars holding up the dock.

Halfway across the room: that’s how far you get before you wince upon hearing a metal slam and reptilian growl from behind you. You’re surprised when Obi Wan stands on his own to turn to Sarek, determined. Sarek, however, is not nearly as composed. Both of you sidestep Sarek’s messy charge, but you tense when he quickly pulls out...a sword? If it wasn’t for your partner slowly bleeding out and how painful your heels are getting, you'd laugh, but Sarek holds the blade to Obi Wan’s throat and backs him into the burgundy wallpaper in front of you.

By the grace of the gods, you spot an atrocious-looking display to your left, holding a gaudy and intricate broadsword. The rug helps muffle your footsteps, and the sword smoothly slides out of its mount. It’s surprisingly light and you whirl around to see Obi Wan struggling to push Sarek away. With all the strength of an MLB pitcher, you hurl the broadsword into the wall to his right. The blade sinks into the wall with a solid thunk and the practically-bedazzled handle wobbles back and forth next to Kenobi’s head. He then offers a sly grin that releases a cage of butterflies in your abdomen and yanks the sword out of the wall and brandishes it out in front of him. Sarek leaps back in the nick of time, nearly getting sliced in the belly.

You suddenly get an odd feeling of déjà vu.

Stress festers in the pit of your stomach as you watch Obi Wan and Sarek dance around each other, composing a metal rhythm as they lunge for the other’s vital organs. Sarek’s knife is still lodged in Obi Wan’s stomach and you fidget. “Please be careful,” you yell halfheartedly over the clanging, “You do remember your stab wound, don’t you?” Obi Wan glances over at you for a split second and gives you a cheeky grin. “Are you sure I’ve been stabbed? I hardly feel a thing!” he puffs, ducking under a particularly clumsy swing from Sarek. You roll your eyes but the duel escalates quickly when the exit bangs open harshly, and in piles an assortment of trandoshans, each of them wielding a firearm of some kind.

A snicker sounds from Obi Wan’s opponent. Kenobi drops the broadsword and backs away from Sarek and his rapidly-advancing cohorts. Tension has clogged the room at this point. It’s silent until Obi grabs a heavy-looking vase and unceremoniously chucks it at the window. Before you know it, he’s wrapped an arm around your waist and takes one, two, three steps and leaps out into the air above the water. You shriek and clutch at the back of Obi Wan’s suit jacket, shutting your eyes tight and bracing yourself for the icy plunge.

It never comes. Instead, a loud thump rattles your bones and forces your eyes open. The first thing you notice is that Obi Wan is still holding onto you. More importantly, he’s rubbing circles into your back to try and help you relax. You scramble gracelessly off of him and look around. A consistent dripping noise echoes around the space and you discover that somehow you’re in an open space under Sarek’s office, which was sticking out from the building and over the water like a sore thumb. Your eyes trace a long black wire leading from the edge of the building to your location. You squint at Obi Wan. “There’s no way you could’ve known that wire would be there.”

He chuckles. “I was fully prepared to go for a swim before I spotted it. It would’ve been a pity to ruin such a nice dress.” You stick your tongue out at him and he softly jabs you in the waist, eliciting a very mature squeak from you. Once he winces from laughter your face softens. “Let’s get you to a corner store and grab a first aid kit. If you’ve gone this long without passing out from blood loss the knife must not have punctured anything vital,” you tell him, gently touching his abdomen. He’s silent and you look up at him to see him...avoiding your gaze? You realize you’re still touching him and jerk your hand away like you’d just burned it.

“Are you worried about me?” he laughs, beaming. In retaliation (and to hide your glowing cheeks), you move to support Obi Wan and begin to lead him out towards the street, purposely looking as far away from him as possible.

“We can buy a first aid kit at the corner store and perhaps grab a bite to eat at Dex’s?” Obi Wan suggests. You nod and the two of you walk/limp to your destination.

On the sidewalk outside of Dex’s Diner, Obi Wan sits patiently, waiting for you to bring out food. You both had decided not to eat inside the restaurant and scare the customers with Obi looking so banged up. You’d carefully cleaned and stitched up his wound, and all the while he stared down at you, bewildered by your concentration and skill.

He’d come to terms with his feelings a long time ago, only now he’s scared you don’t feel the same way. You’d always treated him like a brother, as much as it irked him sometimes. Too many times you’d come very close to catching him gazing lovingly at you while you cut down mobsters and the like. It was becoming more difficult by the day to keep his heart from tumbling out of his lips, to keep the dam shut.

His chest clenches as the memory of your pained and frightened face in Sarek’s grasp resurfaces. It cleaved straight through his soul. At that moment, he gives himself a task: he’ll make sure that you never have to be that scared again, even if it kills him.

He is torn from his thoughts when the bell at the door of the diner chimes and you take a seat on the curb beside him, a hand offering him a Shawda club sandwich. He groans in happiness and you laugh, watching him dramatically savor the first bite. Peaches and purples swirl together in the sky as the sun begins to peek over the horizon. Its rays are cut into pieces by towering skyscrapers and buildings, the pieces hitting the sidewalk around you. The moment is peaceful but you have something to get off of your chest, you just don’t know how.

“Obi Wan-”

“I-”

You both startle. You gesture to him to speak and all at once the words he was going to say are absent from his tongue. An awkward pause fills the space between you.

“What I said at Kina’s...I wasn’t lying,” he says firmly. “I’ve never met anyone who comes close to you. I’m sorry if you don’t feel the same way but I need to tell you this before something happens to me again. You’re everything to me. You’re strong and capable and you deserve the world. I just hope you can settle for me.”

When you don’t move his heart sinks into his stomach. His hope tarnished, he begins to ramble. “If you don’t want to work with me anymore, I understand. I just hope we can-”

The defeat laced in his voice breaks you out of your shocked stupor and you whirl around, planting your palm on his mouth. He quiets, his eyes searching yours for an explanation. You press your forehead to his, giggling from relief and the last of your adrenaline. Your hand falls to cup his jaw, his beard soft under your fingers.

“Shut up and kiss me, you reckless dork.”

Obi’s face splits in a grin as he finally kisses you, pulling you closer at the nape of your neck and his other hand tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. Your other hand is splayed on his chest as you break for air and you initiate the next searing kiss, tugging him with both hands by the collar of his torn dress shirt. You hear his muffled chuckle at your unbridled enthusiasm.

You push him away to make sure it isn’t some kind of twisted dream, but you’re instead greeted by a rather attractive sight. Obi Wan is panting, his cheeks dark and one button undone on his dress shirt, revealing his collarbone and the top of his chest.

“I’m offended that you called me a ‘reckless dork’ when you just aggressively made out with me,” Obi Wan snarks, grinning.

“Oh shut it, you loved it.”

“I suppose it was alright…although it wouldn’t hurt to practice.”

#Obi Wan Kenobi x reader #fanfiction #star wars #Star Wars prequels #star wars the clone wars #Star Wars AU #fanfic #Obi Wan kenobi #ay it's Dex #userxkara #writing #obi wan #Obi Wan x reader

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forgottenyear · 3 years

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[tw: child abuse – this one tends a little more graphic than usual]

Because danger causes overstimulation of the reptilian and mammalian brains and also shuts down the prefrontal cortex, certain mental processes, such as learning, are often more difficult for traumatized individuals. In children, for example. impulsivity and reactivity can be heightened, [... and] the child can appear unmotivated. In abusive environments, lower levels of the brain are subject to constant stimulation by threats and/or reminders of past threat and therefore cannot support maturation of the prefrontal cortex.

From: “Transforming the Living Legacy of Trauma: A Workbook for Survivors and Therapists” by Janina Fisher, PhD

On the one hand, I loathe my impulsivity. On the other hand, people sometimes find it disturbing how far I will think a situation through before and while acting.

On the one hand, I loathe my impulsivity. On the other hand, the other member is usually several steps ahead of me, so I appear to have thought a situation through thoroughly before acting.

The other member of the current system is, as far as I can tell, the only member of the previous system that did not fuse into becoming me.

We have memories of our mother frequently yelling at us, “think before you act.”

I am not sure how or when we suddenly became responsible for others, particularly our older brother. I did not learn until relatively recently, having pieced it together from what our mother says and our memories of excuses for punishments.

This has all the red flags of us overshooting the target. Again.

