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love-too · 2 years

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I don’t think I have ever talked about this with someone. Or rather, I tried at first, but people were set on misunderstanding me at the time. It literally keeps me up at night because of the shame I still feel thinking back on it.

Anyways, I was still in elementary school and here we have this tradition of organizing a big dinner with parents and kids for the end of the school year. I remember me and my family were getting ready and my mum started asking me and my siblings who we’d like to seat next to. My siblings answered and then, when it came my turn, I answered with the name of a boy who I found really smart and mature and emotionally kind. All of this platonically. But, as soon as I said that, my siblings and my mum started teasing me (now I use the word teasing, but at the time it felt just like they were making fun of me) and telling me that I had a crush on him and I wanted to kiss him and blah blah blah

I remember yelling - YELLING - because of this. I was a fierce, but quiet kid so it wasn’t exactly like me to do so. And I tried to reason with them, but they wouldn’t budge. I felt so much shame at that moment and tears filled up my eyes. My god, the memory of the frustration I felt still makes my skin crawl. I felt like I wasn’t being heard. Why was the truth getting ignored? I wanted to straighten things out, I wanted to make sure that they knew I didn’t have a crush on the boy. I wanted to make sure that their thoughts matched my view, but how could I have done that, when they were so unwilling to listen?

So I just stopped talking about boys in front of basically anyone. I watched my words and measured my reactions regarding them. And then it wasn’t enough, because, after puberty, I had to start doing the same things about girls. And that was even scarier because that meant they were suspecting I could be queer, and that’s not the best in a christian family worried about sin.

Now, looking back at it, I think this is one of the reasons why it took me so much to come to terms with being aroace. Because at first I thought I actually wasn’t, I was just trying to disguise my feelings. I thought I had *made myself* unemotional and unavailable and that it was just a matter of time and retrying.

So I went down to the beach and kissed a boy and I let him touch me in ways that I didn’t dislike, but that I wasn’t exaclty seeking. And then I tried to heal and getting out of my shell and make queer friends, because I’m 23, I’m away from home and I’m old and time is running out. And the moment I do and I get comfortable and I let a boy card his hands through my hair in public while we seat across from this girl that’s just making fun of his restless hands and not teasing about the situation - because there’s nothing to tease about, because we’re just friends and we’re all queer and I might still not have said the words out loud, but I feel like they would accept it without a second guess - and I tell my mum in my excitement of finally having new friends, the first thing she asks is: and is he handsome?

And I once again feel seven again, trying to yell at my mum that I don’t have a crush on the boy, that I just feel we’re akin and we get along well. But this time I’m halfway across the world, so I just clutch my phone till my knuckles get white and I lie and I out him as something that he’s not. And the shame is still there and my skull itches in the spot where he braided my hair in the same way that my throath does under the power of my tears needling at my lungs. And this is all so stupid, and I’ll never be able to be myself, not even 15 years apart, not even halfway across the globe. I just want to rip my hair off.

#personal #sorry for posting this on a sunday #but i feel like if i don't let it out i'll just go insane #aromantic #aroace #asexual #asexuality #am i asexual #am i aromantic?#sexuality crisis #roba mia #13.11.2022

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gatorbites-imagines · 2 years

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Could you do an edward nashton x m!reader fic where the reader is trying to figure out who the riddler is (maybe they do IT or somethin & they found rataalada) and ed realizes how close he is to finding him out? This is my first request sorry if it's worded poorly ahfvlwaiy

Edward Nashton x Male reader

Headcanons

No worries, I think it’s a great request, I just hope I wrote something you enjoy ^^

I went kind of off base, as I really liked this idea and it kinda just took a life of its own, so I hope that’s okay haha. Reader has kind of become an unwilling acomplice.

Its not as romantic in this one, but I’d be willing to write a part 2 if anybody is interested. It might have slightly darker themes though if I did lol.

- It happens one day when you’re at your job that you hate, as a lowly IT-worker at a large company that isn’t known for treating its workers well.

- You’re just scrolling through the internet, and at some point, stumble across a few small social media accounts talking about a website. Normally you would just move on, but what keeps your interest is that they’re all talking in riddles. Some of them are really bad, but it piques your interest.

- Seeing as your boss never checks on you other than to yell at you, you click the link and end up on a fully black website with a bright green question mark and timer, telling you when the next stream is. Its first that evening, so you shrug, save the link on your personal phone, and continue surfing the web the rest of the workday.

- That night you’ve almost forgot everything about the weird website you found earlier, as you stumbled into many of the same kind.

- It’s when you’re sitting on your couch, shoveling dinner into your mouth when you remember. When you check the website, it looks like you joined right in the middle of whatever stream is happening.

- It really just looks like a weirdo, probably roleplaying a villain for money donations or alike, something you have seen before. Since you’re bored you stick around and leave a few comments under a randomly generated username. Seeing as there are very few people there as the main streamer only has around 300 followers, you get to interact with the guy.

- He’s super weird, you conclude. And maybe a little too into the role of supervillain/stalker mastermind

- You keep checking in on the streams as the weeks go, and as time goes you realize maybe this guy actually means it. He knows a little too much, his plans are a little too detailed. But you’ve lived in Gotham your entire life, so you aren’t completely put off.

- You’ve become kind of a constant in the Riddler’s streams when you aren’t at work, and you end up playing along with the whole villain thing, since you too dislike the people in charge, but who doesn’t. At times it’s just the two of you and the conversation goes from wanting the people in charge dead, to your everyday life.

- You learn stuff about the Riddler, and he learns stuff about you. Its never really enough to truly know who the other is, but it builds some kind of friendship between you.

- Its when the mayor dies that it finally clicks that you might have gotten involved with something you shouldn’t. You see it on the news as you’re choking down a protein bar of some sort, as your boss ordered you to work overtime. The talk of the Riddler makes blood drain from your face, as crumbs fall onto your desk as your jaw drops.

- You abandon your work to check the website, and see its locked behind a code. Of course, you know the code, as the Riddler gave it to you the other night

- You sit in horror as what you believed was some weirdo cosplayer talks proudly about what he did. He must have seen your username pop up cuz he greets you personally. You can’t think straight as the little food you just ate seems to want to come right back up.

- At some point you find yourself throwing up the meager contents in your stomach in the little trash bin by your desk.

- For some reason you end up watching his stream, and interacting with him like always. But it must be obvious you aren’t your full self, as other common viewers end up asking if you’re alright. You come up with an excuse of having been forced to work extra.

- You don’t know what to do when the stream ends and the Riddler tells you and every viewer that what he did was only the first.

- You can’t call the police you decide, as Gotham police can’t be trusted and since you are pretty much an accomplice in what happened, and you don’t think they’ll take you roleplaying as a good alibi.

- You have to do it yourself you decide, and end up using your meager hacking skills to look deeper into the website.

- You find pictures and screenshots of the higher classes people in Gotham, and an almost creepy amount of the Wayne family.

- Pulling out your phone, you take pictures of your screen, not wanting to give any clue that you’re collecting proof. What are you gonna do with it? You’re not sure, maybe print it and mail it anonymously to the police, was it possible to contact Batman in some way?

- It’s when you’re scrolling through the many pictures, trying to burn them into your memory when a chatbox pops up in the corner, it makes your heart jump into your throat when you see the Riddler’s username.

- “You finally went deeper (username), I thought I was gonna do all the planning myself but now we can really work together”

- Oh god, what have you gotten into.

#dc #batman 2022 #riddler #edward nashton #male reader #dc imagine #dc headcanon #dc x male reader #batman 2022 imagine #batman 2022 headcanon #batman 2022 x male reader #riddler headcanon #riddler imagine #riddler x male reader #edward nashton x male reader #edward nashton headcanon #edward nashton imagine

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kurowrites · 4 years

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Since you like cute fluffy prompts, how about everyone assumes LWJ and WWX will end up together for political reasons (which is fine, it's a smart match) but then slowly come to the realization that they actually really like each other?

Celebratory arranged marriage fic! This is probably not what you expected, but oh well! :D

---

"Wangji, are you sure this is what you want?" Lan Xichen asked.

Lan Xichen had invited Lan Wangji to the Hanshi to have tea with him, and although Lan Wangji had expected his brother to have something on his mind that he did not want to discuss in front of their uncle, he would have preferred if his brother had not voiced his concerns. It would have made things... easier.

Lan Wangji studied the bottom of his teacup for a long time before he was able to raise his gaze to meet the concerned eyes of his brother and speak.

"Xiongzhang," he finally said. "I have agreed to the proposal. I am not... unwilling. I never expected to fall in love."

Lan Xichen looked like he wanted to say something, but one glance from Lan Wangji had him maintain his silence.

"I do not place value on such impermanent emotions. To have a steady companion will be enough."

"Oh, Wangji," Lan Xichen sighed. "Sometimes I fear Uncle has had too much success with your education. You deserve to be loved, you know?"

Lan Wangji did not know how to reply to that.

He was not unhappy, that was the truth.

He had long known that a political marriage would be an inevitability, eventually. The steadily aggravating situation with the Qishan Wen sect, Jin Guangshan's own questionable ambitions; it had only been a matter of time until the other sects saw their hand forced. It was only natural that they would want to strengthen their own alliances and raise their defences. Arranged marriages were only too common in situations as these.

He should be glad, he thought, that his chosen partner would be Wei Wuxian. His uncle might not be as happy with the choice, might have preferred someone else, perhaps a woman. But to Lan Wangji, it had been the best choice out of the few that he had had. The Gusu Lan and Yunmeng Jiang sects needed a stronger alliance, and barring marrying Jiang Wanyin himself, Wei Wuxian had been the best choice. Naturally, Madam Yu would insist that Jiang Wanyin's wife would be a woman, someone that could bear the future sect heir.

Thinking rationally, choosing Wei Wuxian had been less of a choice and more of a given. The marriage needed to be both strong in terms of the ties that it created, but also unoffensive enough so that no other sects would object.

The only other possible choice would have been Nie Huaisang. But considering that Nie Mingjue and Lan Xichen were already sworn brothers, the alliance to the Jiang sect took precedence.

Lan Xichen sighed again.

"I just want you to be happy, Wangji."

"I am content, Xiongzhang. There is no cause for unhappiness."

His brother said nothing, but Lan Wangji could read his thoughts on his face.

After all, he had deliberately evaded referring to himself as 'happy.'

---

When he had agreed to the marriage, he had thought about Wei Wuxian, and felt a sliver of worry. Lan Wangji might be content to marry for politics, and settle for nothing more than a companion, but he had always felt that Wei Wuxian would want more than that.

Wei Wuxian had always been a passionate person; it followed that he would be a passionate man when it came to love, as well.

Instead, he was going to marry Lan Wangji.

Would he be content with simple companionship? Lan Wangji had considered it once, offering Wei Wuxian the opportunity to practice... certain activities outside the marriage, to keep a lover on the side. But something deep inside him rebelled against the idea. He didn't know if he would be able to live with the knowledge that his husband would seek the embrace of another.

And Wei Wuxian had agreed to the marriage, after all. He had known who Lan Wangji was when he agreed, and he had known the conditions attached to the marriage.

Still, there was the smallest nagging voice in the back of his head that told him that someone like Wei Wuxian was made for love. Not for marrying men like Lan Wangji for the sake of politics. He still remembered when Wei Wuxian had visited Cloud Recesses for the first time. He had heard that Wei Wuxian had calmed down a little since he had become an adult, but Lan Wangji remembered all too well how much of a flirt he had been, how openly he had carried all his emotions on his sleeve. Wei Wuxian had not been made for politics.

Still, the marriage would happen. They had both agreed to the proposal, their families had agreed to the proposal. Soon, they would be here, and Lan Wangji would be a married man.

---

"So," Wei Wuxian smiled once they were finally alone, back in the familiar quiet of the Jingshi. "Looks like we're married, huh? I feel a little bad for you - you must have wanted a nice, quiet wife, and yet here you are, with someone who's neither nice, quiet, nor a wife."

He let his eye wander over the room in front of him, and Lan Wangji wondered what it looked like to Wei Wuxian's eyes. As the rest of Cloud Recesses, it must seem like a horribly boring place to him.

Lan Wangji himself had no eyes for the room in front of him, however. He looked at Wei Ying, resplendent in his red wedding robes, and tried to remember if Wei Wuxian had already been this handsome before, or if the maids had simply done an excellent job in anticipation of the wedding ceremony. He truly looked like a heavenly prince, in his red robes, his hair half done up with an elaborate braid, decorated with a hair piece that had been part of Lan Wangji's betrothal gifts.

"What about the living arrangements?" Wei Wuxian asked, rousing Lan Wangji from his thoughts.

Lan Wangji frowned. "It is customary that we share the Jingshi with each other."

Wei Wuxian sent him a look he found difficult to decipher.

"Is that what you want?" he asked. "Forgive me my bluntness, Lan Zhan, but I cannot help but think that my presence here will be a disturbance for you. I don't want to force you into bearing my presence and suffer my noise. I know you don't like to be touched; you can hardly be wanting to share a bed with me."

Lan Zhan felt his heart thump loudly. He had considered before that it was possible that Wei Wuxian might insist on a token marriage. That was essentially what it was, after all. But now that he was faced with Wei Wuxian's evident dislike of the idea to cohabit, he found himself... disappointed.

"I had hoped for companionship," he found himself saying, hardly even knowing what he was doing. "I- No. It does not matter. If you are unwilling to share quarters, I will look for another room. The Jingshi is yours."

His answer was met with wide, disbelieving eyes.

"Lan Zhan!" Wei Wuxian exclaimed. "Why would you think I'd be unwilling to share? Or throw you out of your own home? I was trying to be respectful of your wishes! I-"

He suddenly fell silent.

"Wei Ying."

Wei Wuxian sent him another unreadable look.

But Lan Wangji was good at waiting people out. He stood there, silent, as he studied the beautiful embroidery on Wei Wuxian's robes, and watched his husband consider his answer.

"I had hoped for a hug," Wei Wuxian suddenly burst out. "That's it. I know I can't expect much from this marriage, Lan Zhan, and I don't want to force you into anything you don't want to, but I had hoped for at least a hug, now and then. If I can't-"

He bit his lips and fidgeted with the seams of his robes.

"Look at me, doing my best to fuck this marriage up on the wedding night," he said, laughing quietly, even though there was nothing funny about it.

"Wei Ying," Lan Wangji said again. Wei Ying looked at him, and Lan Wangji was almost sure there was something akin to fear in his eyes.

That was… distasteful. He did not want his own husband to be afraid of him. And he would never want-

He himself remembered a time when a hug had been all he had wanted, but he had never had the courage to ask for it. And now, all he had left was the bitter taste of regret.

He tried to find the right words that would adequately express that he was willing to work for the success of this marriage, token or not. That he was willing to accommodate Wei Wuxian, within the realms of possibility. They had both agreed to this marriage. They had to pay the price.

But the words would not come, not as he wanted them to.

In the end, he could do nothing but uselessly lift his arms.

"I will hug Wei Ying," he said.

It was terribly nonsensical and did not help in illustrating the point he was trying to make. But Wei Wuxian smiled a sudden, brilliant smile, and stepped right into his arms as if it were nothing.

"Mh," Wei Wuxian said, his face pressed into Lan Zhan's shoulder.

