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traveler-at-heart · 6 months

Text

Secrets

Summary: You try to keep your relationship a secret!

Natasha Romanoff x Fem!R

It was fun at first.

The thrill of sneaking around, secret glances, hidden touches. It had been quite a ride to get to where you were with Natasha, and knowing how the team could be, you both wanted to keep your relationship to yourselves, at least for a little while.

One of your secret spots were the stairs. With a building so big, it was natural that everyone took the elevator. It was the perfect place to meet the redhead and more often than not, the conversation progressed into an intense make out session that left you breathless.

“Is the elevator broken?” Steve asks as you come back from one of your little escapades. You jump at his presence, your mind still thinking about the feeling of Natasha’s lips on yours.

“Uh… no. It’s working just fine. I like to take the stairs to… exercise”

“That’s a nice idea. Maybe I’ll try it one of these days” he nods.

Cap and his obliviousness, sweet old man. He has no idea you’re all flushed for reasons that have nothing to do with coming up the steps.

Still, you think nothing of it. He was probably trying to be nice when he said it was a good idea. The next day, when you’re lost in Natasha, intoxicated by her supple lips and the way they move against your own, you miss the sound of heavy footsteps and an off key whistle.

“Crap” Natasha is the first to react, breaking apart. You turn to look down, Steve taking the steps two at a time.

Fit bastard.

“Morning!” he says, too happy for your liking.

“Oh, hi, we were just…”

“We?” he echoes, and you look around. No trace of Natasha.

“I mean, me. I was just taking a break. I think I’ll go back to taking the elevator”

“You sure you’re ok?”

“Yeah, just a bit agitated. Nothing to worry, Cap”

Steve nods and smiles.

“I told everyone about your great idea. I think people will start using the stairs more”

“Oh, that’s just peachy”

Once again, he is oblivious to your actual feelings. After he’s gone, Natasha jumps from behind the staircase.

“Jesus, how did you manage to do that so quickly”

“Well, you always have to be ready for a quick escape, detka”

Natasha leans forward and pecks your lips, but before she can do anything else, you drag her back to the hallway.

“You heard Cap. Our secret spot is no longer secret”

—

So far, you haven’t found a decent replacement for the stairs, except for a supply closet. And by God, you are not that desperate.

As you cook dinner, Natasha comes up behind you, and you relax against her.

“I’ve missed you” she says against your shoulder, placing small kisses that tickle you.

“I missed you too, love”

A hand goes around your middle and she toys with the hem of your shirt, lips kissing your neck, and that sweet spot behind your earlobe that makes you shiver.

“Nat” you moan, and you don’t know if you want her to stop or keep going.

Yelena answers that for you as she steps inside, eyes widening. You draw blank, because honestly, how can you explain this?

Natasha takes matters into her own hands, literally, as she hugs you and pretends to do the Heimlich maneuver.

“She’s choking” Natasha says and Yelena scrambles around.

“Oh, my God, Y/N, please don’t die”

The redhead pretends to help you, squeezing your middle and you cough.

“I think I’m…”

Unfortunately, the blonde is too freaked out and pushes Natasha away, thinking she’s helping you.

As she presses against your sternum, you are suddenly out of breath and you swear you can feel your ribs cracking.

“Ok, I’m fine, Yelena, thanks” you break free of her hold, sure that your sides will be bruised next morning.

Yelena doesn’t let you cook anymore, so you end up with a dinner of mac and cheese, and Natasha’s sister sitting in the middle while you three watch tv.

“I’m sorry” Natasha says when her sister gets up to grab another soda.

“Just for the record, this isn’t the type of choking I had in mind”

—

“They’re gonna be here any minute” you say against Natasha’s shoulder.

“I know” she bites your neck and you sink further into her lap.

The Quinjet, out of all places is where you find some privacy. The rest of the team will join shortly, as you have a recon mission.

But you can’t keep your hands to yourself and you end up naked, straddling Natasha’s lap as she moves her fingers inside of you.

“God, you look so pretty like this” she says against your chest.