I am considered a rational and sensible person who is not given to impulsivity. Yet I still feel I am not doing enough to keep my impulsivity under control.

I was shocked and confused when I was told that I was considered the anchor of an office. I just assumed everyone tolerated my impulsivity only because I was capable at my job. It shook my reality to learn that people admired in me a trait that I had always admired in them and never recognized in myself.

We hyper-developed traits because we feel we are never good enough.

I am finding that the other member of our system more closely resembles the ideals that we were raised to believe were inherent to all adults.

I still feel I am childish and impulsive and selfish. I still feel I will never be good enough to deserve inclusion among adults. I still feel I am not adult enough to be equal to adults whose parents are my age or younger.

I think I am a barrier to final fusion because do not want to contaminate the other member. I tend to think that they are opposed to fusion, that they can only tolerate my presence, like everyone else – but I am sure that is not the case, at least while I write this I am sure.

Our system resembles our childhood, but it is very likely only my perception that makes it so. My perceptions are distorted by the models I carry from childhood.

In the same chapter from which I quote above, Fisher also writes about how most memory of trauma is not in a narrative form but is stored in more primitive parts of the brain. That multiple memories can be stored as a mish mash of elements that defy the form of narrative.

The other member is ancient, relative to me.

When I attempt to describe the conditions of childhood, I mostly draw from the clues that are not tied to the immediate trauma. I describe the stick that hung in the kitchen, because I can picture it hanging in its place. I cannot picture it being used. I can remember being sent to my room after it was used. I can remember being in my room after it was used and anticipating the second round that would follow soon after. I can remember the yelling that went on for a long time. I can remember the ongoing anger that would follow for days or weeks or months. Sometimes even years. In a few cases, it has never ended.

I tend to dismiss the abuse because I have few immediate memories. I also tend to accept the abuse did happen because there is too much evidence to be ignored. The stick was clearly being used frequently for some purpose. It did not hang out of convenient reach, and it did not collect dust like the orange-anodized jello molds or the decorative trivets that also hung in the kitchen did. And when the smaller, first stick went missing, it was replaced with a larger one.

And there is the lingering evidence. That there is an extant system. That my partner has (not recently) got physically abusive, and I still do not like to call it abuse because they did not beat me with a two-by-four.

There is lingering evidence in that I still “know” that if I turn wrong while someone is striking me, then that is my fault and so I deserve the greater damage than that someone intended. That if they leave a more visible mark, then I deserve that and more punishment and then I will be further punished if I do not tell the “truth” that I caused the mark. [The subject of this paragraph has been buried in subconsciousness for a while.]

That was maybe more than necessary to say that although I cannot remember the specific cause for the other member of our system, it was clearly trauma (and it occurs to me that this lack of memory is sort of the point of DID, so I wrote an awful lot to say nothing).

While the cause may have been trauma, the other member became the functional ideals. Angela was clearly the moral ideals. And the boy was always what the abusers told him he was.

I suspect the ideals matured with age. They probably became less mystical and magical and grew into more realistic, even if still never attainable, ideals.

But I still feel that I fall far too short of the ideals. I still feel I am too impulsive and selfish. I am too bad. I still feel I must do better.

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reve-de-dragon · 4 years

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Results of the form

results under the cut

The donjon and dragon is, obviously, not surprising. I’m on the same page here, it counts as a dragon, and is honestly the closest to basic pop culture european dragon i can find.

Donjon and dragon wyvern gets some not a dragon answers. From what i gather from looking through the answers, I assume it has to do with the sapience of the wyvern, as aside from a single person, i haven’t seen the “four legs two wings is a dragon” type of answer.

The tarasque surprised me a bit more! I see them as a dragon, but physical traits of that type (weird chimera) usually doesn’t matters to me if they are quite reptilian, which works here, in most pictures. I think for most dragons however, it is a too weird creature for them to comprehend them as a dragon. There might also be the problem of the dnd tarasque, who is treated as its own thing in the game, which might have influenced some.

Smaug is overall seen as a dragon. The picture was the movie smaug, so the one not a dragon comes from the “four leg 2 wings is a dragon” answer (btw, not trying to say that is wrong, for this form!).

not much to say here.

Had to go back to see what kind of answer said that pernese dragons were not dragon for their own mind, and from what i see of the rest of their answer, I suspect that its the book’s twist on these dragons that influenced the answer. I wondered if i would have more not a dragon because of this specificity, but it seem it overall is seen as a dragon.

Dutch angels are pretty divided! They are not dragons in my eyes, as they are too mammalian to register as a dragon, which i believe is the case for most people here, from talking with people who answered.

Wyrms register as dragons for me. The non dragon part seems to be on the lack of wings (usually also putting the draque as not a dragon) and the lack of limbs. Some may also have thought about sapience, although i can’t check that, and haven’t encountered that one while talking with some who took the form.

Amusingly, the sea serpent almost mirrors the wyrm. I do not really understand that one, as it tends to be registered as the same thing for me (big long beast who can grow to tremendous sizes). If the wyrm is put as not a dragon, I assume it’s the lack of wings/limb, but some do put wyrms and not sea serpent, as seen here! This appear to be caused by wyrms and sea serpents as different kind of beasts, as a sort of cousin specie.

:’( Poor chimken. My human logic tells me dragon, because they are referred as such in some myths. As a dragon however, i’m not sure. Size plays a lot into it for me, but the dangerosity of the beast does too. I think I wouldn’t consider it a dragon as the pop culture cockatrice that is small, but as soon as it is human sized or more, i’d have a doubt and consider it something on the same level as me.

Too mammalian for me, but technically a dragon I guess ahah. It depends on who you ask, in myths. I tend to see it as another kind of creature both as a dragon and human, though.

Same, to a further extent.

That one is very strange! Not because of the amount of not dragon, that i expected, but because I saw quite a few people who did agree that it was a dragon say that a sea serpent wasn’t one, which boggles my mind! I see it as a simple animal myself, and haven’t been able to understand that sea serpent is not but nessie is situation, so if you answered that, would love to know why!

Was simply to check if reptilian body and sapience was enough for some. Two people did answer yes, but for the most part, it’s a no.

Got a friend who is a predacon were, so I was curious if being biological or mechanical would influence some. Amusingly enough, from that predacon, I learnt that they, themselves, didn’t consider all predacons dragons, due to differences in behaviors. The exemple here was predaking, so a pretty normal dragon aside from the mechanical thing. I wanted to add the bipedal cybertronian form too, but was afraid my first question may be lost like that. One person did say they were not dragons to them, so i wonder if it’s due to lore or nonbiological nature.

The worms from dunes have technically very draconic behaviors and lore, and are inspired from european dragons. One person did agree that they were sort of alien dragons, apparently, but for the most part, i assume the physical form says not dragon. On my side, i am unsure! I think not, because they are not creatures i can really interact with, i assume, so I’d mostly see them as bigger than average animals.

Wondered where humanoid body type started to be seen as nondraconic. Depending on the anthro dragon, I myself am on a “maybe”. Behavior and dangerosity would probably matter a lot to me here.

And that’s where I myself draw the line! Flat faces disturb me, and in that case, size and general appearance convey a “not a dragon” feel for me.

The lack of wings is what makes them not a dragon, for the one who answered that, as it seems. Perhaps some sapience too?

This one is an animal for me, whereas drakes are dragons. Amusingly enough, some said drakes were not dragons, but those were! I assume it’s the flight/glide.

Dragon brains says That’s A Horse, whereas human logic says it’s closest to a dragon. Pretty easy to understand here, simply the appearance.

Overall, dragon. Logical. However, two person said not a dragon! The first did say Cortos (little wyvern type creatures) were, from the same game, and the other said zinogre (a wolf/dragon that wield thunder) and dah’ren morhan (a gigantic desert leviathan) did say those were dragons! So it’s not the game. I really don’t get that one, and would love thoughts on it.

Was curious if the mammalian appearance would matter. Zinogre is on the line for me.

They look like wyverns, but are very small and weak. They don’t register as dragons for me, but as animals. Seems they do for most though, although i can’t say if all understood their size due to the picture.

This one is similar to the sand worm for me. Although technically draconic, being similar to a leviathan, he just doesn’t register as one, although there’s the power and size to usually back it up for me.