And Lan Wangji closed his arms, giving the promised hug.

Maybe that was enough, for now.

---

The next morning, Lan Wangji woke before dawn, as he always did.

For once, however, things were a little different.

On this morning, he woke with Wei Wuxian still in his embrace, his face buried in Lan Wangji’s shoulder, occasionally huffing out a deep breath that warmed Lan Wangji’s skin through his wrinkled robe.

Lan Wangji considered his new reality for a moment. He decided that the assessment he had given his brother had been accurate:

He might just be able to be contented, indeed.

#kuro writes #the untamed #wei wuxian #lan wangji #wangxian #mdzs #terratenshi

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latent-thoughts · 3 years

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The people who are dissing the clip either really lack common sense or are just doing it because they've deliberately been trying to pick out every little flaw from the trailers and clips that they can just to add to their argument that Marvel has treated Loki badly. They're so obsessed with trying to propagate that idea that they're absolutely unwilling to even open their mind to the possibility that the series might be good. Like, we KNOW that Marvel has treated Loki badly, dipshit. But we're watching TRAILERS. Heck, this isn't even an official trailer (it's not even on the official YouTube channel yet!) and there's no guarantee it's gonna be included in the series anyway! Some people MIGHT actually like where this is going and have high hopes, and the ones who don't are trying to make them feel bad, from what I saw of that one ask you answered. First of all, that scene has an actual purpose. It's not meant to sexualise him or it would've lasted longer, like the scenes with shirtless Thor did. Secondly, NONE of the posts I've seen so far today have people condoning what's being done to him. Hell, very few people are even worried about that yet unless it's in the posts breaking this exact argument down. All everyone is concerned about is Loki's tits, and that's abs-fucking-olutely (haha get it?) okay. If you don't like it, well and good. But the people who are actively hating on anyone who likes it and are being like "oh I'm unfollowing whoever reblogs Loki's tits" is an absolute asshole. Please don't listen to them, anon from previous ask. If I see Loki's tits, hell yeah I'm gonna thirst over Loki's tits. If anyone has a problem with that, well then that's not my problem.

My list of unfollowed people keeps growing. I mean, I know it's hard to please everyone. Someone somwhere will find something they dislike in any material.

Those who dislike the scene or other promo stuff are totally entitled to their opinions. 100%. They do that on their blogs and they get mad respect from me.

The problem starts when people come into my (or others') ask box or DMs and start to diss the series or that particular scene, or abuse us for liking it. That's the hallmark of anti behaviour (if I don't like something, you also cannot like it), and I will not stand for it.

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inkweaver22-blr · 3 years

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Here’s another filler chapter! I like how it turned out so I hope ya’ll do too! Enjoy.

AO3 Link

Scattered Cicadas - Chapter Twelve: Memory Proof

Tang learns a bit about the twins. Being in the same body as them might have something to do with that.

----------

Tang hid behind some debris in the ruined theater as he watched Macaque approach the shattered Shadow Lantern. He had been hoping to collect the pieces for himself to try and study the artifact’s ability to trap souls. The data he could potentially obtain from it would be priceless in trying to come up with a counter to his curse once he found it’s cause.

But just because they were intelligent, didn’t mean they had common sense. The amount of harebrained plots and ideas they had that blew up in their faces due to not thinking everything through was almost comical.

Abandoning his plan for now, Tang waited patiently for Macaque to leave so he could make his exit as well.

Suddenly the Mayor was there.

Tang tensed in his hiding spot as he watched the man taunt Macaque before surprising the monkey and grabbing him by the throat.

Tang’s pulse raced as he watched Macaque get captured with little effort.

Was this why they never saw Macaque again after these events? Did this happen in every cycle? Just how strong was the Mayor to be able to subdue the shadow demon so quickly?

He needed to get out of here.

Tang froze when he realized the Mayor had vanished without him noticing.

“Now what do we have here?”

Blinding white and blue pain flashed behind Tang’s eyes as he stumbled back. Gasping in panic he looked up to find the Mayor right in front of him, giving the scholar his trademark nonchalant smile.

“Can’t have you running off to spoil the end of the show for the others, now can we” the Mayor said as he held up the Shadow Lantern. “I do love a captive audience!”

Before Tang could react, the lantern was activated, and he knew no more.

----------

He was in the cave, thankfully. The voices called out in concern. The golden-yellow light wrapped around him.

----------

Tang awoke with a start, gasping in panic.

Damn that man!

He hadn’t been killed this time, but being a puppet for the Mayor until the cycle ended was just as unpleasant.

The more he learned about him, the more terrifying to Tang he became.

He would have to do his best to avoid him as much as possible from now on.

Once he got his breathing under control, Tang made his preparations for the day and began his remembering ritual.

It seemed this cycle was one where there were only a few changes. Everything seemed mostly the same except for two details.

The first was that Jin and Yin had been good friends with Mei for years, acting almost like older brothers for her.

The second was that this cycle had Fusion.

Tang groaned at this revelation.

There were many strange and weird magics and powers he had come across in the timelines, but Fusion was the most conflicting for Tang.

Fusion was a special ability where two or more beings would physically combine together into a new, more powerful being. The result was usually a much larger combination of the participants that mixed together their physical characteristics and often sported extra limbs and eyes. Whether the minds of the original beings remained separate or fused into a new personality as well as the permanence of the Fusion tended to be randomly determined like most things in these cycles.

The only constant was the need for absolute trust between all parties that fuse.

Fusion was an intimate process as you shared not just a body with someone else, but your mind as well. Thoughts and memories could not be hidden from a Fusion partner. It was an implicit sign of trust, and oftentimes love, to want to fuse with someone.

Forcing two unwilling beings to fuse was possible, but never went over well in Tang’s experience.

Tang didn’t dislike Fusion. It was an incredible experience the few times he had done so with either Pigsy or Wukong. He had never felt so close with anyone as he did when fused with them.

The problem was the curse.

Fusion required trust and the participants working in synchrony to function. His curse made it impossible for anyone except himself to know about it. When fused, his partners would become confused at the strange gaps in Tang’s mind they couldn’t perceive. The disorientation would destabilize the trust between them, causing them to fall out of sync, and result in the Fusion ending prematurely.

The questions he would receive were ones Tang couldn’t answer, and he was usually treated with suspicion and distrust for the remainder of those cycles. The same problem would occur if he refused to fuse at all, as that implied he didn’t trust anyone.

Luckily for Tang, he wasn’t in a romantic relationship with anyone this cycle and hadn’t fused with anyone yet. There was also a precedent this time for some people finding Fusion nauseating, so he could always fall back on that if pushed.

Hoping it wouldn’t even come to that, Tang left his apartment and made his way to work. He began to think of the second change as he walked.

Jin and Yin. The Gold and Silver Demon Brothers.

The two trouble makers loved to spread chaos wherever they went. Even during the rare occasions like now where they were allies. Schemes, pranks, and hijinks were to be expected whenever they were around.

The twins were smart. That was pretty much a given being the former lab assistants of Lao Tzu. Their talent in crafting magical items was impressive by mortal standards.

Tang had to admire their tenacity though. Their determination never faltered no matter how many failures they had. This was particularly handy when they were allies.

The twins’ self destructive tendencies usually got smoothed out whenever they befriended the group as well. Tang was genuinely surprised a few times by what they had managed to come up with when given a proper sounding board to help point out problems.

He may not consider Jin and Yin to be a part of his extended family, but Tang couldn’t help but have a soft spot for them. Perhaps, in time, he could include them. Maybe when their redemption became more common in the cycles.

But for now he was perfectly fine with just being their friend.

----------

The attack came without warning.

They had all been hanging out at Pigsy’s Noodles when multiple explosions went off across the city. Tang wasn’t sure what happened in all the confusion, but he was currently with Jin and Yin, the three of them separated from the others.

They had been trying to find everyone when the twins had suddenly pushed Tang away from them. There was a loud crashing sound and the air was filled with dust.

Coughing and waving away the dust, Tang stood and looked around. As the smoke began to clear, his heart dropped at what he saw.

“Jin! Yin!”

The twins were trapped under the rubble of a partially collapsed building. Jin’s entire left side was stuck under the debris while Yin was pinned from the waist down.

Neither demon had super strength and were completely helpless. They couldn’t even fuse to escape as they were just out of reach of each other and Fusion required contact.

Tang scrambled over the torn apart street and knelt next to the groaning brothers.

“G-go get help Tang,” Jin said, teeth clenched in pain. “We’ll be fine for now.”

“I am not leaving you two here,” Tang said, looking around for anyone to help, but the street was deserted.

“Come on, we’ll be right here when you come back,” Yin said with a strained smile. “I promise we won’t get up and leave.”

Before Tang could scold him for joking, there was another distant explosion followed by a rumbling sound. The three looked up in horror as the remainder of the building began to sway.

“Shit! Tang you need to leave now!” Jin pushed against the concrete trapping him, but made no progress.

Tang’s mind raced.

None of them were strong enough to push the rubble away. He had no time to go get help before the rest of the building fell. Jin and Yin couldn’t grab each other to fuse.

But he could.

Tang reached out and snatched up the hand of each twin.

“Fuse with me!”

“What?!”

“There’s no time! Fuse with me!”

Spurred on by the urgency of his voice, the twins closed their eyes and focused. Tang did the same and the world melted into gold, silver, and yellow light.

Fusing was always an indescribable experience. Tang felt warm as he felt his body stretch out and merge seamlessly with the twins’. He had no idea which physical traits would be picked from each of them, but their appearance was the least of his worries.

When they opened their eyes, they were standing several feet away from the pile of debris, just as the building began to topple.

“Shit! Go go go,” Jin said from their shared mouth.

They quickly dashed away from the area, their much taller stature allowing them to easily outpace the collapsing structure. Their new body didn’t feel strange in any way, and their combined movements came naturally.

‘Damn, I think my legs are broken,’ Yin said in their shared mind once they paused to take a breath. ‘We’ll have to keep this up until we get to a hospital and unfuse inside.’

‘Pretty sure some rebar had stabbed into my side so ditto on that,’ Jin added.

‘That might be a problem...’ Tang’s nervousness caused their stomach to twist.

‘What does that- Oh. Huh. That’s interesting.’ Jin explored the gaps he found in Tang’ mind with curiosity. ‘Hey Yin, take a look at this.’

‘Whoa. Trippy. Haven’t seen a memory-proof seal like this in a while.’ Yin poked at the spaces gingerly, not wishing to be caught completely in its effects.

‘Look at how big it is though,’ Jin said. ‘You are much older than I thought you were Tang.’

‘No, no, no. His body is definitely only 41 years old. So that means his mind is much older.’

‘Time travel?’

‘That usually has the person physically moving through time, so I doubt it.’

‘How are you two not disoriented by this,’ Tang said as they began to move towards the sounds of the explosions.

‘Should we be?’

‘Oh, yeah, I see what you mean,’ Jin said as he found the context for Tang’s confusion.

The demon didn’t vocalize it, but he projected how he found it interesting that he could get the knowledge on Tang’s past experiences with fusions without the full picture.

‘Oof. Forcefully unfusing and being treated as untrustworthy must suck,’ Yin said.

Tang was about to ask how they were being so unconcerned about this when the context came unbidden from their minds.

Lao Tzu had placed his own memory-proof seals on the twins to prevent them from revealing his secrets. They had to deal with it every time they fused.

Along with that knowledge came the feelings of the desperate need for approval and attention from their master, but never receiving it.

Always having their ideas dismissed. Being told their work was never good enough. Belittling their reliance on one another. Outright destroying their inventions at one point.

‘What an ass,’ Tang said vehemently.

He had worked too hard across the cycles to keep MK from drowning in his insecurities. It was insulting to him that someone he had once respected for their vast knowledge would ever treat anyone like that to make them feel this way.

‘I know, right?’

‘Why do you think we left,’ Jin said.

Tang sent over the context that, while he couldn’t tell them how, he had become an accomplished magician and artificer in his own right.

‘We’re going to make him regret ever dismissing you two,’ Tang vowed.

‘You… You want to take us on as students?’

Tang’s righteous protectiveness over how small Yin had sounded shocked the twins as they felt his warmth of comfort envelope them.

‘I would be honored to have you two as students. There is no way I’d ever let my family feel like they are unwanted.’

‘Family?’

Tang let the context for that free as well as the love he felt for his family, which now included his two new students.

They had to stop walking for a moment as Jin’s and Yin’s emotions caused them to start crying. Tang made sure to keep watch from his set of eyes while they were indisposed.

The joy and appreciation they sent his way in silent thanks was returned with his own.

‘Let’s get you two to a hospital.’ They continued to move once they had composed themselves. ‘I would never forgive myself if I let my favorite students perish from a simple collapsing building.’

‘Aren’t we your only students?’

‘Oi! And what do you mean by a “simple collapsing building''? Are you saying there are other ways you’d let us perish?!’

The master and his students bickered playfully back and forth as they looked around for a hospital that had been undamaged in the attack.

Tang may not have been expecting to add the twins to his family this soon, but he knew he wouldn’t regret it. How he felt for them would live on even past the memory erasing effects of the curse.

Jin and Yin returned the sentiment a hundredfold.

----------

And thus Tang’s family grows in numbers once more! He’s almost completed the whole set by now.

Fusions are an interesting concept and there are plenty of great designs for different combinations out there. While none of them show up in this chapter, I’d like to give a shout out to @winterpower98, @smallpwbbles, @sketchquill, and @ninja-knox-ur-sox-off for their amazing fusion designs! Go check them out!

Don't worry about that bit with the mayor. It's fine.

Next chapter will be another filler! Until then!

#Ink Writes #Monkie Kid #Scattered Cicadas #Tang #Jin #Yin #Lao Tzu #Fusions #Fusion #winterpower98 #smallpwebbles #sketchquill #ninja knox ur sox off #Tang Monkie Kid #LEGO Monkie Kid

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forsakenbysinnoh · 4 years

Text

Random Headcannons for the Demon Bros that no one asked for.

~Lucifer~

Lucifer never refers to God by name, only ever saying "He" or "My Father".

Despite how he may act, he's proud of his brothers, of their independence and strength. His pact mark reflects that, his own star surrounded by the six of his brothers.

With that, he can also be very worried about his brothers. Being an avatar of a sin is a title that can be won. He makes sure no other demons besides his brothers hold that title.

He has a dark sense of humor that can go unnoticed or be mistaken as threats.

Despite his reputation of being controlling, he's actually rather tired of it. He was forced into this position to protect his loved ones, and to try to figure out how to function after losing the war. Sometimes a part of him wants to be told what hes supposed to do, rather than deal with the mess of making it up as he goes along.

The most scarred of the brothers, especially along his chest and back. When he has to, he hides it with illusions, otherwise he doesn't show his skin.

Takes his debts and what he owes people very seriously. It's why he rarely asks for help even in small things.

Is the only one who can force a pact on an unwilling participant.

Isn't afraid of being controlled, but is scared of losing control to the wrong person or partner. It takes a lot of trust to let him drop the reins in a relationship.

Despite turning into a wolf in the 'Paws and Claws' event, I think the best animal to represent him would be a black unicorn.

~Mammon~

Mammon can be kind of a choosing beggar.

Forgets to be empathetic sometimes and can say some callus things. Sometimes it's good as he can be an outside observer in a situation and see things objectively.

His schemes are mainly to pay off debts. No one is quite sure where he keeps accumulating so many from.

Many people call him a coward, but in reality he's a pacifist. He'd rather run than fight.

Unless you get him hot headed, in which case the gloves are off.

Despite this, he's actually one of the most powerful brothers and can usually win a fight with anyone but Lucifer.

Very agile. Is a natural at parkor and free running.

He doesn't have a high opinion of himself, and his self esteem is in the garbage.

Def has a praise kink tho.

If he's really mad at you, he'll pretend you don't exist. He's not one to get into screaming fights, but he's passive aggressive.

I think a golden dragon with a hoarding tendency fits him well lol

~Leviathan~

He's a big nerd. King of nerds. Absolutely owns it.

Levi actually draws a lot of fanart but never shows it to anyone. He's very jealous of others talent and considers his own art bad.

Def has the Devildom equivalent of Tumblr.

Sometimes can be a fandom gatekeeper/hipster. Likely stems from a place of "I liked this before it was popular and got ridiculed for it. Now it's cool and you're taking over my interest."

Super long theories on current shows with in-depth analysis and pulling info from anywhere he can. Be prepared for his cork board on FNAF.

Sometimes Levi forgets other people have feelings too, especially when he's excited about something, and hurts them by accident. Usually goes back to apologize later when he realizes.

Loves to listen to someone nerd out, even if he's not interested in their interest, he likes them and how passionate about.

He's memorized the TSL books and movies. They are his biggest passion and he loves them so much.

He's a self shipper, ships himself with his favorite wifus and husbandos (he has both) and takes those "which character are you?" Quizzes all the time.

Knows how to code and hopes to make his own game one day.

Snake tends to be the go to for Levi, and I think a lizard or another reptile makes sense. They tend to scurry away from most creature, except for those like them.

~Satan~

(My boy so I might be a little biased/rambling here)

Satan was made after Lucifer lost the war, but he started growing in Lucifer's heart before then.

Satan is the only demon/angel that was not made by God directly, and he feels that effects his relationship with others.

He's not good at empathy, and it's a skill he's still working on.

Satan was the serpent in the garden who caused Eve to fall. He thought it was very unfair that God would refuse humanity knowledge, the one thing that he values above all else.

As he was developing/learning from each of his brothers, they each gave him an item that was important to him that he still keeps. Even Lucifer.

Keeps control of his emotions which can lead to violent outbursts if pushed far enough. No one has seen him completely unhinged except Lucifer.

Loves adventure books/series, especially long ones with intricate plots. Murder mysteries are his absolute favorite. Dislikes the 'Love triangle' trope a LOT.

Likes to listen and create stories.

Very magically adept. He knows many advanced spells and always has a hunger to learn more. Probably has made quite a few spells himself.

Cat. He's a cat. There was no competition here. His spirit animal is a kitty and I love him for it.

~Asmodeus~

Asmo, despite being the avatar of lust, cares about consent a lot. He wants his partners to feel good when they're with him, not like they're afraid or helpless.

Well, unless that's your thing, in which case he'll make sure a safe word is in use ;)

Knows a lot about sex. If you have any question he will be happy to answer it without making it seem awkward or taboo. Though he will flirt and offer to show you himself.

He's very confident in his body and looks. Asmo knows he's a catch and good looking, and wants to keep it that way.

Doesn't mind showing off his scars from the war and wishes he could help Lucifer with his perception of his scars.

He will NOT have anyone body shamed in his presence.

Has ALL the gossip. He knows who's sleeping with who, what relationship drama is going down where, and keeps up with it daily.

Gender roles? Who is she? Being beautiful is for anyone.

He shows affection through touch. This makes him come off a bit needy and he tends to invade other's spaces.

There's more to lust than just sex though, it's pure, unrestrained desire. Desire to learn, to hurt, to take revenge, to love and be loved. He can sense someone's deepest desires and loves to bring that to the surface.

This is why Satan is one of his favorite brothers, there's a lot of pure emotion in him that he keeps covered up.

I think a Siren would fit him best, able to draw out what people desire the most.

~Beelzebub~

Beel has a soft heart. He cares a lot for his family, even when he's mad at them.

His kindness has gotten other demons trying to take advantage of him, which is why he tries to hide it behind a facade of being a big brute.

He's a cuddler. Beel is touch starved and wants nothing more than just to hold someone close and know they love him.

Nightmares are a constant struggle for him. He still blames himself for Lilith's death and not being strong enough.

Unless Belphie is around, Beel has a hard time sleeping.

Like Mammon, Beel a pacifist, though he's usually a little more willing to throw his weight around when needed.

When Lucifer isn't around, Beel is the one to try and get his brother's on the same page. If it's a lost cause he'll just leave for some comfort food.

Unless it's a serious matter, in which case it'll be one of the few occasions he yells.

Is self conscious about the food he eats and how everyone sees him as just the big grunt who loves to eat.

Beel is basically a pitbull. He seems scary and dangerous on the outside, but really he's just a teddy bear.

~Belphagor (spoilers)~

(I'm still a little salty that Belphie here killed me. Just as a warning lol)

Belphie's powers include sleeplessness and inducing a weekend nap. He either never sleeps or is sleeping for several hours.

I don't know why but I'm betting he'd be good at Uno.

Hates being confronted by his mistakes, would rather pretend they didn't happen in the first place

Asks for piggie back rides from Beel when he's too tired to walk.

He's the only one who can get Beel to sleep without nightmares. No one is quite sure if that's cause of his powers, or if he just is good at comforting his brother.

I see him as being good at poems. Soothing words that have a rhythm to them. You listen to him speak and before you know it you're asleep.

He brushes off most kindness as fake and doesn't trust anyone.

The most comfortable hoodie. Hugs are warm and soft.

Animal: a small fluffy cow. You know the ones I'm talking about. Fluff central.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me headcannons #headcannons #obey me satan #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #personal headcannon

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olivinesea · 3 years

Text

Satellite

a/n: Ask and ye shall receive I suppose. Here’s some more college Hotchniss nonsense. Still no plot (I promise I’m trying to think of something) and less angsty (I’m sorry, I know we love it). Also, exactly no one cares about this but the title is a big RIP to one of my favorite venues ever. ~2.3k

Hotch’s first concert.

He was not happy. Everything about this situation was the opposite of what he would normally choose to do. He deeply regretted ever making the deal that had landed him lurking in an alley, waiting for “he’s actually a nice guy” Sal to open the side door. He did not like Sal. He did not like the hungry way he looked down at Emily as she flashed her sauciest grin. He did not like Sal’s frowning dismissal of him when Emily had grabbed his hand to indicate she’d need a plus one tonight. Sal had told her to meet him at the side door—the bosses were in tonight and they didn’t appreciate their bouncer letting underage kids waltz in the front door.

Now they had been waiting by the rusty metal door for well over fifteen minutes. Emily was trying to hide her shivers, unwilling to admit she would have been better off with a jacket like he’d suggested. He let her think she was doing a good job of it, reserving his moment of gloating for the inevitable crumbling of this plan. He looked pointedly at his watch, which she loved to make fun of him for wearing. She raised her chin stubbornly.

“He’ll be here soon.”

Hotch didn’t respond, only raised an eyebrow at her. Surely she must realize the reason Sal had been letting her sneak into shows in the past was compromised by his presence. She scowled at him and crossed her arms tighter. He would offer her his sweater. He wanted to offer it. But he had learned quickly that Emily Prentiss was completely unwilling to admit being wrong. Goosebumps and frozen fingers be damned.

He was mentally preparing an argument that would let her save face while also getting them headed back to the dorms, which they never should have left on Wednesday night. There was a screech as the metal door finally wrenched open. He was glad she’d been staring hard at the entrance and therefore missed the shameful way he jumped at the unexpected sound.

Sal had decided it was still worth it to him to let them in. He subscribed to the numbers game philosophy and saw no reason to write off this number just because she turned up with an unwelcome attachment. Girls like that never stayed attached too long. He could be patient a little longer provided she didn't make a habit of wanting extra favors.

Emily turned to Hotch, her expression that of a cat smugly sitting on clean laundry. He almost laughed. He may not have wanted to be there but he was happy she was happy. It was a curiously simple emotion. One he never expected to feel for this girl who stumbled into his life only a few months ago. She grabbed his hand and excitedly dragged him to the open door. He pulled himself up as tall as he could and gave Sal a meaningful scowl as they passed by. They were almost the same height but the older man laughed at him. Hotch could feel the hair on the back of his neck stand on end as his muscles tensed but Emily was already pulling him into the building. She was too eager to notice the exchange and he was happy enough to let it go. He just hoped there would be no more of Sal tonight.

They entered what appeared to be a small lobby with a bar and fair number of people moving about. He was confused because he didn’t see any kind of stage but didn’t have time to ask. Instead he had to speed up to follow Emily, who dropped his hand and was weaving through the crowd, intent on some unknown destination. He was a little uncomfortable about how narrow some of the gaps she led him through were. He even brushed against several strangers, quickly apologizing before realizing that no one seemed to notice.

They reached another doorway in the opposite corner. It was darker on the far side and as much as he disliked this room with all the disorganized people, he didn’t know if he wanted to find out what was waiting for him beyond it. At least in this room there was a reasonable amount of light. At least in this room he could see the exit. She didn’t give him a choice, her dark hair swinging as she disappeared around a corner. He kept moving after the briefest hesitation. He didn’t want to lose her.

It turned out, to his horror, that the doorway led to a set of stairs. It only got darker and louder as they descended. He could feel the air pressing close and warm, the air of enclosed spaces with not enough room and too many bodies. She led him deeper into the crowd, toward a small stage cluttered with cords and mic stands. The stage was home to a trio of scraggly looking people that may or may not have been moaning in pain. He gave up on trying to avoid contact and instead hunched his shoulders protectively inwards. He hated everything about this. He was about to put a stop to it, to bail on this misadventure whether or not she thought less of him for it. Without warning she stopped and spun to face him. The smile on her face melted his resolve. He wondered if he’d ever seen a person this happy. It was certainly his first time seeing her smile like that.

She said something but he couldn't hear it. She pulled him down by his collar until she could yell in his ear.

“This is close enough for now.”

He wondered at the “for now” part of that statement but was satisfied to have stopped moving. Something knocked into him from behind and he felt something cold soaking into his shoulder. Alarmed he turned to see a man with a beer in his hand passing by. The man flashed a peace sign by way of apology before disappearing into the crowd. When he turned back to Emily his eyes were wide and indignant. She laughed mercilessly at the expression on his face. With the tips of his fingers, he pulled at the wet patch on his shoulder, his stomach turning in distaste. Abruptly her hands tugged at the hem of his sweater. She was trying to pull it up over his head. He struggled against the motion, everything about this place putting his nerves on high alert. She stepped back, eyeing his thrashing.

“It’s too hot in here!” She had to yell for him to hear.

His face remained blankly uncomprehending, blood busy rushing to his limbs to prepare for a quick escape. She mimed taking off a sweater and gestured at him. He felt foolish for not realizing and quickly shed the item. She wasn’t wrong. Though it was still too warm, he no longer felt like he might suffocate. He scanned the crowd around them and saw that they had a little more elbow room than before. People were mostly concentrated in groups of two or three, only half paying attention to whatever was happening on stage. She snatched the sweater out of his hands and wrapped it around his waist. He closed his eyes and for the hundredth time questioned the wisdom of becoming friends with someone with absolutely no boundaries. She tied the sleeves in place and laughed at him again when she appraised at her work. He made a face at her but appreciated that he wouldn’t have to hold something all night.

The questionable sounds from the stage stopped and things quieted down for a moment. Some house speakers turned on as the band started clearing the stage. The lighting got a little brighter, though it remained murky like pond water. He looked at her, perplexed.

“Is it over?” He tried not to hope too much.

She shook her head, a sly smile playing across her face. “That was just the opener. They’re not very good, are they?”

He looked at her, exasperated. It was already 11 o’clock. He could barely get her to their 8 am class under normal circumstances.

“Don’t worry, dad. Main act is next. I’m sure they’ll be out soon. Just relax.”

He scowled. He hated when she called him dad and he sincerely doubted he would ever feel relaxed trapped underground with a lunatic. He looked around again, mostly searching for the closest exit. He was coming to the unpleasant conclusion that the stairs they came down are also the only way out. She shoved a water bottle in his hand and without thinking about it, he took a swig. He almost choked on the vicious burn of warm vodka. He glared at her, eyebrows drawn together as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

“What the fuck Emily.”

The smell of it settled unpleasantly in his sinuses and he rubbed his nose, hoping it would dissipate. She shrugged and took the bottle back quickly.

“Try to be a little less obvious, nerd.”

He rolled his eyes. Of course she thought he was the one causing a problem here. She drank from the water bottle, her only reaction a small frown as she swallowed.

“Where did you even have that?” he hissed. Her short skirt and crop top didn’t provide a lot of hiding places.

“You don’t want to know.”

He shook his head when she tried to offer it to him again. So she finished off the liquor, whistling through her teeth after the last gulp. He was about to fuss at her—for the drinking, for the late night, for the literally unsafe conditions they were in, but she had turned all her attention up front. The lights had gone down—somehow darker than before, he thought—and the whole crowd had gone silent. He could just make out silhouettes of the musicians taking their places on stage.

A spotlight came up on the singer, center stage and the crowd cheered. Her eyes reflected the light menacingly and she had a smile like a dagger. He wondered if she inspired fear in everyone there, and, if so, why they seemed to enjoy it. She started singing and he was as entranced as the rest of them. A cappella at first, she drew the crowd into her. They swayed gently like a sea of charmed snakes. Just as he felt he might float away on her melody, the drums crashed in and the spell was released. Everyone was jumping and flailing to the driving guitar and percussion. The singer’s voice was still beautiful, but in the same way a broken window was beautiful, shattered glass sprayed across the ground.

The abrupt shift immobilized him until Emily grabbed both his hands and pulled him towards her. She was laughing and singing and showed no trace of the shadows that always seem to be weighing her down. Tonight she was completely without stress or guilt. She was free inside this confined space in a way he didn't think he had ever experienced himself. She wanted him to feel it too and folded him into a tight embrace, just for a moment, pressing her elation into his chest. She broke away and began dancing with the crowd, hoping to lead by example. It must have worked because he could feel the tension inside him uncurling.

He caught her hand, initiating contact for the first time. With smooth, practiced movements he pulled her into a spin. She shrieked but he could hear her calling, “Again! Again!” He smiled, happy to oblige, barely sparing a thought for the contrast between the stiff, brightly lit auditorium where he learned this skill and this chaotic dance floor. He had never appreciated those awkward lessons, they required too much contact, too much presence. No one wanted to dance with the 15-year-old loner with the bad temper and holes in his shoes. Even if they had, high school bodies, still awkward and mismanaged, did not make for the best dance partners.

But Emily, she flew, directed by the smallest touch. He closed his eyes and leaned back slightly to counter-balance the speed at which she was spinning away. They might be the only people on earth and he was fine with that. The song ended and she collapsed into him, slightly out of breath and grinning. She started to ask him a question but the next song started and she yelped. It was a favorite. She turned back to the stage and he let her go, just enjoying the way she moved without inhibition. He would join her again in a moment but he needed a little time to hold this feeling close.