Was curious to what extent dragon like horrors would be understood as dragons. I see that one as a dragon, but that may be due to myself seeing my draconity as somewhat lovecraftian. I relate a lot to cthulhu on a conceptual level.

I mean. I’m surprised there’s not a dragon human hybrid kind of thing here ngl. What’s the difference? Plus tbh, he does seem more draconic than the pic i used for the human dragon hybrid in my opinion. Probably the pose does it for me. Really like this painting.

Expected it, but hey! Fun fact! The red dragon of the apocalypse above, and Satan/the devil are the same entity! Bamboozled again. I have to admit, although the depiction above makes me think dragon, due to the imagery associated with satan, i mostly see him as a human looking dude or goaty fellow. I’m pretty sure he is called a dragon in christian lore.

Not threatening enough for me, but yeah that’s probably what’s going on here, he’s simply not very threatening. Deal breaker for some, but dragon for most.

Tried to see if more strange looking “dragons” got the same approval as charizard, since they even had the typing. Seems like theropods body type isn’t commonly seen as draconic, as I furthered that question with a smaller group with some other theropod looking draconic creatures! Have to admit, unsure if it’s the human logic that applies here, and makes me go : that’s a real animal, or if it’s a dragon thing.

Same but more theropod.

Technically, he can be called one, but yeah he is very mammalian, which is most of those no votes. I’d say I would probably consider him on the same level as me. Something about the tatzelwurm makes me think of a sapient beast, which may play into it. Everything seems more dangerous and more “at my level” if they are intelligent. They are small, and not very powerful, but for some reason it still doesn’t strike me as wrong here.

Wanted to see both if something very bird like, and very non threatening looking was understood as a dragon. Seems like for the most part, it works. I’d honestly probably just see that one as a weird fire bird. For the most part, most dragonvale dragons don’t register as such for me, in a similar way to pokemons.

Putting those two back to back because it’s very funny. Expected both to be dragons, or both not, and turns out there’s also a fair share to one is, but the other no. I can understand toruk yes, ikran no, as toruk is much more imposing, but the other way around i don’t quite see, although a few people did say so. If you have theories, would love to hear.

Added the thanator last minute as a sort of “pandoran drake”. Seems like most people just see it as an alien. Flight plays a strong part on recognizing something as draconic for most, so if you throw away the obvious reptilian/draconic features, isn’t so easy. Plus, I won’t lie, it acts pretty non draconic, but hey was worth trying. Expected it.

Similar thought, although more reptilian. although the thanator doesn’t register as same as me, xenomorphs do. Probably the dangerosity/intelligence here too.

It’s very, very weird, but dragon shaped. I’d see it as a dragon. A lot don’t. Put it for the same reason as the tarasque, but with wings.

I won’t lie it’s a bird i expected that, but it’s golden? It eats metals? Maybe some feathered dragons could relate. Where does bird dragon stops, and mythical bird begins? Amusing to go back to the peteu or the serre with this thought in mind.

If quetzacoatl gets to be a dragon, why not them. I see them as dragons like wyrms. Seems like a fair share don’t! Amusingly, I assume like the sea serpent, it doesn’t mirror wyrms, although the two are very close.

Yeah fair. Honestly though, it’s strange how so many weird appearance don’t get a pass, but that one does. I assume it’s because they fly, or are very powerful? Since other very reptilian looking chimeras or draconic beasts don’t make the cut. Or pop culture i guess. I see them as beasts like me, but actually not as dragons. I see them as “eastern dragons” which for me is a dinstinctly different creature from european dragons on all level, and probably shouldn’t share the dragon name, which is why i try my best to find another term to use, like long or ryu. I do however make them fall in the category of beasts that are “same as me”, although i usually see them as a bit higher, closer to deity like, in folklores.

Was curious since “he doesn’t act like a dragon anymore” is something I had heard a few times from dragons. From the people who answered, seems there isn’t much here. I personally do feel weird about how toothless act in the third movie, the whole thing is a bit off. Probably because, like another dragonkin said, they are treated as exotic pets or human adjacent.

Gidorah is pretty dragon like, not much here, it was mostly to introduce the following. We did get a few no, though! I assume it’s because it’s an alien, or something of the sort? Theories appreciated once again.

Godzilla is honestly very dragon like. Massive, reptilian, breath weapon. He even protects things sometimes. But seems like for most, he isn’t one. Curious as to why so. I assume the theropod look must have struck again, as well as pop culture making you automatically go : no that’s a kaiju, not a dragon.

Fair. With the zinogre i wanted to see how far i could push it.

To the 2 people who answered yes : Wrong. I am judging you.

EDIT : forgot to say : Feel free to give any thoughts! I’d love to start a discussion

#dragonkin #weird stats for a weird dragon #cthulhu is my dad leave me alone #i had to include him

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bonebreakjack · 4 years

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What Would I Be Without You?

Tenko and Hana take a leap of faith changing their lives for better or for worse. Along the way they uncover many secrets hidden away, try to find their way in life, and deal with their new eccentric roommates and their even more eccentric friends.

But at least their doing it together.

(An AU of what would have happened if AFO hadn't interfered with the Shimura family's lives. (Cause I refuse to believe he had no part in that horror). This is my take of what could have happened via what little we saw of the family.)

Chapter 2: What A Day...And It’s Not Even Over yet

If this was going to be a new normal, Tenko would rather take his chances and hide from society back inside the apartment becoming a shut in. It’s as if the universe was like ‘Fuck You’ to him and his sister the moment they stepped out. First they missed the first two busses. Not even just one, but both of them, to get to the station. So they both had to run all the way to the station so they could make the train. Then there was a villain attack along the way and the crowd watching the Hero and Villain go at it. (Is that the new upcoming hero Mirko? She’s moving around like a frenzied rabbit keeping the guy disoriented.) Tenko would have been more happy to see the fight if we weren't worried about getting to school on time. ( Which really was more about keeping as much stress off his sister as possible she’s got enough on her plate besides worrying about him.) Navigating the crowd was a nightmare and a half, no one wanted to move, half of them were being rude assholes and the other half kept hesitating cause they didn’t want to look away from the fight. Hana nearly tasted dirt more than a couple times and Tenko sure as hell did taste the dirt with being shoved around. They finally make it to the station only for the ticket machine to break and them missing the train having to wait nearly an hour for another one. Thus making them late.

Hana tried to lighten the atmosphere by suggesting they go buy snacks while they waited, only for Tenko to tell her he was broke cause he spent the last of his money on house items they needed, and she herself had forgotten her wallet. Meaning they don’t even have money for the train to begin with. Wonderful. They did have a bit of luck in Hana digging through her bag and finding enough change to get them on the train, but she would probably have to ask one of their roommates to get her her wallet when they wake up. She paid for the tickets and they sat in silence on their phones. Tenko saw that his phone battery was in the red and went to get his charger …..that he didn’t bring . So he just wasted what little he had on mobile games. He threw the damn thing in his bag and scowled for the next hour, as the rage bubbled up inside him and he stewed like a pressure cooker. The train comes and one again he's surrounded by people, who were far too close and pushy as they packed into the train like sardines. He could feel his very thin rope of patience fraying quickly. He hated being touched, there were too many people, and today was NOT working in their favor, he has to go back to school in the middle of the year, they moved all the way into the city in a stranger's house he had never met, and its too much for the first fucking day- Hana reached out and grabbed his hand, squeezing lightly and he throttled the urge to scratch at his face and neck. His sister hated it and it made her distressed. He stewed in stillness instead, thinking positive. At least they were together. Not.

Tenko was seriously contemplating homicide right now. He was jam packed alone on the train to the new school he had to go to, his sister got dropped off at her Highschool two stops before so he had to suffer alone now. This was pure crap and what's worse because of his height made him easy to push and shove around, and God help him Why is everyone TOUCHING HIM?

This was the start of what Tenko was sure to be a Hellish day.

Fuck.

The hiss of the doors alerted him to freedom and he clawed his way out nearly knocking over an elementary school girl. From what he could see she apparently had a similar plan but was using the wall to avoid death by stampede. Apologizing under his breath, Tenko pulled her up and then shoved her through the door before following. He yelled out another apology as he ran, noticing the time.

A plain faced boy passed him wearing the same uniform, his face more panicked as he ran to get to school. HE was a bit weird out by the boys muttering of wanting to avoid his mother's fly swats.

More and more students passed by him as he slowed down wearing the same uniform as him. He couldn't help but stare at how much more unique looking everyone was in comparison to the private school he went to. A sense of more freedom filled the air and the students seemed more lively. They seemed pretty happy and content rubbing their good mood to everyone today.

Maybe today won’t be as bad as he thought-

He was shoved to the side very roughly by a much taller bastard of a kid with dark red brown hair with needle like appearance and gold eyes. He smirked condescendingly down at Tenko who glared back up at him. He began to walk away but Tenko wasn't about to let him. Nope that was the last fucking straw that burnt up the rest of his self restraint. He couldn’t help his lips twitching, wanting to stretch into a smile as a thought passed through his head. Hello, Misplaced Aggression.

"Hey bastard what was that for?" Tenko was snarling at the now surprised boy, assholes like this think they're so damn mighty until someone barks back. But they messed with him on the wrong day.

"You were in my way shortly, learn to make room for your betters!" The Tall Bastard, as Tenko now deemed him, had gathered himself after he realized Tenko wasn't backing down. His two friends flanking him to try and further intimidate him.

Tenko just scoffed and wondered when they started cloning cliches. Different schools have the same bullies, how predictable. The ones back home were scarier anyway, they actually knew who his dad was.

"Oh I'm sorry your majesty, I didn't realize you have a Caution: Wide Load sign on you."

The silence was too beautiful, he should have recorded it, or took out his phone to take a picture (he was still mad at leaving his charger at home). The Tall Bastard’s face was turning a funny shade of red from humiliation and anger. His friends looked wary and looked at their leader before backing away slowly. “You looking down on me you puny bastard!” Tall Bastard picked Tenko up by the scruff of his collar and Tenko could almost hear a choir cause it was as if his prayers were answered and someone decided to send him a punching bag.

If that’s the case then… A yelp that sounded like a came from the mouth of a dog came out of the Tall Bastards mouth and he dropped Tenko to cover and hold his injured crotch from where Tenko kicked him. One doesn’t play fair with those who won’t give the same treatment. As soon as he was on the ground Tenko’s leg shot out to kick Tall Bastard on the back of the head making him hit the ground. He picked up his backpack where it had fallen and went to walk away. “Hey asshole I wasn’t done with you-!” “Wait Soga! You can’t get in trouble again. You could get expelled this time.”One of the friends spoke up, he had a reptilian appearance and on the short side. He grabbed his friend Soga’s arm to keep him from attacking Tenko. “Let's Just leave besides I get the feeling this kid isn’t all there if yanno what I mean.” Tenko felt a scowl pull at his lips at the remark which caused the reptilian human to hide behind Tall Bastards-Soga’s- body. The two boys stared at each other down before Soga tsked and spat on the ground. “Fine whatever, he’s not fucking worth it anyway.”They walked to the school entrance, though Tenko noticed with slight satisfaction that Soga was limping as he did. It didn’t help the bitterness that burned in his lungs as the words ‘Not worth it’ , ran in his head. The small fight didn’t help his bad mood and he grumbled all the way to the Staff office as how unsatisfied he felt.

He got scolded for being late on his first day of transferring by a bulbous looking teacher. He was just in time for the 2nd period to begin but they weren’t lenient on tardies. And no, you can’t use a villain attack as an excuse. Asshole. Tenko looked sourly down at his schedule and the added papers on top of it. Apparently his sister had asked the staff to give him a list of clubs he could join this late in the year. He and Hana transferred to their new schools in the middle of fall, a really weird time but they didn’t have much of a choice. Ugh he didn’t even do clubs back home, why would she think he would now? He trudged all the way to homeroom and was met with the Class representative, a lanky boy with a split mouth and slim face. When he spoke his voice contained a slight hiss and small bumps of flesh along with extra needle-like rows of teeth shows. A snake-like quirk it seems. The boy was polite and said u anything to ask him. The only seat available was the one in the cornerback near the classroom closet. Another good thing that happened today seems, best place to pretend you're doing work and take a nap. He had a few minutes before 2nd period officially started which was physical education and all the boys were changing. Since he hadn’t gotten his uniform for that yet he was allowed to sit out or stay in the classroom. Obviously he decided to stay and the class representative went to go change himself while Tenko worked on setting up his desk to take a nap on. At the corner of his eye he spotted a strange looking teenager with bandages all over his arms and neck. His hair was black in a way that clearly looked dyed, and his eyes were almost a luminous blue. Something about him kept nagging at Tenko’s brain. He decided to just go back to minding his business and didn’t even know why some random kid caught his attention anyway. The moment every one left he laid his head on his desk and knocked solidly out. ----- Tenko and Hana were walking home when a man with white hair stood in front of them, he smiled kindly at them and for some reason Tenko was having a hard time putting a face to this stranger or even a name. Is he new around here? Did he just move in? Tenko didn’t hear the others talking about anyone new in the neighborhood. The man was talking to them about something but Tenko can’t remember what he was saying. The words just sounded like noise. He reached out to him with a hand but Hana put herself in front of Tenko and started screaming about a pervert and calling for help. Whatever ease Tenko had felt disappeared when she did and followed her lead bringing the attention of whatever adults in the area to them. Hearing a familiar dog-like growl, Tenko felt relief as he saw Mikkuns mother stomp up to them and the man backing up as she interrogated him on what he was doing with them. Getting vague answers she tells him she has never seen him around here before, putting her body right in front of them blocking their view of the man. The words became a blur again and whatever he said seemed to pacify her but then Mikkuns mom was leading them home. She was talking to herself, french accent thick with anger and suspicion as she was going to tell the other neighborhood parents about this. His own mom opened the door demurely as if waiting to receive bad news and apologize. It hurts Tenko to know she was already suspecting that he got in trouble for something. To her surprise and fear Mikkun’s mom was talking about how a strange man had begun talking with her children but Mikkun did not recall anyone moving in recently. She was going to ask the other mothers but warned his mom Nao to keep an eye out. They ended up receiving praise from the French woman for their quick thinking and instincts before getting head pats from her paws. She bidded them a good day before marching off intending to go warn the others parents. Mikkuns mom was pretty cool. Both kids were brought into a hug by their mom who was so happy they were okay before ushering them to the living room and rushed to go talk to grandma and grandpa. Tenko wondered why he can’t seem to recall this mans face-

“Shimura-san, Shimura-san…”Somebody was shaking him, ripping him from his memory. Tenko blearily looked up to see the class president looking down at him in concern. Shooting up from his desk thinking he slept while class came back, but was happy to see it was just the class President there. Seeing his gym uniform showed he had come from where the class actually was to find him. “Sorry about that Shimura-san, a man had come to school saying he bought something from home that you forgot..” A shadow image of a taller man with slicked back hair and cold eyes flashed in his mind making him shudder. A wave of fear ran through him and all he could think was pain. The President looked concerned at Tenko reaching his hands out as if to prevent him from falling over but Tenko stepped out of his reach.

“It’s fine, I wasn’t doing anything anyway. Who did you say came by?”He let out a shuddering breath and gathered himself in case it was who he thought it was. The President's tongue slipped out as if tasting the air before letting out a sign. “A Shirakumo Oboro? Do you wish for me to tell him you're busy? I will if you want.” That was surprising, most people wouldn’t lie to an adult so blatantly like that and not for someone else. It made Tenko feel a bit awkward but also a little happy. “No it’s fine I know who that is. Thank you….” Tenko trailed off. A flush of heat hit his cheeks once he realized he has no idea what the president’s name is. It got even worse one the other taller boy realized and laughed softly. The president led him out of the class to the front entrance. “Uroko Sogen. Now let’s hurry, there isn’t much time before the rest of the class comes back.” Making it to the door he tried not to look too surprised to see one of Hana and his new roommates, or really he should be calling them the actual tenants, here at his school. The man was on the taller side with tan skin and a scar on his head, his hair flowed around white and fluffy like a cloud even though it was pulled back into a ponytail. Blue eyes caught Tenko’s form and waved at him like an enthusiastic idiot.