By the time it was over they were both sweaty and a little gritty. They were swept up and out with the rest of the crowd. He was mildly disturbed by the press of bodies in the stairwell but they quickly found themselves exiting the building. The night air was frigid after the sauna they’d been marinating in for the last few hours. He insisted that she wear his sweater on their walk home, refusing to acknowledge the way she grumbled. They walked quietly, both still in awe of the experience. His heart was so full but he wasn’t sure how to tell her. He settled on something simple.

“I had a good time.”

“Hmm?” She was deep in thought and didn’t catch his mumbled words.

He clears his throat. “I said I had a good time.”

“Of course you did. I told you you would.” She was flip as ever.

He exhales through his nose and shakes his head. He supposed it probably didn’t matter all that much but he’d still like her to know he was being sincere.

She linked her arm through his, pressing against his side.

“Thank you,” she said quietly. She sounded serious, no longer teasing him.

“For what?”

“For trusting me.”

#criminal minds #aaron hotchner #emily prentiss #college hotchniss #fanfiction

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anika-ann · 4 years

Text

WINSoD - Pt.2

We Move Together...

Type: series, soulmate AU series (part 1, part 2, part 3)

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader Word count: 2400

Summary: In which Steve might get a bit tipsy and jealous in a sweet way.

A/N: As adertised, What I’d Never Say or Do (Had I Been in My Right Mind) is only refered to as WINSoD. Also - enter Age of Ultron ;)

Warnings: mention of superntural creatures, alcohol, language, briefest mention of death, journalists acting like jerks

Part 1 (previous chapter)

༻༺༻༺༻ღ༺༻༺༻༺

The press conference was a thing from nightmares. You did not enjoy all the flashes of cameras; you were not Tony freaking Stark, all charming and witty when over a hundred reporters stumbled through the doorway of the huge conference room. No, you could only manage to be sassy and fun within a circle of your friends. Which you found yourself in anyway, but boy, the presence of the others was still very much apparent and they were the ones asking questions.

Even Bruce had been forced to come, much to his dismay, but him and Clint were for some reason left out when it came to the poisonous questions, their duo considered only unwilling participants of the whole plotting for and against the poor soulmate pair of you and Steve.

You truly envied Thor who was off to Asgard once more. And while you wouldn’t want to be in Bucky’s shoes, you sure as hell wished you could sit this one out as he did, the public still not aware of his existence safe for one priest who had helped him to find his way to Steve.

It was ridiculous. The tone a question was asked with was enough to distinguish whether it was aimed at you and Steve or at someone else. Hell, when it came to you and Steve, they didn’t even bother asking, just stating the facts instead.

“Such a long recovery. That must have been horrible, especially with amnesia involved, wasn’t it.” (Yes, shockingly. What is it to you, huh?)

“Such luck you were able to remember, isn’t it.” (Luck had nothing to do with it. God’s sister has.)

“You must be angry with Captain’s team too, aren’t you.” (No, they are the best, you idiot, this whole thing is a stupid lie.)

“I am sure you’re willing to share your story since people were grieving for you in such a worship-like way…” (…fuck you.)

In reality, you tried to word your indignation towards this herd-like aggressivity aimed at the Avengers and the blatant pity for you rather carefully, speaking of hardship but justified, and yes, you were very lucky indeed. They didn’t need to know just how much.

Steve received a pretty similar set of questions, but they were more of anger and questioning whether the team was still able to function after such a betrayal that nearly ended up tragically. Steve was surprisingly convincing in his act of a disappointed teammate and friend and expressed hope that they would be able to continue to exist and cooperate, his team slowly earning his trust back.

“Have the outcome had been different, my reaction would be too. But the love of my life is here with me and that is what matters. I cannot begin to say how lucky I am to have her back and I thank God for that every day.”

You bit your cheek so you wouldn’t laugh at the private joke and smiled at him instead, earning a whispering wave of ‘awww’ from the crowd and a blinding mess of camera flashes when you gathered the courage to lean in and kiss Steve’s cheek chastely. The reporters went absolutely nuts.

Tony and Natasha on the other hand had to face the stoning. Seriously, there were being personally attacked, questions dripping venom. But they clearly had more experience and knew how to answer without the cunning reporters being able to twist their words into something else, much to the vultures’ dislike and annoyance. Duo Stark-Romanoff fought back and very effectively.

It filled your chest with pride, having friends capable in so many ways. They were so freaking badass.

It made the whole experience more bearable; that and Steve’s hand always touching you, grounding you and reminding you that never ever he would let you face the wolves alone.

༻༺༻༺༻ღ༺༻༺༻༺

You all knew that a public apology and trying your best to deal with the press somehow wouldn’t be enough. Well, you had hoped it would, but hadn’t quite believed, expecting to have to more in near future.

You were right, of course, which was why you were currently dressed up (or dolled up, as Steve loved to say, because you were his doll, after all) and forcing yourself to leave the elevator once it would stop, with Steve by your side.

“It’s gonna be alright,” he coaxed, knuckles brushing your cheek tenderly, planting a soft kiss to your temple, too worried about smudging your lipstick despite Natasha’s earlier reassurance that it wouldn’t smudge under any circumstances as she had thoroughly tested.

You tried not to think about that kind of testing and clearly Steve felt the same.

Instead, you gazed into the cerulean blue with a drop of green of his eyes, not convinced. He was being sweet and all, which you appreciated, but in reality, he had no way of knowing it would be alright. Mostly because Tony went all the way and invited all the important people who could influence the public opinion as much as rising stars of whom he felt could influence the public in the near future.

So next to a senator and a group of big-shot businessmen, there would hang out a pair of lawyers sticking for the little guy and right next to a supermodel, there would be a girl starting a new food bank. Thinking about it, it was a funny parallel to Steve and you by his side, except you weren’t doing any good, unlike them. Not that you would say that out loud.

To be fair, the Avengers decided to spice thing up a little by revealing Bucky Barnes being alive, very slowly leaking his story of a brainwashed soldier. Funnily enough, in a shadow of your big reveal, his own went rather quietly.

People were so freakin’ weird.

“I guess I’m gonna survive…” you murmured, ignoring the icy shiver that ran up your spine at your choice of words. Steve’s gaze seemed to turn distant for a moment before coming back to you, some of the strength he had been trying to project into you disappearing in the wind because of the painful memory. “Sorry. That was-“

The emotion no doubt twisting his gut caused his inhibitions to fly out of the window and his lips captured yours in a searing kiss that took your breath away. You melted against his muscular frame that seemed to engulf you completely, his calloused fingers grabbing onto your bare shoulders, digging in a bit deeper than necessary.

Your head was spinning with the passion displayed so openly and in the back of your mind, you registered that the elevator stopped, but before you could get to the idea of thanking Tony’s AI, your brain got side-tracked when Steve shamelessly licked into your mouth and backed you into the railing by the wall.

Feeling the familiar heat pool in your lower abdomen, sending sizzling heat through your veins, you instinctively gripped the lapels of his suit jacket when his lips retreated to give you a chance to breathe in.

Who needed breathing anyway?

He grinned against your mouth, the little shit he was, and one of his hands guided your head to a tilt for better access. You most definitely whimpered at that as his body trapped you against the wall completely, not leaving an inch in between.

Feeling him this close would never get old and you thought you might burst by the time his mouth moved to your left ear, keeping you in place while his hand moved from your shoulder to trace the line of your dress, slipping between the high slit of your dress to caress your thigh.

“Watch your mouth, doll. Or I’m gonna have to do exactly this to shut you up every time you don’t,” he whispered and your ragged breath caught in your throat when the perfect comeback popped in your head – a reasonable one, surprisingly enough.

“I bet the press would love that.”

His fingers flexed on your leg and his teeth very carefully nibbled on the skin of your neck, causing your heart to skip a beat.

“Don’t care about the press,” he growled lowly, sighing as if in pain when he slowly pulled back, leaving you clutching the railing so you wouldn’t fall as your legs turned into an uncontrollable wobbly mass. Then, as if he wanted to ruin you completely before the night even started, his lips were graced by a soft smile, his eyes twinkling. “I care about you.”

“And you call me trouble…”

He had the nerve to wink at you and thank the AI for the stop he never explicitly asked for.

“My pleasure, Steve,” Jarvis hummed, sounding amused and self-satisfied.

Your soulmate gentlemanly offered you an elbow to lead you out of the cabin.

“Shall we, my lady?”

༻༺༻༺༻ღ༺༻༺༻༺

In all honesty, the party wasn’t that bad, mostly because it wasn’t just to celebrate your resurrection, but also retrieving a sceptre Thor’s brother had used during The Battle of New York.

You wouldn’t go as far as saying you enjoyed the evening greatly, but you had met several interesting people of which only few had weird questions regarding you; however, weird questions when showing up in public was an everyday occurrence.

You finally truly understood why Steve was happy you treated him like an equal (most of the time anyway).

Every single original male Avenger and Sam and Bucky made sure to dance with you as well as with Natasha and for a good measure, when the song got the right beat, your favourite redhead dragged you to the dance floor for a friendly dance; needless to say Natasha was much better at spontaneous dancing than you. Steve assured you about the opposite by a kiss and a rather filthy promise as soon as you shared your thoughts on your lacking skills with him.

Actually--- yes, you might even say you enjoyed the party very much, uncharacteristically for you, considering the insane number of people attending. The penthouse was way too full, but here you were, sipping on your third glass of champagne, listening to Thor’s colourful narrating regarding Asgardian battles. It wasn’t that you were interested in battles, no – it was the man himself creating suspense and gesturing wildly and making the whole clutch of listeners breathless.

“Careful with the admiring, doll,” Steve whispered to your ear, his arm sneaking around your waist out of nowhere, nearly making you jump out of your skin. “I might get jealous.”

Giddy from the alcohol, you turned your head and brushed his lips with yours.

“We did establish I’d marry Thor if you weren’t an option, didn’t we?” you teased lowly, catching the wink Thor sent your direction as if he heard you despite your hushed voice. It wasn’t flirtation; no, it felt more like mischief, as if he was being your wingman, which he excelled at apparently, because Steve might get little possessive if the grunt by your ear was anything to go by. “As if you didn’t know I only have eyes for you.”

“Just eyes?”

“Why, Captain, are you implying something?”

“Maybe.”

“Of course, my heart is yours as well,” you smirked at him, making his somehow annoyed and pleased at the same time. You leaned even closer. “And everything else.”

“Alright, but what about that hammer of yours? I mean, I saw people swinging around Captain’s shield – though not as skilfully – but no one uses your weapon. Why? Is it that heavy? Are you the only one strong enough to… keep it up?” one of the women asked, apparently more than a little tipsy, judging by her implication.

Gee, she had no inhibitions. Were you being like this now? You really hoped not…

“Well, my lady, that is a very complicated matter…” Thor started, clearly pleased by that question.

“Dance with me again,” sounded softly at your ear and your lips automatically curled up in a smile.

“Whatever makes you happy, my love.”

Steve grinned as he swiftly got rid of the glass in your hand and was already pulling you away by the time you noticed the envious or the amused stares of your companions.

“Green’s not a good colour on you, Steve,” you hummed incidentally, earning an actual pout. “This is adorable though. And I’m not gonna complain about you getting a bit handsy more often.”

“Trouble, doll.”

“I love you too.”

“I do love you. I’m sorry if I got annoying. It’s just… ugh. Thor. You got this look in your eyes and I just-”

Oh.

You sometimes forgot Steve could be as self-conscious as you were. It made your heart ache and yet grow with fondness for your soulmate.

“No, Steve. I might get starry-eyed, because of course I do admire him. It’s easy to get captivated by his stories or his manners, just look at the crowd around him. But you… there’s something about you… that strikes me right here.” You tapped over your heart pointedly. “You know me through and through and yet here you are. You must know I’m yours and still – you treat me every day like you’re courting me and at the same time, we’re comfortable with each other and--- yeah, that. Thor is great. But you’re everything. You’re mine.”

“I’m yours,” he confirmed, brilliant eyes shining, the drops of Asgardian liquor he had consumed adding to the glow. “And you’re mine.”

“Meant to be…” you cooed, happily giving in to his lips when they found yours again for a short moment. You barely realized you stopped in your steps as the slow song had made you only sway. You whispered into his lips then, unbothered. “Plus, I bet you could lift that hammer and keep it up too if you tried.”

His rich laughter filled your ears and he spun you both in circle, planting a kiss on your forehead. You already planned on how you’d get him a custom-made mug with a little hammer on it, reading ‘I am worthy’ or something like that. You were sure he’d love it.

Yeah, it was an amazing party.

Here was a funny thing though; when you had already been confronted with the fact angels and God existed, you should have known blasphemy was a thing.

So, naturally, as you had said ‘I guess I’m gonna survive…’, you should have known there would be a thick chance that you wouldn’t.

That was the first thing that flew through your mind the moment something burst through a wall as if it was made paper thin and not metal.

The second thought? Oh shit.

༻༺༻༺༻ღ༺༻༺༻༺

Part 3

༻༺༻༺༻ღ༺༻༺༻༺

Thank you for reading!

Like I said, chapters of this fic will be less chronologically tight. Buuut, you’ll see ;) Also, sorry it took me so long.

#fanfiction #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers soulmate #soulmate au #steve rogers #captain america #captain america x you #captain america x reader #captain america imagine #steve rogers imagine #avengers #a:aou #mcu #marvel #captain america soulmate #winsod #anika ann

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ibijau · 3 years

Text

Deathbed Wedding pt3

Nie Huaisang meets with his friends, and gets to ask about certain rumours he's heard

Also on AO3

Even though he had probably left earlier than anyone else, Nie Huaisang was still late to reach the meeting point, and the last one to arrive. That, of course, was not exactly unusual. Wen Chao looked as annoyed as ever about it.

"You didn't bring anyone?" Wen Chao snapped at him in lieu of greeting. "What's even the point of inviting you if you don't also bring some competent people with you?"

"Some other business came up," Nie Huaisang lied. "The others had to stay behind to take care of it, but I asked to still come here. I didn't want to disrespect you."

"I wouldn't even have noticed your absence," Wen Chao retorted.

Nie Huaisang only smiled politely. They both knew that was a lie.

Wen Chao liked to organise grand Night Hunts for the young masters of other sects to join. With an older brother as talented as Wen Xu, it was an easy way for him to distinguish himself and make sure he didn’t fade into obscurity, which his personality wouldn’t have borne. Sadly, that same personality made it difficult for anyone to put up with him. To make it worse, there were a number of grudges on-going between the young masters of their generation, and while Wen Chao liked to boast he had the heirs of all the Great Sects coming to his Night Hunts, he lacked the diplomacy to make everyone really work together.

Meanwhile Nie Huaisang was desperately in need of joining every Night Hunt he could, and he had the skill of getting along with anyone, no matter how much he disliked them. Besides, living in an environment like Qinghe Nie had taught him early on how to deal with personal conflicts, and he was pretty good at stopping fights before they could start (or at making them worse if it suited him).

Unless Wen Chao wanted to deal with Wei Wuxian and Jin Zixuan's constant arguing, or with Jiang Cheng and Lan Wangji's silent feud, or with everyone’s dislike of him, then he needed Nie Huaisang at his damn Night Hunts.

And since Nie Huaisang was there at last, they could finally head out toward the location of the actual Night Hunt. Although he had many questions for Lan Wangji, and a few for Jiang Cheng as well, Nie Huaisang decided to fly next to Jin Zixuan. The conversations he needed to have with his other friends would likely have been too intense, and he wasn’t sure he could have mustered enough focus to continue flying his sabre at the same time, not when he was already a little tired. Jin Zixuan, thankfully, always appreciated a little silent companionship, and did not mind that Nie Huaisang barely said ten words to him the entire time.

It took them a good half day of flying to get where Wen Chao swore the monster they’re going to hunt has made its den. He refused to give them any details about the creature in question of course, because Wen Chao thrived on surprising people with his Night Hunts, even if it sometimes got a little dangerous as a result… but that was part of why they all came back. Wen Chao was a prick, but he always organised such good Night Hunts.

This one wasn’t off to a great start though, with Wen Chao telling them they needed to start looking for a cave somewhere in the mountain they’d just reached. It was unlike him to not know more precisely where the creature they were after had made its den, but he hyped it so well that nobody really minded. Nie Huaisang personally would have loved to rest a little first, but since nobody else seemed tired, he simply couldn’t start complaining. It was a good way to work on his endurance, he decided.

As everyone divided in small groups to look for that cave, Nie Huaisang dumped Jin Zixuan who he’d been flying with, and went to join Lan Wangji, Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng.

“Can I search with you?” he asked innocently, trying to match their fast walking pace. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen any of you, so I thought we could catch up.”

“You saw us not two months ago,” Wei Wuxian retorted with a grin. “How are your ribs, by the way?”

Nie Huaisang pouted as he fell in step with them, and patted the right side of his body.

“They healed quite nicely, and da-ge never realised they were cracked instead of just bruised.”

Of course, Nie Mingjue had still scolded him a lot, even for what he’d thought to be only a minor injury. Which was very unfair, even Jiang Cheng had said it had been bad luck that day, and Jiang Cheng never said anything nice if he didn’t mean it.

Lan Wangji, who in some respects was a lot like Nie Mingjue, slowed down and frowned upon hearing of that injury.

“Nie gongzi was hurt?” he asked. The ‘again’ was left out, but so heavily implied that Nie Huaisang still heard it.

“Just a little, nothing to worry about,” Nie Huaisang replied with a bright smile. “I’m doing better and better on those Night Hunts, and everyone gets a little bruised here and there, especially at first. It’s all very normal.”

Lan Wangji’s frown deepened, and Nie Huaisang thought it better to quickly breach the subject that actually interested him before he had to deal with a lecture on safety. He hadn’t left his brother’s home just to be bothered by his friends as well.

“So, Wangji-xiong, how is your brother these days?”

Immediately, the atmosphere changed. Lan Wangji’s expression hardened, while Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian exchanged a nervous glance. Nie Huaisang noticed it, and forced himself to continue smiling as if he couldn’t see it.

“I do hope he’s well,” he said lightly. “And your uncle too. Your father as well, I suppose,” he added with a small laugh. “I haven’t had much news from Gusu lately, how sad. Won’t you tell me what’s happening in the Cloud Recesses?”

The other three boys tense further, avoiding his eyes. Nie Huaisang felt his cheeks start to hurt from the effort of keeping his smile on, but he refused to break. He refused to ask if the rumours were really true.

He didn’t need to ask when their faces said it all.

He didn’t want to ask, but he wanted to hear the answer anyway.

“Nie-xiong, don’t play that game,” Wei Wuxian snapped, poking him in the side, eliciting a slight grimace. His ribs were almost fully healed, but still a little sensitive. “You know it’s annoying when you pretend not to know things. You’ve heard already, haven’t you?”

“Only fools listen to gossip, Wei-xiong,” Nie Huaisang, fighting the impulse to take out a fan to comfort himself. “What am I supposed to know?”

Wei Wuxian, in a rare moment of good sense, bit his lip to stay silent. He looked at Jiang Cheng, even more uneasy than himself, then at Lan Wangji, who was visibly uncomfortable as well.

It was Lan Wangji who broke first. Gusu Lan’s rules demanded honesty, after all.

“Father has been going to Lotus Piers recently,” he announced. “There is discussion of an engagement between xiongzhang and Jiang guniang.”

Nie Huaisang stumbled against a tree root and would have fallen face first if Jiang Cheng hadn't caught him.

Even if rumours had reached him, to hear it said so plainly from Lan Wangji was more than he truly felt really to handle. It shouldn’t have surprised him though.

Back then, Qingheng-Jun had made it clear that he wasn’t willing to let his sons marry just anyone. Ideally he preferred for them to have a spouse who would bear them children (which almost had made Nie Huaisang laugh when he’d heard it: Lan Xichen might agree out of duty, but good luck getting Lan Wangji to obey). He was not entirely opposed to a sterile union though, as long as that spouse agreed to the presence of concubines to continue the line (Nie Huaisang and Lan Xichen, who had already discussed the issue before even asking for that engagement, had already figured it would be required).

The real problem though, the issue that had been a deal-breaker for Qingheng-Jun when Nie Mingjue had approached him on behalf of his half-brother, was that he believed his sons should only marry someone of great cultivation skill, as he was convinced that an unbalanced match could only lead to trouble down the line.

Nie Mingjue had argued that it would be a good political alliance, that Nie Huaisang brought other skills to the table, that the two young people had been deeply in love for close to two years at that point, but none of it had mattered. Qingheng-Jun had rejected the engagement, because Nie Huaisang just wasn’t good enough.

For months now Nie Huaisang, furious and humiliated that the qualities he did have were overlooked, had worked hard to improve himself and show Qingheng-Jun that he was worthy of Lan Xichen. He was getting there, he knew he was getting there, if only he could get a little more time, a few more Night Hunts, another couple of chances to prove that he could be a real cultivator when he just bothered...

“It’s nothing certain yet,” Jiang Cheng remarked when Nie Huaisang remained silent for too long. “My mother is interested, but my father is saying he didn’t break off the engagement with Jin Zixuan just to push my sister in the arms of another boy who wouldn’t favour her.”

“Xiongzhang is unwilling,” Lan Wangji agreed. “There have been arguments. Xiongzhang raised his voice against father.”

Nie Huaisang managed a weak smile. Lan Xichen wasn’t the sort to stand up against his elders, least of all against a father who rarely meddled in his sons’ lives but expected total obedience when he did. This situation was less than ideal, but Nie Huaisang felt a twisted sort of joy upon hearing that in his own way, Lan Xichen too was fighting for their future.

Still, even if negotiations with the Jiangs didn’t work out in the end, it was clear now that Qingheng-Jun was looking to marry his son, and there would be plenty of candidates. Nie Huaisang really needed to step up and do something extraordinary, and he needed to do it soon.

“Let's keep looking for that cave,” he said, a new spring in his step. “I don't want Wen Chao to find it first, you know he's just going to be insufferable if he does!”

The other three agreed, and redoubled their efforts, though they also all kept an eye on Nie Huaisang who, for once, didn't notice it. He had bigger things to worry about.

That monster Wen Chao had promised them had better be something truly legendary, because Nie Huaisang had a father-in-law to convince.

#xisang #nie huaisang #lan xichen #lan wangji #wei wuxian #mdzs #jau writes #deathbed wedding au #drama! at the night hunt

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dancing-the-hellfire-rumba · 4 years

Text

Seen ✓ - 2

Pairing: Sam x Fem!Reader Warnings: light anxiety Word Count: 2.2k Series Summary: On her way home, Y/n finds an abandoned, cracked phone on the sidewalk. Anxious about the well-being of its owner, she picks it up and texts the first contact she finds; Sam. A/N: Chapter 2! Our pals are kicking it off already. Can you smell the chemistry? The rOMANCE? LESSGO

Pictures used in this chapter were found on google images :)

Beta: no one.

Catch up! : Part 1 Masterlist

Chapter 2: overthinker.

From: y/n_andrews85 To: D_impala67 Subject: I have your phone. That sounds creepy. I don’t think there’s a non-creepy way of writing this. Whatever.

Dear Dean, is it?

I just wanted to let you know I found your phone at the bus stop the other night. I wasn’t planning on holding on to it, really, but I got worried that you may have been in trouble, and then you never really looked for it either so, I don’t know, I figured better than someone who’ll snatch it and leave, you know?

Anyways, that’s why I’m emailing. I snooped through it a little, sorry, hopefully you’ll understand it was kinda necessary? Maybe we can arrange something so I can get it back to you. This girl, Jamie, keeps sending me (well you technically) topless photos of her. It’s not really what lights my candle. I’m assuming you’d like it back too.

I hope you’re safe. Looking forward to hearing back from you!

Y/n Andrews

Do you believe me now?

oh god

you didn’t

Sure did

wow. just wow.

you just handed his ass back to him holy shit!

last time he called, he said he dropped his phone while walking back to his motel, so

he’s okay.

That’s good, I’m glad he’s safe.

I was planning on including something along the lines of “This would’ve been easier if you were an active member of the 21st century and used social media”

But I figured the Jamie thing was motive enough?

yeah. topless Jamie? that’s something else.

Don’t be getting any ideas, dude, I don’t do nudes lmao.

oh god, no i didn’t think that

you did not just type lmao though. how old are you again?

oh god, you’re not 14 or something right? i don’t know what that would make me.

Don’t worry about it, I turned 16 last week.

…

are you serious?

Lmao, no, I’m kidding. I’m twenty-two.

But I think the word you’re looking for is a creep. Oh, and an ageist.

ouch.

Haha, I’m joking.

Lighten up, what are you, ninety?

hi pot meet kettle.

Shit I walked right into that one.

also i’d like to think i don’t text like a ninety-year-old man. could be wrong though

to answer your question i’m twenty-four.

Twenty-four huh? I assume you’re done with college, no?

Or- wait, I guess not everyone goes to college.

Yes, this is me fishing for information.

well… i kinda dropped out.

decided to go on a road trip with my brother.

things went a little south I ended up continuing the family business.

Damn, college drop-out ey? Where from?

Also, Family business? What do you do?

Is this too interview-y? I’m sorry, I don’t mean to snoop.

you’re good.

stanford. pre-law.

and my brother and i are private investigators. that’s why he’s not in Kansas with me. he’s working a case.

Daaaaamn. Stanford AND a lawyer? And now working as a PI? You’re pretty smart, then.

an ageist and a generalist? i didn’t take you for such y/n.

Fuck, okay, you sound like a lawyer too.

hahahah

so what about you?

What about me?

are you in college?

Oh yeah! Film school. My dream has always been to be a director. It’s rare to find someone who loves movies more than I do.

that’s really cool.

hey i’ve been meaning to ask.

Thinking of me, Sam?

…

Do tell.

how come you were walking home through a park in the middle of the night the other day?

Ooh, I was coming back from work.

I’m a bartender and I had a late shift on Friday.

oh I see. That makes sense yeah.

I’m sorry to cut this conversation short, but I’m legitimately three seconds away from falling asleep. I’m gonna hit the hay.

See you later, Sam :)

See you, y/n :)

A smile creeps on Y/n’s features at the thought of more conversations with Sam. He has given her something to look forward to, something to make her a little more excited during her boring every-day life. As she tucks herself in under her covers, eyelids heavy enough to droop involuntarily, the last thing she thinks of is him, the clever, sassy, twenty-four year old college dropout on the other side of the cracked phone screen. The overwhelming urge to get to know him overtakes her as she succumbs to sleep

Do you believe in ghosts?

that’s… random.

May be

why do you ask?

Idk, just wanna get to know you better.

that’s what you ask people you want to get to know better?

Yes?

Are you avoiding the question?

i do. believe in ghosts.

You?

So do i.

Well, sorta. I guess I believe in souls more than anything.

hm?

Well… I guess I hope (more than believe) that we are more than our corporeal selves.

In the sense that, it’s comforting to me that when we die, and our bodies stop working, we don’t evaporate.

I guess.

yeah I understand.

i don’t know. i guess i wanna believe in science more than anything but i know better.

How do you mean?

call it a hunch.

Oh c’mon, it’s gotta be more than that.

Sam…?

Y/n huffs out a breath, gnawing at her lip. She hopes her anxiety isn’t right, that Sam isn’t sick of her silly questions and existential dread, and is actually doing something. Perhaps his battery ran out.

...Sure.

She was doing something too, before she decided to text him. Eyes falling on all her books and notes, spread around her like ugly, depressing, anxiety-inducing flower petals. There’s a blanket over her legs, chilly fall weather seeping through her bones, and there’s a half empty pizza box in front of her. She’s full and the left overs are kept for her sister, Emily, who’s currently locked up in her room.

Damn it. Y/n is stressed and tired, and now her distraction is refusing to reply. This sucks. She hates the crawling, awful, gooey feeling of cold anxiety gripping every beat of her heart and stupidly convincing her he’s purposefully ghosting her, because he doesn’t like her.

Not knowing what to occupy herself with, she heads to take a shower. In the back of her head, she knows that she’ll probably not study any longer, so she takes it upon herself to sink under the hot water and wash thoroughly, trying to get her mind off Dean’s phone. When her feet step out of the shower and she has towel-dried herself as best as she can, she tosses her wet hair in a haphazard bun, and gets dressed.

Books stack under the rickety, stained coffee table, and she grabs her sketchbook, her favorite pencil, as well as her and Dean’s phone. She shoots Connor a text, arranging a hang out of some kind, and opens her little booklet, when a text vibrates Dean’s phone.

hey i’m sorry i got caught up in something.

It’s alright.

She doesn’t press the ghost subject, because he doesn’t seem into it and she really doesn’t wanna make him dislike her any more than he possibly already does.

The empty page of her sketchbook daunts her. With a tight grip on her mechanical pencil, she urges her creativity pumps to use some gasoline, but they seem limp and dead, and once more unwilling to help her. As her eyes fall on Dean’s phone, like a light bulb out of a cartoon, she gets an idea.

Hey, this might sound creepy, but what do you look like?

She stares at the phone. This feels like a risky question. God, if he wasn’t done with her before, he certainly must be now. But then, he surprises her.

why do you wanna know?

I’m in the mood to sketch some, and my creativity has officially left the building.

Care to help a girl out? Maybe your literary descriptions will spark something in me lmao.

i didn’t know you sketched.

Yeah, sometimes. Nothing great though, I promise. I’m certainly no Picasso.

i mean you don’t have to be picasso to sketch well. and you don’t have to sketch well to sketch at all.

Yeah, may be.

I don’t wanna pressure you into anything, you really don’t have to humor me.

If you do feel like it though, don’t send me a picture. Kinda wanna spark some life into my brain cells.

haha i will. only if you show me the finished product tho.

You’ve got yourself a deal :)

She simply cannot believe he has just agreed to this. Her breath is caught in her throat.

so.

what do you want me to start with?

Just whatever. Idk, tell me about your face.

well

i have brown curly-ish hair that reaches my ears. uh, my eyes are hazel.

Okay, that’s a start.

What’s your nose like?

it’s a bit pointy. thin i think?

Jawline?

sharp? i guess?

this is by far the weirdest thing i’ve done.

Lmao, yeah, this is pretty weird.

Exciting though.

She shouldn’t have said that. Fuck, that is definitely overeager.

yeah it is.

Her stomach feels floaty at his response.

Eyebrows?

normal?