Which had the opposite effect it intended, making Tenko want to do an 180 and go back to class. “Lil Shimura-chan!” Actually never mind he’s just going to go back to class. “NO WAIT, I GOT YOUR CHARGER!”The older man screeched, panicked seeing Tenko actually maneuver to go back inside. Tenko looked confused and a little suspicious that the man came all the way here just to deliver his charger. “Hana texted me saying she forgot some things at the apartment, and that you also forgot this. I wasn’t working so-” He went to one of the multitude of pockets he had and pulled it out letting it fall gently into a confused Tenko’s waiting hands. “The first day can be rough, and from what I heard from Hana it was far from ideal for the both of ya. It ain’t much but I can take you two somehwere to eat after she’s done training? I know a place with great Sushi.” It was a bit silent after that but Tenko felt his lips twitching into a small smile. Shirakumo didn’t have to do that, he could have just dropped off his sister's stuff and be done. It felt nice to be considered. “I think I would like that.” The smile he got from Shirakumo was downright blinding, seriously did he employ the sun into his teeth why was it so bright?!

“Alright! I’ll leave you to it then. Have a good day Lil Shimura-san!” The older man waved at them before taking off on a cloud like a dragon ball parody character. Huh so that what his quirk was, he wonder how he implements that into his hero work- “Shimura-san class is about to start.” Tenko’s thoughts were interrupted before nodding at the boy as they went back in. He couldn’t help but squeeze the charger in his pocket, happy that some good things came out of today at the very least. They got into class and all the boys had finished changing back into their regular uniforms. His eyes caught the blued eyed black haired kid again and was shocked to find he had piercings in his ears, nose, and lip. He couldn’t believe the school even allowed that. The other kid looked up before giving him a wink flustering Tenko.

Distracted he didn’t see the small girl trying to get into class and tripped right over her knocking them both over.

Dammit he jinxed himself. Tenko quickly got up and pulled her up to her feet. She was so small for a second he could have mistaken her for a younger elementary student. Her hair was a pinkish red and she reminded him of cherub from those paintings but without the wings. “Ah I’m sorry-!” They both started and it became a babbled mess that the president broke up since they were in front of the door. The girl sat in the front seat looking down at her now dirty uniform, and Tenko winced before deciding to pay her back later for that.

The class filled in and sat around talking to each other. He tried to ignore the occasional glances his way from his new classmates and especially that bastard with the glowy eyes. A heavy knocking and the class stood up as this ridiculous amazon of a woman walked into the door. She was clearly built under her suit and skirt and looked more like she would fit in a fighting ring than she would as a teacher. Her hair long purple pink, and eyes that looked shiny and red. She looked even bigger as they sat down. “Helloooo class!”And Loud, she was very loud, it grated on Tenko’s ears a bit “Now I’m sure you all were gossiping about it during gym, but I’m a say it again anyway. We have a new classmate with us.” She looked at Tenko and invited him up and damn he hated this. He trudged along slowly to the front as the teacher clapped her hands. “Let’s make this quick, we have free time and I’m sure your classmates are excited to get to know you. Why don’t you tell everyone your name, what you like, and your quirk as an ice breaker?”

Her voice became softer as she handed him the chalk. His classmates leaned in excited to gossip or rip into him the moment he was done and Tenko felt like he was in the spotlight. He wanted to puke. It would have been fine if she didn’t mention the damn quirk thing. Tenko was hoping to avoid that a little longer. So much for good things happening, right back where he started. A familiar rage boiled inside him, or it could be the stomach acid from his anxiety. His hand shook a bit as he wrote his name down slowly trying to buy himself some time. He looked at the board hoping for some answers but got now. Resigned, he put it down and turned to his excited classmates. Sogen, Dye job with blue eyes and the small cherub girl were the only ones who looked subdued.

“I’m Shimura Tenko, I like video games and syrup covered mochi,” He took a breath and decided to rip it off like a bandaid. They would find out sooner or later anyways.

“Quirkless.”

#Bnha au #bnha writing #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #my hero academy #bnha #Quirkless Tenko #Tenko shimura #shimura tenko #shimura hana #hana shimura #tomura shigaraki #shigaraki tomura #Shirakumo oboro #bonebreakjack #bonebreakjackwrite

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stuffy-attic · 5 years

Text

Tipsy [Reader x LOV Spinner] Part 2/2

Here’s the link for part one!

Somehow you ended up home and okay. And somehow the memory of the previous day, despite the alcohol’s best attempt, was very much remembered in that afternoon when you finally dragged yourself out of bed. Not an easy feat considering how much you just wanted to disappear. Despite the rumblings of a hungry stomach and the long gap of time since your last meal, you brushed past your kitchen without a second thought. The diner just down the street sounded a lot better than making a pile of dirty dishes that future you would be too bummed out to wash.

This day is going to fucking suck.

Maybe I should just run away, you considered as you poked at your half-eaten sandwich. Could go to America, take up a new identity, and never interact with people ever again. Maybe just live alone in the woods – become the local big foot. It shouldn’t sound appealing, but it did.

“Surprised I haven’t heard from the crew yet…” you mumbled as you fished for your phone; the lingering embarrassment had caused you to forget to even check it when you first got up. “Should be about time to hear something- ah?” Opening the phone, unfortunately, lead to no answers as the screen didn’t light up. You pressed a few buttons but there was still no response. Right didn’t charge it.

Originally the plan was to check messages and likely head over to the bar, even if there wasn’t anything, but that went out the window. Shigaraki was just going to have to wait right now. You needed a working phone and its charging cord first.

You boxed up the remnants of your food, paid and tipped the (delightfully) quiet waitress, and headed out. The walk to your apartment wasn’t long. But the scene you found when you arrived? That was confusing.

“She’s not opening the goddamn door! Yeah. I was knocking for five minutes, of course she would’ve heard! Well she hasn’t been answering that either, right?” Spinner pulled one hand roughly through his untied hair before banging on the door once more. “I am!” he yelled into the phone.

Ohhhh shit. You didn’t know which was more distressing: the fact that you were apparently late to some league business or the fact that the last person you wanted to see was the one at your door. Should? No… but maybe… You swayed at the top of the stairs, trying to decide if you should run off or not while you had the chance.

“Hey!” A middle-aged man emerged from the apartment next door. “Fuck face. What do you think you’re doing?” Spinner stopped his banging but didn’t get a chance to rebuttal. “Fucking dumbass lizard. All you mutants this fucking dumb or something?”

Oh not this guy. Mind made up. “Hey yourself!” You hopped up the last of the stairs. “Don’t fucking talk to him like that.”

Spinner wheeled around and shut his phone with a snap. Whoever was on the other end must’ve been happy about that. You stood beside your reptilian coworker. It wasn’t the first time you’d had beef with this jerk and you sure as hell weren’t about to let him treat Spinner like trash.

“What’re you saying, dumb bitch?”

His words didn’t deter you in the least. “Look here ass fuck, talk shit about him again – no, if you so much as look funny at another mutant I’ll show up at your ex-wife’s apartment with aaallllll the receipts I got on you holding out on your income amount during the divorce proceedings and the child support payments you somehow keep skirting around. I will personally make sure that the court of law shoves a gavel up your fucking ass. Yeah? Get it?”

The man’s mouth flapped a few times but he had nothing of value to say and apparently couldn’t form a cohesive thought to save his life. Face fuming and red and he stomped back into his apartment and slammed the door.

“Will that guy ever learn to not be such an ass?” you asked as you fished out your keys. “I’m just gonna go ahead and tell his wife anyway. He’s had it coming for a long time.” Don’t look at him. Maybe he’ll leave. Maybe he doesn’t even remember! Yeah!

Click. The door unlocked but you didn’t even make it into the threshold before a strong scaly arm was barring the way. You actually walked straight into, nearly dropping your to-go box. “Hey!”

“Hey? Hey?” Spinner’s voice wasn’t much more than a growl. “That’s all you got to say?”

Freezing at his tone, you slowly looked up and locked eyes. Oh he’s angry. Fuck. “Yeah?”

His scaly jaw tensed and his dark eyes narrowed. “You didn’t go back to the bar.”

That’s what this is about? What the fuck does that matter? Luckily logical brain was able to be the one in charge today. You took a slow breath to temper yourself for what was going to be a tight situation. “No. I wasn’t… in the mood.”

“I told you to go back there for a reason.”

“I didn’t-”

“You could have gotten injured or attacked.”

“I’m hardly helpless!”

Spinner paused before he huffed. The air tickled your face but you didn’t flinch or look away. “Are you telling me that if something had happened and you had been attacked that you were in the right mind to respond to it?”

“… no.”