How do you classify “normal” eyebrows, exactly?

i don’t know? they’re simple i guess.

Are you implying complicated eyebrows exist out there?

…

Elaborate, Sam. Are you shy? Do you not have eyebrows? Are they bushy? Or too thin? Or pointy?

i’m telling you they’re average.

Sam

what

You officially suck at this.

oh fuck off how would you describe yours?

Y/n proceeds to write a cohesive sentence that includes adjectives apart from “normal” and “average”. Words like bushy, thin, arched and curvy.

well shit yeah i guess i do suck at this.

i think it’s not a skill i mind not having.

That… is a confusing sentence.

just… draw them however. what difference can eyebrows make?

Oh you have no idea.

Okay, last thing.

Do you have a fringe?

yeah but not for long. i’ll probably let it grow out.

Okay, I can do something with that. Thanks :)

no problem

Her creativity is finally servicing her according to her commands, and Y/n puts pen to paper and scribbles messily. Line after line, they curl and sit on the page, forming a smile with thin lips, a sharp jaw, a pointy nose. She has to guess the eyebrows a bit, and the eyes are more cartoonish and generic than she likes. In the end, she gets anxious at the prospect of having to show him, and gives him a hood, so she won’t fuck up the hair.

Okay, I’m done.

that was quick, actually.

Well I didn’t have much to go on.

Sam doesn’t reply. She worries he might have misinterpreted her teasing tone.

Gimme a sec, I’ll send it over.

Ugh, Dean’s camera is such shit. Do you mind if I send it from my phone?

no go ahead.

[Y/n has sent a picture]

As you said, it didn’t take long. It’s really not the best.

that…

is actually not too far from the truth

it kind of looks like me from two years ago

wow, really?

yeah.

and it’s honestly a pretty good sketch. good job.

Thank you :)

Sam doesn’t say anything after this, and she huffs. Her head falls back on the couch, and she stares at the ceiling. She should go to bed soon, it’s getting late.

isn’t this strange?

Oh shit. Oh shit, oh shit oh shit, she thinks. He’s regretting this. He doesn’t like her. He’ll stop talking to her and that’ll be it.

Why does she care so much? It’s a thought that passes through her mind. It hasn’t been long since they started talking and, after the near-kidnapping encounter, they’ve been having nearly daily conversations, but that still doesn’t mean much. She knows barely anything about him.

She guesses, she wants to get to know him better. He seems like the type of guy she’d enjoy hanging out with and she has so far. Stopping any kind of conversation would surely feel like a loss. She’d have to go back to her boring routine. This is the most exciting thing she has allowed herself to do in years.

A part of her feels rather lame for finding such a thrill at something so trivial. She’s talking to a stranger, and that’s all it is, but the prospect that he could be anyone at all, and she’s never even seen his face… well… It feels refreshing, new. Scary in an adrenaline-rush kind of way.

What is?

us. texting.

isn’t it a little odd?

I guess it is a bit.

I mean we’ve only known each other for, what, a week? And a half?

yeah.

should we stop?

I don’t know

Do you want to?

The extra moment his reply takes to arrive makes her want to vomit.

Then there’s your answer.

okay then

can I save you in my contacts?

Sure, go ahead.

I just did too.

alright.

Okay :)

I’m sorry, I have to go.

I guess I’ll text you later, Sam.

Go be whoever Sam Something is.

it’s winchester.

Like the shotgun?

yup.

That’s BADASS. Can you even get more badass than this? Pre-law, now a PI, and you’re named after a shotgun? Damn dude.

Well, it’s nice to meet you Sam. I’m Y/n Andrews.

Haha thanks.

nice to meet you, too

goodnight Y/n Andrews.

Night Sam Winchester :)

--- Part 3

A/N: Thoughts? How are you liking the newer version of this? right after I post it, I’m gonna delete the other one.

Taglist:

Old Can You See The Stars taglist: @shutupiminlooove @sammysgirl1997 @kymberlytorres @bambi95-blog @demonic-meatball @thekarliwinchester @littlekay15 @li-m-ii @thinspo-isuppose @carryonmywaywarddemigodwitch @ellen-reincarnated1967 @moonlitskinwalker @marichromatic @illuminatus42 @lazy-author @mirandaaustin93 @hauntedsiriel @pilaxia @devilgirlsarah @nobodys-baby-now @captiveties @calamitychaos @midiocris @wordswillscream

Sam taglist @kymberlytorres @theboykingsam @depressed-moose-78 @andi-mendes-barnes @captainmarvelcorps @nerd-in-a-galaxy-far-away @nellachain

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lockedstuck · 3 years

Text

beyond our fury and our silences

2021, 04/17 - Sollux Captor

You envy the patients on the unit who have a “normal” to return to. You never have, and never will. You’ve had periods of more gentle oscillation, like high school as opposed to the jagged highs and equally disruptive lows of your undergraduate years. However, you haven’t been “normal” in terms of psychopathology since you were a kid.

Dr. Vandayar suggests that perhaps your childhood years did a number on your sanity, though not word for word. He’s way more polite about it. You kind of want to hit him for it.

Your dad did his absolute best to raise you, all seventy hour weeks to afford summer camp for gifted kids and SHSAT prep classes. So did your mother, teaching you math and history, even if she was psychotic, even when her mental landscape frequently shifted like sand on the beach.

Once, when you were maybe ten, she came home an hour late from a quick run to the grocery store five blocks away. She explained, gentle yet adamant, that people had decided to follow her home, and she did not want them to know where she was going. What if they’d decided to rob her? Your dad sighed. He pressed a kiss to her forehead.

She sat at the dining room table later, repeatedly drawing pictures of seashells. When you sat down next to her, and pulled your chair close so that you could see her work, she started to explain the Fibonacci sequence to you. It wasn’t hard to understand adding the sums of the two previous numbers together. She launched into another explanation of the not unrelated golden ratio, and you just sat there and let her go on for a while, even when you didn’t quite understand.

She took out a nautilus shell that she had fashioned into a necklace, showed it to you, and wound up giving it to you. When you asked her why, she smiled and shrugged. You continue to wear it underneath your clothing.

Perhaps you’ll give it to Feferi when she gets discharged, given her love of all things aquatic. At this rate, she’ll probably get out before you do, what with the nine ECT treatments you still have to complete.

Out of nowhere, Roxy walks over to you, and you glance up at her. You know by now that whatever comes out of her mouth will be either offensive, amusing, or both.

“Aradia’s on the phone for you, Lispy! Hey, could you tell her something for me?”

You stand up and stretch, fingertips toward the ceiling. “What is it?”

“Tell her that her voice is really cute, but that she’s way cuter in person,” she replies. “Wait, hold up. Tell me she’s not straight. Is she straight? I don’t want to make her uncomfortable.”

You don’t know whether or not to answer truthfully. You should probably ask Aradia about that beforehand. You walk over to the pay phone, and put the receiver to your mouth.

“Ray? Is that you?”

“Hey, Sollux,” she says. Then, a pause that stretches into infinity, or ten whole seconds at the very least. “Is it okay if I visit tonight instead of tomorrow? One of my students is actually attending my office hours, which--”

“--overlap with my visiting hours,” you finish. Maybe you should have let her complete her sentence.

You’re tetchy and impatient, the first thing having been induced by your session with Dr. Vandayar, and the second by the fact that next week will mark one whole month since you arrived at this hospital, and what precisely do you have to show for it?

Roxy’s almost completely weaned off methadone and will probably leave next week, to go to inpatient rehab. June is going home the Monday after next. Feferi got here the same day as you and will most certainly be gone the same week as June. Eridan will be gone before you finish out your ECT treatments, since his conclude next week, as will Karkat, Porrim, and probably even Calliope. The only person who may not leave before you is Latula, and although she’s perfectly kind, you don’t know her very well.

You didn’t realize how long you’ve stewed in your thoughts until you hear Aradia ask, “Are you still there?”

“Yeah. You said you wanted to come tonight as opposed to tomorrow. That’s fine.”

“And what about you?” she asks.

You shrug.

“What about me?”

“Are you fine?”

The only person you suck at lying to more than Aradia is your father, and your dad is only leading by a narrow margin. That may be why you signed a HIPPA release so that your treatment team could talk to both of them.

“I had a weird therapy session today. Normally I get along with my therapist, but today I almost wanted to punch him in the face.”

Aradia asks if you’d like to talk about it, and your kneejerk is to say, “hell no”, but during another therapy session a couple of days ago, Dr. Vandayar stressed the importance of not being unwilling to depend on one’s support team. As vaguely annoyed as you still are at him, you did concede the point on Monday afternoon.

“I guess it was because… well… fuck, I don’t know how to explain this without sounding like an asshole. He didn’t actually say anything that wasn’t true, but maybe it was the way he said it? I don’t know. I’m sorry, Ray, I’m rambling all over the fucking place.”

“Don’t worry about it. Go on.”

“He pretty much said that my situation with my parents could have contributed a lot to why I’m all fucked up in the head. Not currently, but like, before, when I was a kid. I was like, where exactly does this guy get off making that kind of judgment? And then I was like, dude, you weren’t there, you didn’t see it, so how do you know? ‘Cause my parents, they did the absolute best they could with what they had. I mean, I didn’t say that to him, but I felt it. And I felt angry at him about it.”

A long silence, one that you feel sink down to the pit of your stomach.

“Well.”

“Well, what?”

“I get that you’re upset, but Sollux, it’s not like this is something you’ve never said to me.”

“But Aradia, that’s different. I was there. So were you, for parts of it. You’ve met my parents a billion times. But aside from a few conversations with you and Baba, Dr. V barely knows anything about my life. For him to say it like that… I don’t like it. I don’t know why, but I don’t.”

“Because it seems like he’s judging people and events he hasn’t had the opportunity to witness first-hand.”

“Yes! Exactly! That’s it!”

It feels like an indictment against your family, and if you are anything to a fault, you are loyal to Mituna and your parents. All of them came together for you, the youngest, the most successful. Even being here, unable to provide for them both emotionally and financially, feels like the worst blow in the world.

You shouldn’t be here getting the memory zapped out of you in some last-ditch effort to quell your mania and depression. You should be outside working, seeing to the needs of someone besides yourself. You should be meeting Aradia at her apartment every other night, helping her clean out her apartment, which quickly devolves into chaos, ashtrays full of spent cigarette butts, and dishes piling up in the sink, as she scrambles to finish up her master’s thesis.

Because if there’s one thing you’ve learned from your father, it is that you are what you contribute, and being here, seemingly unable to contribute anything, might just be the worst sensation in the world.

You’re alone with yourself here, face to face with everything you hate about yourself, with all your aspirations and all your neuroses, and you hate it, you hate it, you hate it, you want out so badly. But what if they don’t let you leave and you end up at your mother’s worst fear - involuntary status? If four weeks of hospitalization seem like hell, what about sixty days, your fate handed down via court order?

What if that knee-jerk desire to 72 hour letter yourself away from thrice weekly therapy sessions is just another trap? What if you leave and try to slit your throat again? What if you actually succeed this time around? Who the fuck is going to take care of your family?

It all comes down to that.

You’d rather like to bang your head against the wall until you either make things clearer or knock yourself out.

“I’ll be there tonight, Sollux,” Aradia says, suddenly. Not for the first time, you wonder if she can read your mind and tell when you’re starting to decompensate more than usual.

Aradia gets there long before six o’ clock. In fact, you notice her tell-tale garnet-colored blazer, as you look through the small rectangular window in the door of the main unit, sometime around 5:20. A woman in a small black dress stands not far away from her, and once you notice her carefully coiffed blonde hair, you walk over to the women’s side of the unit and loudly knock on Roxy’s door.

“And what can I do for you?” she asks, removing the headphone radio that has all but been surgically attached to her head. “Do you have news about Aradia’s sexual orientation?”

You roll your eyes at her, more to keep up appearances than an actual rebuke.

“Your mom’s here,” you reply.

Roxy seems to consider this, then picks up her stuffed cat from her bed and pads into the hallway. Calliope waves at you, the light on their side of the room switched on so they can write. You wave back, then follow Roxy back to the main door of the unit, to resume your little vigil.

You stand without word or gesture, a good six feet away from the door so the night staff doesn’t bitch. They seem to have given up on Roxy, who stands only two feet away from the door and jumps up and down as she waves to her mom. Her mom waves back, though in a more sedate fashion than her child.

You rather like Ms. Lalonde, honestly. It’s hard to dislike a family member who comes so often. According to Roxy, she only misses Mondays for work related reasons. You think the only person who has her beat in terms of visiting is June’s dad, who has yet to miss a day of seeing his daughter, at least during your stay here.

After about ten minutes of furious waving, Roxy starts doing the YMCA with her arms. Her mother actually returns the motions.

Aradia glances at her, cracks up, and giggles helplessly, which makes you smile.

When they finally start letting visitors in, Aradia steps behind Ms. Lalonde without a word. Aradia signs the book after her, and then Mr. Egbert signs after that.

Maybe he smuggled a whole ass lemon meringue pie onto the unit. You’d probably kiss him if he did that, and you’re pretty sure macking on your friend’s hot dad is frowned upon in most situations.

Aradia walks into the unit, and it’s only a moment before you’ve scooped her up into your arms. You’re so skinny that Karkat calls you a walking skeleton comprised of caffeine and spite, and Aradia has more curves than a parametric equation. You still manage to pick her up so her toes momentarily leave the ground, pull her close, and kiss her forehead before you let her go.

She interlaces your fingers with hers.

“What table are we sitting at tonight?” she wants to know, gazing at the sea of round wooden tables in the dining room.

“The one by the window, in the corner,” you decide, after a moment’s thought. The chairs are heavy, so they can’t be thrown across the unit by angry patients you suppose, but you pull out your chair and sit down easily enough. It occurs to you that maybe you should have pulled hers out, but she gets the job done.

You sit right beside her, and before you can think on it, you let her pull you close. Your head on her shoulder, and your arm thrown around her back. It’s not the most comfortable position, but she smells like lilies, cocoa butter, cigarettes, and home.

You bring to mind all the animal skulls on her shelves, all the volumes of dead poets stacked haphazardly around them. Everything has been arranged to display her fixation on things that have shuffled off this mortal coil, for the exception of the flourishing plants on her terrace.

Her arms come up around your shoulders, and she scoots over so the position is more comfortable for your lanky ass. She presses a kiss to your temple, and then to the shell of your ear. You smile in spite of yourself.

It occurs to you that you have not had a self-loathing thought since she arrived.

It’s easier to not hate yourself when someone who would either try to refute or talk you through your issues sits beside you, singing softly.

“Tastes like strawberries on a summer evening. And it sounds just like a song...”

You snort. “I had no idea you were so fond of Harry Styles.”

She stops singing for the moment, but you’ve already started to hum the next part of the song, while she explains where she first heard it.

“My neighbor used to like to sit on her balcony and listen to the radio while I talked to my fig tree. It was on constant replay on Z100. And it’s catchy. So I sang it. A lot.”

You imagine Aradia as she sings, the long dark curls of her hair unpinned the way they usually are when she’s at home, moving along to the music as she waters her plants. It’s a nice mental image, the kind you wouldn’t mind getting lost in.

Here is one way you might safeguard yourself from the impulses and the dorco razor-blades.

You can’t watch Aradia bustle around her apartment if you’re not alive. You can’t help her, or your dad in their gardens - why do so many of your loved ones have an affinity for plants when you can barely keep a cactus alive - if you’re six feet under.

You also cannot remind her of her own neglected tasks - “Aradia, c’mon, you have to wash these dishes, there’s fuckin’ fruit flies here, I hate fruit flies.” - and then watch as she makes a meal with the newly washed dishes just so that she knows you’ve eaten that day.

You think she’d give an approving nod to your thoughts.

“Hey, Sollux,” she says. You glance at her face, the anxiety written across it.

That won’t do. You never liked seeing her worried about anything.

“Yeah, Ray? What’s going on?”

“When you get out of here, after all your treatments are finished, I was wondering…”

“Wondering what?”

She exhales slowly. She takes your hand in hers. You let the warmth suffuse through you.

“Would you like to move in with me? I know you need to be close to your family, but it’s just the F to the 7 train to get to Flushing.”

You consider this. You’ve known Aradia since the sixth grade, and you are now twenty-seven, which adds up to something like sixteen years of friendship. Aradia knows you like nobody else. Not even your father.

She’s handled your weird mood shit and chronic suicidality with more skill than some clinicians you’ve had. In return, you’ve kept her alive - her parents coddled her to a fault, and she had next to no idea how the world outside academia functioned - and helped her through her occasional bouts of clinical depression.

“You’ll take me to Essex Market and get me that bougie vegan cheese?” you ask.

There are more questions, several in fact, that you need answered before you give her a decision, but you’ll start with the inanities and work your way up to the logistics.

“When have I not?” she replies.

You snort.

“How much am I going to pay in rent, for one?”

Aradia seems to consider this for a moment.

“For now, nothing, since you’re not working, and I’m already covering my rent with my job,” she says. “But once you get a job, I’d like you to kick something in. Not too much.”

“Where would I even sleep?”

“The couch in the main room is a pullout. And even If you wanted to sleep in my room, I think I have enough space for another bed.”

You think it over, and some traitorous part of your brain bristles at what is essentially charity from her. Her family - comfortably upper middle class - must be helping her with rent. There is no way in hell that she scored a one bedroom near Bowery on her salary as an adjunct professor. You don’t know what they’d think of letting you live there, or maybe you do, and that’s why you’re hesitant to accept this. They’ve come to actually like you, but you’re not eager to test out how far that goes.

She must sense your hesitation. She once more interlaces her fingers with yours, and lets out a small sigh.

“At least think it over, Sollux.”

“You know I will.”

“I think we function better when we’re in the same place than when we’re not.”

You grin. “You know it.”

The other thing that gives you pause consists of your own confusing feelings about her.

Some days you want to kiss her senseless, peel her out of that red jacket, the black tank top, the long gray skirt. You want to see her, and only her. You want to shed your t-shirt and skinny jeans and have her see you. You want to hold her, press against her, and have her return the gesture. Your longing to be as close to her as humanly possible sweeps over you like a wave, and you have never been known for any particular skill at swimming.

Other days, you just want to sit next to her and make fun of her when she sings Watermelon Sugar. Or like the time she forgot her umbrella at home, a torrential downpour decided to strike and you had to run to the Second Avenue F train station and hope you got there in time to catch her. Still, more recently, the pair of you playing video games and swearing at each other with a giant container of mapo tofu between you. You want the easy rhythm of your close friendship, something familiar, and easy to navigate.

Most of all, you’re afraid. You’re afraid that if you take the plunge and alter the parameters of your relationship, that you’ll lose her entirely if things don’t pan out. And where the hell would you be without her?

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fckinev · 4 years

Text

Daddy Issues (draco malfoy x fem!reader)

*an itsy draco smut to please my dirty soul n get me used to writing on tumblr lol

summary - draco and y/n are at a gala with their parents. they’ve known each other for their entire lives and hate each other with a passion. tonight, they’re going to put that passion to good use...

warnings - implied alcohol, swear words, sex n degradation-y stuff (he calls u a bitch like one time isn’t that fun!)

word count - absolutely no idea but it’s kinda long lol

personal thoughts - trash, throw the whole thing away. also it’s mostly unedited but it’s the middle of the night and i just have to write this because hngngnhngnhnngh draco sexc*

Before she has even set foot in the venue, Y/N wants to leave. Double doors spreading across the front of the building allow people to step inside the too-large hall, laughter horsey and chatter hollow. The urge to hitch up her dress and run helter-skelter back down the winding gravel pathway is so strong it’s palpable to her mother, who keeps a hand clamped on her daughter’s shoulder. Her mother’s hands are clammy and Y/N is glad, because if she is being literally held here against her will, the person forcing her to stay can at least feel worried to go any closer to the mob than this.

“Best behaviour,” her mother reminds her, beginning to march toward the doors with false purpose, “And don’t complain about talking to other people. If someone asks you to dance, dance with them, and if they ask for your phone number, give it to them. You can’t continue to ruin our reputation.”

Y/N doesn’t need to verbalise her irritation; the eye roll so exaggerated she sees stars is a dead giveaway. Her mother tuts and the fingers on her skin practically pierce it.

“Don’t ruin tonight.” She releases Y/N to adjust her suit. She thinks it makes her look progressive, but she’s wrong - it gives her the same energy as Katie Hopkins. The very day her mother put on a suit, she knew she would never do the same thing. She would not Katie-Hopkins herself.

“I won’t,” she replies, but the lie is ignored in favour of greeting Lucius Malfoy, who stands just inside the gargantuan doors. Before Y/N was even born, the two families were close and they still are. She grew up knowing Lucius so - cold and unsettling though his demeanour is - his presence is a welcome familiarity in a sea of unease. Just because she isn’t sweating too, doesn’t mean Y/N isn’t just as nervous as her idiot mother. But she can’t feel completely grateful for his being there - where he is, Draco tends to be. And where Draco is, she wants to burn to the ground.

The glass Y/N presses to her lips is cool, deliciously freezing on her lips and fingers. She appreciates the chill while she drains its contents only the slam it on the bar without a second thought when finished. Per her mother’s words and glares, she has been peer-pressured into dance after dance with strangers at least twice her age and given her numbers to men old enough to be her grandfather all night and now, she thinks she might scream. She’s tired, she’s hot, her feet are blistering and she wants to go home. The bartender refills her glass with a pitying smile which she does not return, just knocks back the amber liquid and groans.

Someone sits on the seat beside her own and she glances at it, for no real reason other than curiosity. The man is slender but toned, which she can tell even through the all-black suit he wears. It’s well-cut and exudes wealth. His hands, veins prominent and enough to make any girl ruin their underwear even without all those rings, throw down a phone and an almost full glass of something red. Y/N is practically drooling, then she sees the face.

Draco.

Ew.

He doesn’t look back at her, pointedly ignoring the glare she is so carelessly aiming at him, just growls the name of a drink and downs it in one gulp. His ashen hair is a mess and his brow is furrowed, eyes staring deep into the empty glass in front of him. His muscles tense and untense in quick succession a few times before they settle with staying tensed; he’s the epitome of “I’m pissed off”. Y/N leans on her forearms, smirking just a little.

“What happened, loverboy?” She asks, faking concern so poorly it’s laughable.

Draco doesn’t laugh.

“Did you realise your dad is hotter than you? Is that it?” She suggests. When Draco’s scowl deepens and he ignores her, her smirk grows. This night has been hellish; if she can at least get a bit of a rise out of this twat she’ll be content.

“‘Nother one,” he demands, glaring daggers at the poor bartender. She refills his glass and he drinks it bitterly. Y/N leans further forward, knowing how little Draco likes having people invading his personal space, most of all her. Now, with barely a metre between them, she can smell the heavy musk of whatever cologne he’s wearing. It smells like sex and deception. It’s nice.

“Aww, someone really is feeling grumpy, huh? But seriously, has it hit you yet how hot your dad is? I mean, I’d fuck him.” Y/N teases delightedly. The only times she can ever remember smiling around Draco were when she was ridiculing him and right now, she is having the time of her life. Draco’s hands are twitching and his lip is curling in disgust.

“My father will hear about this.” He spits, glaring at Y/N for a hard second until she slides her hand over his arm and leans closer. There’s now less than half a metre separating the pair and when Draco shifts in his seat, Y/N can tell the lack of distance clearly doesn’t just affect her. A glance down confirms this.

“I want nothing less. In fact, make sure you bring it up as often as you can.” She suggests, Draco’s hands almost crushing his glass even more encouragement.

“If you keep talking like this, I’ll make sure you never speak again. Got it?” He finally snaps. Y/N’s face falls, then she matches his scowl. She drinks the remains of her last refill and the pair of them sit in buzzing silence, saying nothing and still so much. It’s not like it’s a secret that he hates her, but that reaction was more than unnecessary. It’s not her fault his dad is more fuckable.

A familiar and unwelcome hand falls onto Y/N’s shoulder, startling her for a moment before she realises who it is, and her mother starts speaking. “Finally, we’ve been looking everywhere for you both. You’re having fun? Yes?”

Her mother is asking out of courtesy and to impress Lucius, who looks utterly unimpressed and unsettlingly effervescent. Although Y/N’s mother spent over a week deciding which hideously updated suit she would wear to attend this gala, Lucius is effortlessly and deliciously upstaging her. The muted grungy tones and styling of Y/N’s mother’s outfit look tacky beside Lucius’. The families may be well acquainted, but only one of the two knows how to really use their money. Her mother seems to be aware of the fact because she is now wearing far less of the gaudy accessories she showed up in. Hate them all she wants, Y/N has to admit that the Malfoys truly have made her night turn from a complete shit show to only a mild inconvenience.

“How are you finding the gala, Y/N? Here only on Celene’s demands I don’t doubt.” Lucius states. He shakes his head at the very thought.

“Not at all, it’s all for a good cause and any excuse to meet new people is a valid one.” She replies, lying out of her ass. The smallest of approving smiles twitches Lucius’ lips and he nods.

“Well, good for you. I had to drag Draco here by his ears.”

Draco looks even more furious at this statement, colour blooming on his pale skin, and he stands up abruptly, practically sending his stool into his father.

“I’m going.”

He starts to storm off and Y/N shields a smile. Pussy.

“Oh no, you aren’t. Have you even asked Y/N if she wants to dance?” Lucius asks. His natural voice is chilly, but Y/N all but freezes over when he addresses Draco. She almost feels bad for him. But then again, he can be even colder to her; let the boy suffer.

“Here, Y/N, Draco,” Y/N’s mother says, yanking Y/N up by her arm, “Go dance together and stop sitting around like lemons.”

Y/N screws up her nose. “Lemons?” She repeats incredulously, ready to argue simply about that word (her night might have been improved a little, but not enough for her to be unwilling to start unnecessary arguments) until she sees her mother’s face, sharp and ready to yell at her even with all the people around. She keeps her mouth closed.

Mood now ruined, when Lucius glares Draco into offering out his hand, Y/N takes it with somehow even less enthusiasm, dragging her feet while they trudge to the dance floor. For all the grandeur and elegance of the clothes on the people around them, every single couple is shameless in their behaviour and it’s sickening to see so many middle-aged men and woman grinding and throwing it back. Bile rises in Y/N’s throat. She swallows it.

She assumes a half-hearted slow-dance position with Draco, her hands hanging off his shoulders and his limp on her waist. Neither one of them could be more clear in their dislike for one another, but Y/N’s weak swaying goes to some more rhythmic moving and mumbling when Crazy Girls by TOOPOOR (an unusual choice for a charity gala hosted for funding rehabilitation centres with mostly 40 years and over attendees) comes on. Draco watches her, still with that scowl on his face.

“Lighten up, Draco,” Y/N sighs, spinning herself around to press herself to him, trying to encourage him to do more, “So what if your dad is a DILF, it’s not that deep.”

That is somehow what makes him interact with her. He grabs her by her hips and holds her against him, gripping her so tightly she wonders if she’ll wake up with bruises. “What the fuck did I say?” He snarls into her ear, breath sending goosebumps all over her body. Her breath hitches, catching for a moment in her throat before she composes herself. So what if he’s hot, and his hands are somewhere they probably shouldn’t be, and she’s pressed against him, and can feel every inch of him...

She’s sure there was a point to that train of thought.

“No idea,” she lies, breathing out heavily. The song has changed to something slower and heavier and his hips guide hers. His movements are skilled, deliberate and she’s melting against him without meaning to, “But I’m sure if your dad had said it it would have sounded better.”

The press of his fingers deepen in the flesh of her hips, “Stop talking about my fucking dad or I’ll make you.”

“Oh yeah?” She replies weakly. Normally she would have something to say back, a quip or a cruel comment, but with the feeling of him behind her, the scent of him invading her senses and the low words he whispers to her, she’s putty in his hands.

“Yeah. Wanna keep talking about him, bitch?” His voice softens on the final word. They might dislike each other, but never have they used unkind names. When he says it now, it doesn’t feel unkind.

“He would probably like it if I did.” Y/N murmurs, still trying to get a rise out of Draco. Her attempt is a success; Draco growls and instantly starts dragging her to the back of the room, storming through the throng of densely-packed people like they aren’t even there. Y/N stumbles on the bottom of her dress but Draco just keeps pulling until they get to a bathroom, slamming her against the wall and closing his hand around her throat. He presses enough to make her feel it, but not enough to suffocate her. Her heart is racing and he can tell; he smirks.

“Come on, keep talking.” He prompts, pressing harder on Y/N’s neck.

She shakes her head and his lips meet hers, aggressive and demanding and so damn hot. His lips are soft and drowning her, tongue exploring her mouth without warning and making her moan a little when one of his hands go from her waist to her breast, massaging it and making her arch her back. His hands are magic on her, he knows what he’s doing and he’s doing it well.

Until he steps back.

Lips swollen and skin flushed, Y/N pants. Those few minutes of passion felt like seconds, but she’s so out of breath she may as well have run a marathon. Draco watches her catch her breath, eyes stormy with the promise of more, while he slowly takes off his blazer, then his shirt. Y/N can do nothing but watch, watch dark fabric be stripped back to expose soft, defined skin. His body is even better than she has thought it would be; her breathing grows shallow again and Draco smirks, stepping back toward her.

“You like what you see, huh? You think my dad looks this good?”

“Fuck, stop bringing up your dad.” Y/N breathes before capturing his lips in another violent kiss, running her hands over his skin. It’s as soft as her dress - probably softer - which reminds her that she’s still wearing it. Without detaching her lips from his, she inches the straps down her arms. Like he read her mind, Draco reaches behind her and unzips the back, looking down while he pulls the dress away. It’s cold in the bathroom without it and Y/N shivers. Draco looks back up, at her eyes for the first time she can ever remember. And he kisses her. Sweetly, kindly. It says that he’ll take care of her.

But the kiss was a lie, because he instantly grabs her hair and pulls, biting her exposed throat. His mouth strays lower, then he hooks his fingers around her panties and pulls them down, Y/N shakily undoing his belt and unzipping his trousers. Her whole body is shaking, breathing erratic and make-up probably a wreck, but she feels so good. She wishes she had pissed Draco off this much before.

“Up.” Draco growls and, when Y/N hesitates, picks her up by her thighs, fingers harsh and hard on her. She grips his shoulders and he shakes his hair out of his face before sliding inside her.

Fuck.