“I told you to go back. I…” Spinner looked away, “I didn’t want to walk you home, but I didn’t want you to go on your own either. You going home like that then not showing up earlier and not answering the door or your phone… I – we thought something had happened to you!” His eyes bored into yours once more.

You studied his face. Whose idea was it to come here? Did someone else suggest it first? “How did you know where I live?”

“Toga told me.”

“Because you asked…?”

Spinner ignored the question. “Learn to turn your phone on.”

“Right.” You didn’t even bother to mention that it was currently dead. You bit your lip. Should I? I can’t leave it to fester I guess… “Yesterday…”

Both of you were silent.

Please meet me halfway on this. “When I said what I said – about the… me like you thing, I was being serious…” You gripped the box tightly as you hugged yourself with one arm. Eye contact was difficult as fuck but it could serve an important role in signifying to Spinner that you were being truthful. “It’s wasn’t the alcohol or Dabi.”

“Yeah about that.” He finally dropped his arm and sighed. “I… they told me.”

Your eyebrows shot up. “Who did?”

“Everyone. Earlier. They were all excited asking if we had… they thought we had left together and you confessed and we…” He shifted. “I guess,” the leather creaked as Spinner shrugged, “maybe it wasn’t you trying to play me.”

“So you don’t think it’s some cruel prank now?” The question was a little bitter (yesterday had really sucked after all) but there was a little bit of hope renewed.

“No. I should’ve listened-”

“No, Spinner. Look…” You sighed and rocked on your feet. “I know people have treated you like shit before just because of how you look – which is dumb cuz you’re really cool, so I shouldn’t have expected you to just be immediately receptive to it. I could’ve gone about the entire thing a better way I guess.

“I definitely shouldn’t have let Dabi instigate anything… I’m sorry.”

It took a minute for you to realize that the noise coming from him was a chuckle. “You’re sorry? I should be the only one that’s sorry.”

“You don’t-”

“I’m sorry for yelling at you and being… rude,” Spinner said. “Even if I was upset it wasn’t okay of me to just leave you there like that either.”

“Spinner-”

“Shuichi.” The look on your face must’ve been especially dumb because he laughed. “My name. It’s Iguchi Shuichi.”

You nodded. “Right. Well, Shuichi, thanks for coming to check on me. Sorry I didn’t listen yesterday or show up this morning – or really give any indication that I wasn’t dead.” Maybe we can just roll right over this now. Pretending it never happened would be best. Although Dabi probably won’t let the damn thing go. Or maybe he’s already bored of it…

It was difficult to get a damn read on that stapled asshole. About as difficult as it was to get a read on this reptilian asshole…

You could see Spinner’s jaw working and his eyes shifting. It was a quick shift considering how friendly he was being just a moment ago. “You probably wanna forget about the whole thing, huh? That’s fine by me.” You shrugged, feigning indifference even though your chest burned. You stepped past Spinner and into your apartment, fully prepared to make amends and shut the door (literally and metaphorically).

However you froze at Spinner’s words. “What? No.” You looked over your shoulder to see him shaking his head with a frown. “It’s a bit…” His coloring looked off. He rubbed his neck. Oh he’s blushing? That’s cute!

You swooned internally but let him finish the thought. Short of a volcano spontaneously erupting beneath your feet, nothing was going to make you shatter this tense moment. No way were you going to crack the glass first and give him an out. You’d squeeze the words out of him at any cost.

Spinner fumbled a few more times before he finally found his footing. “I like you too.”

There’s no way this is real. What the hell kind of dream is this? Maybe I really did die on the walk home. “You do?”

His gaze on the floor and head hanging low, Spinner confirmed his feelings. “Yeah, I do.” His body language was throwing you off though: closed off and stiff – sad even.

You couldn’t help but frown. “You don’t seem very happy about it.”

“Well I mean it’s… me.”

“Did my asshole of a neighbor get to you? Because I’ll happily drag him out by his ear and beat the shit out of him for you.”

Spinner chuckled but it was hollow. “No, it’s just that I know what I am. I know what I look like and how-” He jumped. “What’re you doing?”

“Your hair is so soft!” you admired as you ran your hand through it once more.

He cringed but didn’t move away. “You’re being ridiculous. What are you doing?”

This time you let your thumb brush along his cheek; he flinched. You pulled away slowly. “I like you. As in all of you. Whether you think your skin is gross and scaly or that you’re ugly or less than because you’re a mutant – none of that is what I think. So don’t debase yourself or put yourself down or think less of yourself.”

Spinner wasn’t hanging his head anymore, but he looked stiff. “Sorry I’ve, uh- no one’s ever… this is all new to me.”

You tossed your leftovers onto the nearby couch. “I’m sorry no one’s told you that before. I have to ask though: does the touching really make you uncomfortable? Because I can stop doing it if it is.”

“God no, I don’t want you to stop...” Spinner looked at you wide eyed before realizing that you weren’t going to freak out at him for his confession. “I just feel like if you touch me, you’ll realize your mistake. You’ll be grossed out by me.”

“Of course not,” you said as you grabbed one of his hands. The texture of his skin wasn’t much like scales, textured leather might be a better comparison. He was cool and remarkably smooth to the touch. “You’ve probably overheard how picky I am about clothing and food texture, right? I think there was an incident with some pasta a couple of weeks ago.”

“Yeah, I remember.”

“So clearly if I didn’t like the feel of your skin you’d know really fast. And I haven’t stopped touching you yet, right?” You punctuated you point by squeezing his hand.

“You could have anyone-”

You laughed. “I’m very flattered that you think that; but I think you’ll find that have very discerning taste and a stubborn disposition. I like you. I want to have you. And that’s the end of it. Bask in it?”

His mouth hung open for a moment. “Bask in it?” He chuckled and squeezed your hand after a moment of hesitation. Spinner gave you a questioning glance, as if asking if that action was okay. “I think-”

Ring ring!

“Now that’s an old-fashioned ring tone!” You laughed and Spinner rolled his eyes.

“It’s Shigiraki,” he confirmed as he looked at the lit-up screen. “I really don’t want to answer…”

He’s probably wondering what the fuck is going on. Although I’m sure he doesn’t care much beyond the fact that Spinner and I aren’t dead. Man, he’s gonna pissed about all of this. “I thought he was amongst the excited crowd this morning?” You asked teasingly. “Wasn’t he right there beside Toga and Magne with that excited grin he gets?” Your voice was thick with sarcasm.

Spinner snorted. He replied in a voice equally as sarcastic, “Oh yeah. That sounds like him alright.”

“Well this’ll be fun. Let me just grab a charging cord…” You dug around in your couch cushions for a moment.

Of course, unknowingly to you, Spinner stood right behind you unable to take his eyes off of you. His head was spinning in a way that he had previously thought only alcohol could achieve; there was no way this could be real…

Taking a deep breath, he looked at his hand. It was still warm from your touch. He glanced around your apartment only to jump when you clasped his arm with a triumphant grin. Those eyes, that smile, that nose – Everything really… “Ready?”

“Yeah. Don’t text Shig yet though. I got an idea, let’s pretend I’m missing. Oh! Or dead!”

“Do you want to actually die?” Spinner asked, deadpan. “Because that’s a one-way ticket.” His face nearly burst into flames when you planted a kiss on his cheek. He grumbled abashedly while looking at the floor.

#bnha lov #bnha x reader #bnha spinner #spinner x reader #shuichi iguchi x reader #shuichi iguchi

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in-tua-deep · 5 years

Note

Five finds a pillow pet in the apocolypse and goes fucking nuts. Similarly could also happen with a snuggie

you say pillow pet but what i hear is “Five having more than Dolores in the apocalypse au”

so it starts with Dolores. He picks her up, and she has a human face that isn’t decomposing, and it’s partially on a whim that he sticks her in his little red wagon and partially out of desperation. He needs company, he needs someone to talk with, or else he’s going to genuinely go insane.

He takes her with him because he remembers reading about programmers who talk to rubber ducks in order to find problems in the code, and he thinks “okay, this mannequin will be my rubber duck and she’ll help me with my equations to go home, simple as that”

it’s not as simple as that, and Dolores becomes someone real

but Dolores isn’t enough

he finds the teddy bear in the street, dropped a dusty and he very purposefully does not look around for where its owner might be. He already knows there are no survivors - he checked every body he came across in those first few weeks. But the bear is sitting there, and it looks so sad, and he has room in his wagon - and he just picks it up without really thinking about it and pops it next to Dolores.

Five names him Buddy, and learns that Buddy has a wicked sense of humor if a little dark.

Next he finds a little stuffed cat caught between bits of rubble. He’d thought it was a body at first (it wasn’t just humans killed in the apocalypse, after all) but no. The fabric is face, the eyes are plastic, and maybe once upon a time it was white but apocalypse living doesn’t exactly help with cleanliness. He calls her Snowy anyway, and places her in the wagon next to Dolores and Buddy. She’s very shy at first, and she doesn’t like Buddy’s jokes, but Dolores enjoys having another girl on the team.

And from there on it becomes a thing.

He doesn’t take all of them with him, and some are only temporary companions. Jasper is a dog that’s missing two legs. Scrappy is probably a panda but honestly is so filthy that Five is just guessing. Will is some sort of goofy looking monster. But every one he finds, he brushes off and introduces to the others and has a conversation - even if they’re just pretend conversations. Because it’s the end of the world and he’s the only one left and he’s hanging onto his sanity by his fingernails but having some form of companionship is… nice.

Even if it isn’t real.

So Five lives the apocalypse surrounded by dozens of toys who never speak but who have their own individual personalities that Five learns. He breathes life into them and makes them real, or as real as they can possibly be out in the apocalypse. It isn’t always stuffed animals. Sometimes it’s other mannequins. Sometimes he pauses to say hello to an intact statue, tracing the names people over the years have drawn and carved into them with gentle fingers.

He keeps Dolores by his side always, she was the first and he is most attached to her. The others are a somewhat rotating cast. Candles the lion lives in the ruins of the pharmacy with Jellybean the giraffe. Hoot the owl perches on top of what Five figures must have been an old church bell or something. Chip the hedgehog usually stands around the halfway point between the library ruins and the ruins of the umbrella academy. They’re familiar faces that when Five goes out scavenging, he calls out greetings to and pretends he receives them in return. An entire unliving city full of the creations of a desperate, lonely child.

They’re his neighbors. They’re his friends. They’re all the companionship he has out there as the only person left in the world.

And then the commission grabs him, and he leaves his friends behind, and he wasn’t quite expecting it to hurt as much as it did because he’s always been gearing up to leave them eventually. To travel back in time and save his siblings. But it still leaves him anxious and jumpy without any of his friends to confide in, though Dolores at least is with him even if she does constantly point out that his equations aren’t finished.

He goes back. He shows up on the day of the funeral. He goes to find the owner of a glass eye, he speaks to his brother, and then he shows up with Dolores. His siblings don’t question her. But they are slightly more confused when random stuffed animals start also popping up in the house.

“What’s this?” Allison asks, puzzled, picking up what could be a crocodile or a lizard or… something vaguely reptilian in looks.

Five doesn’t even look up, “That’s Snorri. Snorri, Allison. Allison, Snorri.”

“Okay.” Allison says slowly, and puts the stuffed toy back on the counter.

And when the stop the apocalypse, it keeps happening. Luther sits on the couch and is immediately shoved at by Five who has jumped over in a flash of blue. “You’re suffocating her!” He’s yelling, and Luther moves, and Five fishes out a stuffed whale which might or might not look like it came from the giftshop of the local aquarium. Five jumps away, cradling ‘her’ protectively in his arms before Luther can say a word.

“Should we ask about this?” Klaus asks at the breakfast table after Five takes his leave, looking at the place at the table where Five has placed a stuffed dog as if it was actually a person. “Like, I feel this is something we should be somewhat concerned about?” and nobody has anything to say to that, because Five had just carried out a one-sided conversation with a stuffed animal at the breakfast table like that was a normal and sane thing to do.

Finally Diego, who was volunteered by his family and upon refusal was goaded into it by Luther sighing and saying that he supposed, as team leader he should - , addresses the issue. Sort of.

“So uh,” Diego coughs from where he’s sitting awkwardly on the couch. Five is cross legged on the floor next to the coffee table, scribbling away at some equations while a plush wolf watches over with baleful eyes where its placed across from him on the tabletop. “What’s your uh, friend’s name?”

“Allie.” Five gestures with a wave of his hand, “She’s the best with polynomial functions.”

Diego nods, like that makes sense. “And uh, where did she come from?”

“I made Allie’s acquaintance on the corner of First and Gregory, I believe. She was trapped under a street lamp and about half a house when I found her.” Five says absently, still mostly focused on his equations. Honestly it’s easiest to get answers out of Five like this, when he’s only paying attention to what he’s saying with half his brain.

“Oh uh, in the apocalypse?” Diego asks dumbly, as if there were random collapsed houses in the streets.

But Five doesn’t call him out, too busy scribbling out some more numbers to bother verbally eviscerating his brother. He just nods.

“Are they all from the apocalypse?” Diego prods a little further, a picture starting to become clear in his mind and it’s not exactly one he’s liking.

“Mmhmm.” Five hums, “It’s not everyone, obviously. I’m not going to tear anyone away from their family of course. But anyone I met in shops and the like are fair game, and they’d much rather live with someone familiar to them until we figure out accommodations.”

“Accommodations?” Diego was so not ready for this discussion. He shouldn’t have let Luther manipulate him. He should have volunteered Vanya for it instead, no matter her excuses about actually having a job or whatever.

“Yeah,” Five nods, frowning at his paper for a moment before quickly erasing a number and continuing on, “Like Hoot used to live on the church bell but she can’t anymore ‘cause the church is still up. And people would try and make Chip move if he lived on Windsor street again.”

“Alright.” Diego says, and then decides to bite the bullet, “You do know they’re stuffed animals, right?”

The scratching of the pencil stops abruptly, and Diego finds himself staring into Five’s furious eyes. Five stands gracefully and Diego shifts warily, almost expecting Five to launch himself at his brother and attack. But no, instead Five scoops up the plush wolf into his arms and looks at Diego like he’s dirt, “You can apologize to Allie when you’re ready.” Five sniffs, before jumping away and taking the wolf with him.

Diego goes back to the rest of the family and is basically like ‘so like, he found them all in the apocalypse i think. He plans on rehoming them? I think? So I guess just… ignore it for now. And also if I’m smothered in my sleep know that it was murder.’

but yes five with lots of apocalypse friends of his own making, but dolores is still the most important because that’s his wife !!

and yes, some of those friends might be pillow pets :’)

#ask me #bluemedallion #neighbors au #tua #the umbrella academy #five hargreeves #number five #dolores #tua dolores #diego hargreeves #allison hargreeves #luther hargreeves #klaus hargreeves #vanya hargreeves #far tua long #plush companion au

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radioactivepeasant · 5 years

Text

Fic Prompts: Star Wars Wednesday

(Part Two)

You...you what?"

The last shreds of Luke's carefully constructed mask of calm were beginning to give way. When Darth Vader had separated him from Wedge and the two Rebel techs who hadn't made it off-planet with the rest of the Squadron (Asher and Taniz, Luke thought their names were), and herded him into a separate shuttle, Luke had been fully convinced that he was about to die.

That might have been preferable compared to the extreme disorientation he was currently experiencing.

[[MORE]]

Luke attempted to take a shuddering breath, but it was more shallow than he would've liked. It was a lie, it had to be. It didn't make sense!

...Except that it did, where the Force was concerned. He wasn't lying. And that was worse because that meant that Obi-wan Kenobi and who knew how many others had lied. And Luke was still trying to process the aftermath of the failed mission -- and failing miserably -- he really didn't need this too.

Vader stepped a little closer -- too close! Oh Force he's close, that's close -- and tilted his helmet down, as if considering Luke for a moment. Then, almost hesitantly, he repeated himself.

"I am your father, Luke."

Luke needed to sit down.

Actually, on second thought, he needed to escape this room, find Wedge, Asher, and Taniz, and get off of the Executor. Then he needed to sit down. And scream. And never sleep again, probably. Not necessarily in that order.

But then again, it sounded as if someone was already screaming. Adding his own voice to the cacophany would just be unnecessary.

Oh. Wait. That was his voice.

Well then.