He’s so big she has to wonder if it’s even real, but when she looks down and watches him slowly disappear inside of her, she can do nothing but moan and drag her nails down his back. He grunts when he completely fills her, then slowly starts pulling out and pumping back in. Y/N’s whole body hums with the gold that now runs in her veins, honeyed curses falling into Draco’s skin while he digs his fingertips into her, pace getting really quick really fast. He puts his lips to her neck, to where his bites now mark her, and presses open-mouthed kisses to the sore skin in between sentences.

“Fuck, Y/N-”

“You feel so- good-”

“Oh, shit...”

“Look at you take it, you’re- you’re doing so well...”

Sweet phrases said in a growl that just make Y/N work harder to make him feel as good as she does, raking her hands through his hair and hazardously kissing whatever she can while he brutally thrusts into her, mercilessly fast when he realises she’s close to climaxing.

“Come on, Y/N,” he pants, biting her lip, “Wait for me, do it- together.”

She whines, throwing her head back. Draco raggedly chuckles before his face twists, still a vision of incomparable beauty. Y/N buries her face in his neck and he kisses the crown of her head without thought, encouraging her weakly. His thrusts are getting sloppy, uncoordinated; he’s close. She rolls her hips, making him moan, against him - the sooner he cums, the sooner she can.

“Draco, I-”

He wordlessly nods and she screams into his skin, awash with bliss and pleasure as her arousal soaks his cock. He grunts one last time, crushing Y/N’s thighs, and cums inside of her, filling her with his pleasure.

Y/N expects him to get dressed and go, act like what happened didn’t happen and would never be spoken about. But he doesn’t. He sits her on the closed toilet seat and cleans her, kissing where he was especially rough - with his hands or his lips - and smoothing his thumb over the already forming bruises.

“What do I tell my mum?” She whispers, letting him dress her because she knows she won’t be able to stay stood up long enough to do it herself. Draco turns her around and carefully zips the dress back up, slowly as though to savour touching her skin. He places a butterfly kiss at the nape of her neck.

“Just wear turtlenecks. I’ll call you a cab.” He says, buttoning up his shirt again. Y/N nods and he looks at her quickly, noting her sadness. “I’ll be in it too.”

Y/N smiles, avoiding looking at him directly when she does. Even after that, it feels bizarre to genuinely smile at Draco.

But when she turns her gaze back to him, he’s smiling. Properly, kindly smiling.

She smiles back.

#harry potter #draco malfoy #draco x y/n #draco fanfiction #draco fic #reader insert #fanfic #smut #harry potter smut #draco smut

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enigmainvestigations · 4 years

Text

Character list

This is going to be a brief breakdown of Ed’s relationships with the other characters in Gotham mostly from his Riddler days. This is from his perspective, theirs are mostly still open (besides the ones that I explain here). Also, these relations can change over time which many of them will. Please note- This list is for those who are curious, and for writers who might need some inspiration in the case a character comes up in their writing and they get stuck. You don’t have to reference this, these are just my current ideas on these character relations.

Heroes:

Batman- HATE. I’ve gone over this already in his bio, but I’ll use this to explain some things from Batman’s perspective. At first Batman saw Ed as someone unable to control their compulsive behavior, and thought Eddie just needed some intervention. However, as the years went by and he began to be the focus of Ed’s schemes he started to see him as a cunning, intelligent, and very dangerous criminal. Especially when it became clear to him that Ed had no regard for others, and Ed’s plans regularly put other’s lives and well being at risk. He knows that Ed’s intelligence and his ability to process and retain knowledge is extremely high, and he worries that Ed’s intellect might surpass his at some point. Ed’s motives were always rather simplistic even if his methods weren’t, but Batman saw his potential and believed if Ed truly applied himself he could become much too dangerous. Because of this he handled Eddie very specifically. He would normally take on the Riddler on his own in hopes of controlling their interactions, and keep himself as the main focus of Ed’s ire. Nightwing- Greatly dislikes. From his time as Robin being a bratty teen with a smart mouth, Ed sees him as an annoyance despite only having brief encounters with him through the years. Oracle- Ed has no idea Oracle is the previous Batgirl, but he REALLY dislikes her. Since Batman doesn’t really control Batgirl he’s had more interactions with her than the Robins. He’s been on the receiving end of too many of her beastmode attacks to have anything but negative feelings toward her. Jason Todd- **I haven’t decided if this is post, pre, or if the Red Hood arc is going to play out like the canon* Robin (Tim)- Ed doesn’t like any of the Robins, but he does have a very slight respect for Tim. He’s had much more interactions with him than the previous two, and he knows that he’s smart and capable. He certainly keeps his guard up around him, and chooses his words wisely so not to divulge too information. Batgirl (Steph)- Dislikes, but doesn’t take her too seriously.

Batgirl (Cass)- Dislikes. Only in his brief interactions with her, he really doesn’t like her. The reasons should be obvious.

Alfred Pennyworth- None

Jim Gordon- This one is a bit complicated. When Ed worked for the GCPD he had very few interactions with Jim, but the two were cordial. When Ed became The Riddler Jim felt betrayed since he used a lot of information he’d complied while working at the department. Over the years though Jim began to see Ed as someone who couldn’t control himself and was suffering with mental issues. He took the stance of treating Ed the way he treated him, but tries not to get him too riled up. He figured out that if he treated Ed with respect then Ed tended to behave and not get too excitable. On the other hand, Eddie actually likes interacting with Jim. He finds him quite entertaining, and likes watching Jim try to hold his tongue in his presence.

Renee Montoya- Complicated as well. When Ed worked for the GCPD Renee found him to be very odd, and he gave her the creeps though she couldn’t quite put her finger on why. When Ed became The Riddler she also felt betrayed, but she was much more confrontational with her anger toward him than Jim. Through time she also began to see Eddie the same way as Gordon, but she finds it hard to control her distaste toward him. The fact that he can escape handcuffs, and any cell they put him in makes her very nervous around him whenever he’s in custody. Eddie tends to find her outbursts rather funny, and usually would try to get on her nerves whenever he was bored when around her. Renee was rarely the main focus of his attention, but when she was he would be quite rude to her in hopes of getting her riled up. Harvey Bullock- Also complicated. Same situation as the other two, but Harvey actually liked Ed a bit when he worked at the department. He found his snide comments to be very humorous, as long as they were directed toward someone else. He also felt betrayed, but Harvey personally suffered more from Ed’s betrayal. Since then he has a deep disdain toward Ed, and feels zero sympathy or understanding for him. He’s very open about his anger with Eddie, and would often berate him whenever he was in custody. Eddie however loves interacting with Bullock. He finds Harvey’s anger very entertaining, and typically focuses on baiting him into an outburst. He’s used these situations multiple times as a distraction to escape custody.

Villains:

Bane- They haven’t had much interaction, but anyone who breaks the Bat Ed is going to like at least a little bit. Black Mask- Good. Ignoring Roman’s trigger happy temper, Ed tends to find him easy to work with since Roman’s motives are relatively simple. Clayface- Good. He’s hired Basil on a few occasions and found him pretty easy to work with. Catwoman- Dislikes, despite the two not having any real confrontations. The two are respectful to each other, but Selina thinks outside the box too much for Ed’s liking. She’s also better at certain skills than he is, which really messes with his ego since he doesn’t trust her. Long and short of it is- Selina makes Ed feel inadequate so he avoids her, but he’s not stupid so he doesn’t piss her off. Harley Quinn- As The Riddler Ed found Harley to be an annoyance, and couldn’t understand why Joker wouldn’t just kill her. He viewed her as unintelligent, and a waste of time. He generally treated her like he would a child, which sometimes worked and other times Harley found patronizing. *By the time Ed quits his criminal career however, him and Harley have an odd relationship. They’ve survived some very close calls, and even though he still finds her annoying he seems to accept her presence around him even though he tends to ignore most of what she says. Their chumminess is odd, and quite suspicious to everyone else in the city. Hush-**I haven’t decided if this is post Hush, pre Hush, or if Hush plays out like the canon or not**

The Joker- Ed is one of the few people who can be around Joker repeatedly without getting killed. He made the mistake of teaming up with Joker once, and quickly learned his lesson never to do it again. After that he figured out how to deal with Joker, and kept him at arms length. He has The Joker mostly figured out, and doesn’t find interactions with him to be as unpredictable as others do. He also likes that whenever Joker comes to him needing something silly for one of his plans, he can charge him ridiculously high prices and Joker will pay without a second thought. His reputation of dealing with Joker is a bit of an ego boost for him, thinking he’s learned how to manipulate him. The reality is though, Joker doesn’t kill him simply because he finds Ed’s sensitive ego and his self destructive behavior hilarious. Killer Croc- Eddie thinks they’re alright, but they’re really not.

Mad Hatter- They’re alright. Ed can’t be around Jervis for too long because his fantastical ramblings get on his nerves, but he tends to play along with Jervis’ delusions enough that Jervis thinks he understands. Because of this Ed finds him easy to influence. He has little interest in Jervis, but his mind control tech is something Ed’s always been trying to get his hands on. Unfortunately for him, currently Jervis is unwilling to fully share it.

Mr. Freeze- Its really 50/50 with these two. Even though Ed sees Victor as an easy way to make some money, or someone to have do some dirty work for him if need be, he also finds Victor’s anger to be exhausting to deal with. He knows Victor doesn’t like him and only really uses him for his own objectives, but Victor also makes their interactions quiet rocky. Ed will work with him if the opportunity arises, but he’ll keep their business brief. The Penguin- Good. The two of them have very similar skills at persuasion, manipulation, and deception. They practically do a constant dance of give and take with each other, to the point that now they both see the other as a valuable resource. Since they both dabble in similar assets the two have found its easier to work together than to be competition, which has really made them both more successful in the long run. From Ed’s perspective this is a battle of intelligence, but he has recognized that Os is aware of it and surprisingly isn’t put off by it like others are. He respects Os’s boundaries, and finds business with him to be smooth sailing. Os has a good level of respect for Ed. Not only because of his intelligence, and reliability, but also that Ed is smart enough to never fully trust Os. He’s used to being underestimated by people, and Ed’s unwillingness to divulge too much is a level of cunning he admires. *Os is not happy about Ed’s “career” change. He doesn’t believe Ed has turned over a new leaf, but his sudden switch makes him very uneasy. He has people watching Eddie very closely. Poison Ivy- Not at all good. Ed made the mistake of underestimating Ivy early on, giving her the opportunity to see him as the manipulative jerk he really was. She hasn’t trusted him since, and he usually has to avoid her in order to not get crushed by her plants. Ra’s al Ghul- None. **I currently really want to keep the Gotham criminals in the dark about the League** Scarecrow- Dislike. Considering that Crane is an actual intellectual and a genius, Ed does not like interacting with him. He isn’t outwardly hostile toward Crane, but he definitely avoids him whenever he can. Crane’s intelligence really messes with Ed’s ego. Mix that with Crane’s creepy nature, and his constant psychological analyzing, he usually makes Ed feel like an inferior child. He’s also a bit scared of him and that fear toxin. Two-Face- Also 50/50 with them (I didn’t do that on purpose). Having to interact with two people in one body with two separate motivations can be quite stressful for Ed, but at the same time he enjoys the game. Harvey isn’t as easy for him to manipulate as he can with others, and he’s had a few close calls with Harvey where he pushed things too far. This seems to have fueled his interest in the game more, rather than deter him.

#text post #Eddie post #Edward Nigma #character post #character list

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kurowrites · 4 years

Text

In Agreement - Chapter 1

"Wangji, are you sure this is what you want?" Lan Xichen asked.

Lan Wangji studied the bottom of his teacup for a long time before he was able to raise his gaze to meet the concerned eyes of his brother and speak.

"Xiongzhang," he finally said. "I have agreed to the proposal. I am not... unwilling. I never expected to fall in love."

Lan Xichen looked like he wanted to say something, but one glance from Lan Wangji had him maintain his silence.

"I do not place value on such impermanent emotions. To have a steady companion will be enough."

"Oh, Wangji," Lan Xichen sighed. "Sometimes I fear Uncle has had too much success with your education. You deserve to be loved, you know?"

Lan Wangji did not know how to reply to that.

He was not unhappy, that was the truth.

The only other possible choice would have been Nie Huaisang. But considering that Nie Mingjue and Lan Xichen were already sworn brothers, the alliance to the Jiang sect took precedence.

Lan Xichen sighed again.

"I just want you to be happy, Wangji."

"I am content, Xiongzhang. There is no cause for unhappiness."

His brother said nothing, but Lan Wangji could read his thoughts on his face.

After all, he had deliberately evaded referring to himself as 'happy.'

---

Wei Wuxian had always been a passionate person; it followed that he would be a passionate man when it came to love, as well.

Instead, he was going to marry Lan Wangji.

And Wei Wuxian had agreed to the marriage, after all. He had known who Lan Wangji was when he agreed, and he had known the conditions attached to the marriage.

Still, the marriage would happen. They had both agreed to the proposal, their families had agreed to the proposal. Soon, they would be here, and Lan Wangji would be a married man.

---

He let his eye wander over the room in front of him, and Lan Wangji wondered what it looked like to Wei Wuxian's eyes. As the rest of Cloud Recesses, it must seem like a horribly boring place to him.

"What about the living arrangements?" Wei Wuxian asked, rousing Lan Wangji from his thoughts.

Lan Wangji frowned. "It is customary that we share the Jingshi with each other."

Wei Wuxian sent him a look he found difficult to decipher.

His answer was met with wide, disbelieving eyes.

"Lan Zhan!" Wei Wuxian exclaimed. "Why would you think I'd be unwilling to share? Or throw you out of your own home? I was trying to be respectful of your wishes! I-"

He suddenly fell silent.

"Wei Ying."

Wei Wuxian sent him another unreadable look.

But Lan Wangji was good at waiting people out. He stood there, silent, as he studied the beautiful embroidery on Wei Wuxian's robes, and watched his husband consider his answer.

He bit his lips and fidgeted with the seams of his robes.

"Look at me, doing my best to fuck this marriage up on the wedding night," he said, laughing quietly, even though there was nothing funny about it.

"Wei Ying," Lan Wangji said again. Wei Ying looked at him, and Lan Wangji was almost sure there was something akin to fear in his eyes.

That was… distasteful. He did not want his own husband to be afraid of him. And he would never want-

He himself remembered a time when a hug had been all he had wanted, but he had never had the courage to ask for it. And now, all he had left was the bitter taste of regret.

But the words would not come, not as he wanted them to.

In the end, he could do nothing but uselessly lift his arms.

"I will hug Wei Ying," he said.

It was terribly nonsensical and did not help in illustrating the point he was trying to make. But Wei Wuxian smiled a sudden, brilliant smile, and stepped right into his arms as if it were nothing.

"Mh," Wei Wuxian said, his face pressed into Lan Zhan's shoulder.

And Lan Wangji closed his arms, giving the promised hug.

Maybe that was enough, for now.

---

The next morning, Lan Wangji woke before dawn, as he always did.

For once, however, things were a little different.

Lan Wangji considered his new reality for a moment. He decided that the assessment he had given his brother had been accurate:

He might just be able to be contented, indeed.

#kuro writes #the untamed #wei wuxian #lan wangji #wangxian #mdzs #in agreement #arranged marriage AU

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