There was a sort of a desk-thing on the opposite side of the room that Luke could've sat at, but that would've meant crossing the room and passing Vader. Luke really didn't want to turn his back on the man. (Was he a man? Well he had to be, or else he couldn't be his fa-) Luke tried to drown out the thought and was largely successful. There were so many thoughts flying about in his mind at present that it all sounded like static in his ears.

What was he trying to do?

Oh right, breathe.

Vader shifted his weight and hooked his hands around his belt -- an idle thought distinguished itself from the maelstrom in Luke's mind and he wondered if the dark lord was trying to keep from fidgeting. Then the accumulation of all the stress of the last ten hours caught up with him again and he pointedly tried to look anywhere but at Vader.

"Luke?" Vader sounded almost...concerned. It was hard to tell with that vocoder.

Luke shook his head and focused on taking a few ragged breaths. "...too much. It's too much," he gasped.

Calm down, Luke. Simplify. Process.

He closed his eyes and leaned against the wide viewport, trying to find a place in his brain for this new and frankly shattering revelation.

He had used up all his composure and bravado on the planet below, making defiant retorts while standing amidst horribly mutilated corpses, desperately trying to pretend he hadn't almost been eaten forty minutes earlier.

And that was the other thing. The adrenaline from the fight had worn off, and he was well aware that he was trembling. It was only partly to do with Vader's confession. Seeing people eaten alive tended to have that sort of effect on a person.

Major Deyna had taken Rogue Squadron down with him to raid a sparsely guarded Imperial outpost on the edge of some kind of unidentified biological preserve. The raid had, for the most part, been successful. They'd captured the outpost with minimal casualties on either side and had already sliced into their holonet connection -- the reason for the raid, given their proximity to more closely guarded areas -- to steal a list of coordinates the Empire suspected of holding Rebel bases. They'd managed to download three of twelve pages before one of the captured officers managed to trigger an alarm.

They had been expecting reinforcements. The siren attracted something else. One of the men on Deyna's stealth team had run outside to signal the Alliance that the mission had run into complications. Luke had felt a flash of warning in the Force, too little too late.

A pair of jaws comparable in size to those of a lesser krayt dragon closed over the man and pulled him screaming into the air. The screams didn't last long.

Luke set his jaw as reality hit him again.

he's dead, Trex is dead, oh kriff oh stars what do we tell his fiance oh kriff he's dead

In the ensuing fiasco, the captured Imperials got loose, five running straight into the jaws of the waiting "chompers" who had come to investigate the siren. Luke had felt each death like a sickening gap in the Force. He'd almost saved the next man, one of the slicing team. He'd managed to catch hold of the Clawdite's arm, attempting to pull him out of the way of one of the massive reptilian creatures.

The arm had gone one way, the man another.

Another of the chompers had then proceeded to make a concentrated effort to eat him. It had very nearly succeeded. Luke remembered looking into four rows of serrated teeth, too afraid to breathe. Then Major Deyna had fired a rocket at it, startling the creature enough for it to let Luke fall out of its mouth. He'd cut himself pretty good on its teeth on the way down.

Luke wrinkled his brow. Oh. That's why his back hurt.

Sensing Luke's rising stress, Vader eased a little closer -- remarkable restraint for a Sith lord, really, not that Luke was aware of his surroundings enough to notice -- and his hand twitched, as if in an aborted attempt to reach out for him.

"Calm yourself, young one," the deep bass voice was too close, too loud. It was rattling Luke's teeth. "You need to breathe."

Luke opened his eyes at this, and glanced up at Vader before wincing and looking away. He needed to think. He needed space. He needed -- Well. He didn't know what he needed right now. He'd watched comrades be torn apart and eaten by giant lizard monsters, he and Wedge had been left behind in the retreat and captured by the Empire, and the man who had tortured Leia and killed Obi-wan -- killed thousands! -- might be his father.

No "might" about it. He's telling the truth the Force seemed to remind him pitilessly.

"You are injured." Vader loomed ominously over Luke. He sounded either displeased or worried and it was rather difficult to tell the difference between the two.

Luke let the silence stretch for a few seconds while he tried to gather his thoughts into some semblance of coherence, then shrugged, eliciting a wince. "Chomper got me," he rasped, distracted.

"Are you...alright?"

It was such an absurd question that Luke couldn't stop a hysterical giggle from bursting out of his mouth. He raked a hand through his hair and tugged sharply on the ends.

"No," he answered honestly.

He was tired, and confused, and in pain, and everything he'd thought he'd known about his past had been pulled out from under him. He was also a prisoner of the Empire, though he hadn't been taken to a cell yet, he was pretty sure it was coming. He wasn't going to be "alright" for a while.

When Luke looked up again, Vader was close enough that he had to crane his neck to meet the man's gaze. Well, he thought he was meeting his gaze. It was a little hard to tell with the mask. Vader said nothing, and Luke was strangely grateful for that. He had too many emotions to sort through for now. Fear. Horror. Betrayal. Definitely some trauma. And yet at the same time, curiosity. He'd once told Nakari that someday he wanted to speak to Darth Vader, ask him how he'd fallen so that he would know what to avoid. The irony of getting exactly what he'd wished for was not lost on him. He could ask exactly that. It probably wouldn't end well for him though. This was still Darth Vader, after all.

His chest was tight and he couldn't take a full breath. It felt like his lungs were trying to collapse and hide behind his heart because Vader was a lot closer than he'd thought! But Luke felt he should at least attempt to say something. He opened his mouth, but no sound came out. He swallowed, tried again, and managed a pathetic squeak that didn't even sound like words.

"Why- why did- you never-" Luke trailed off, unable to complete any of the sentences he'd begun. Another hysterical laugh threatened to burst out of him, and he squeezed his eyes shut.

Vader was silent at first, and there was an almost tangible tension between them, cutting into the freezing cold that Luke suspected was part of Vader's presence in the Force. Then, unexpectedly, his question was answered as though Vader had worked out exactly what he'd been trying to say.

"I was...led to believe that you had died in infancy. I was as unprepared for the truth as you are now."

Luke wasn't quite sure how to take that. Did that mean he'd been surprised in a good way, or did that mean he'd been hunting down a loose end to tie up? Luke was not surprised to discover that he hadn't shielded that thought. He wasn't calm enough to do more than use the Force to detect truth at present. He was a little surprised by how vehemently Vader reacted.

"You are not a "loose end"," the words came out rough, more a snarl than a sentence, and Luke flinched. Immediately, some of the grasping cold receded and Vader's next words were much more controlled. "You are my son. I have been searching for you for over a year. You have certainly not made it easy for me. But then, you are very powerful."

Was that...pride in his voice? It couldn't be, Luke decided that he was misinterpreting what he was hearing. At the very least, it seemed to suggest that Vader didn't want to kill him, which was probably good. Unless interrogation was still on the table, in which case he was still doomed.

"Well, I try to stay alive," he croaked, then cringed. What the- Why did I say that?

There was a pause, during which Luke wondered if Vader was blinking, trying to work out what Luke was trying to say, then, "I am glad. That you are alive," in a slightly uncomfortable tone.

He hadn't meant to say it. Luke could at least sense that. But he also meant every word of it. Luke tried to say something, tried to figure out how to respond or at the very least what to call the emotion rising up from his chest to choke him. He blinked and was mortified to discover tears in his eyes. No! He was not going to cry in front of a Sith! But he was tired. He was too tired to do much more than stay upright, and even that was getting difficult. He wasn't sure how much blood he'd lost earlier, but it was probably enough to explain the dizziness.

He might've tried to say something, but even he wasn't sure. Luke let his head drop, resting his forehead against the armored chest that was so conveniently nearby. He sensed confusion and even a little apprehension from Vader, and for a moment the mechanized breathing seemed to stutter.

Luke tensed for just a moment when a large hand settled on his shoulder, but it didn't move to either pull him closer or shove him away, and so he relaxed a little. The other hand brushed across his hair briefly before falling on his other shoulder. The weight pulled at the skin, aggravating the lacerations on his back and shoulders, but Luke only made a muffled groan of protest.

"You," Vader said in a tone of finality, "Are going to a medic."

"I," Luke answered in a half bemused tone, "Am probably going to faint now."

Well, at least Vader could be grateful for the warning.

#fic prompts #writing prompts #star wars au #star wars wednesday #Luke Skywalker #Darth Vader #long post #old fic #Vader has no idea what he's doing #Luke will be more receptive to overthrowing the emperor in this world

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