“Nat, more” you plead. It’s too much and too little at the same time. She listens, moving her hand faster and your hips match her pace.

“God. Yes” you collapse in her arms.

“Request to open gate” FRIDAY informs and you curse, because you want more than a second to catch your breath.

Sneaking around is getting old now.

“Come on, let’s get cleaned up” Natasha says, helping you up. She looks proud when your legs shake.

“Shut up” you say, which only makes her smile wider.

While the team enters the Quinjet, you go back to the bathroom with Nat as you hurriedly put your suits on.

“Red? Y/N?” Tony calls for you.

“Here” you raise your arm, feeling a bit tense. Maybe you pulled a muscle.

Stark nods your way and starts the Quinjet, while Steve goes over the plan with everyone else. You stay seated, vaguely aware that something feels different but you can’t tell what it is.

“Be careful” Natasha says when you part ways, squeezing your hand.

Your job is to keep an eye on the guards at the south gate and stop them if they are called to attack the intel team.

Which unfortunately does happen, so you run to shoot, kick and punch at every one of them.

There are two guards left, and as you reach for your gun, something incredibly unexpected happens.

Your suit opens right in the front, revealing your red lacy bra.

“What the fuck” you shout, looking down.

The guard in front of you opens his mouth, completely enthranced by your cleavage.

“New strategy?” Tony flies over, knocking him down. He sends the last man standing across the room.

“No! I don’t know what happened!”

You try to cover but the leather is not giving in.

“Ok, well. We’re done here so you can put all that” he gestures to your chest. “Back in the Quinjet”

Rolling your eyes, and with your arms crossed in front of you, you walk back to the jet.

As you lock eyes with Natasha, you finally notice how her own suit is loose on the shoulders.

You switched when you were getting dressed.

“I like this new look” Sam wiggles his eyebrows and Natasha sends a widow bite straight to his ass.

“Oops” she shrugs her shoulders as he glares.

Feeling a little better after that, you go inside and find a t-shirt to cover up.

When you leave the bathroom, everyone is silent.

“Ok, it’s not like you all haven’t seen boobs before. So get over yourselves. Except Steve, he gets a pass” you bark at them.

“I’ve seen boobs before” he tries to say but no one pays attention.

Natasha stays silent and you think she might be upset or reconsidering this whole thing.

You expect the worse as you land and she leads you back to your room.

“Nat…”

The redhead holds her finger up, taking your shirt off and sinking her face in your breasts.

“Really?”

“Mine” she grumbles, her hands squeezing possessively.

Well, at least some good came out of it.

—

The atmosphere is tense.

Clint, Wanda, Peter and you are playing Jenga.

Honestly, you are the one at a disadvantage here. With Clint’s aim and the enhanced individuals, you don’t stand a chance.

The way Natasha looks at you from across the room doesn’t help either.

It’s been a few days since you were together. Fury called her for an urgent mission and you had to resist the urge to sneak into the Quinjet and beg her to fuck you against the console.

And now, she’s back and you can’t wait for the night to wrap up so you can wrap your legs around her while she eats your…

“Gah!” Wanda screeches, knocking over the tower. “My mind, my eyes”

Crap.

“Wanda, a word?” you plead, dragging her out of the living room while Clint and Peter stare.

“You” she slaps your arm. “And you” she glares at Natasha as she approaches, pushing you both to her room.

“Sorry, we are keeping it a secret for now”

“But your thoughts are so loud” she massages her temples, clearly distraught. “I was so focused on the game and still I could hear everything, see everything”

“Sorry” you grimace. “Do you think you could… not tell anyone? For a bit”

“Oh, trust me, I’m very eager to pretend none of this happened”

“Thanks, Wanda” Natasha says and the girl nods.

“It’s nice to see you both happy. Just try to keep your thoughts to yourselves”

“We’ll try”

Wanda nods, walking out. Natasha’s quick to push you against the wall, eyes darkened by lust.

“Wanna tell me what was on your mind?”

“Can you at least wait for me to leave the hallway?!” Wanda screams from outside.

“You have ten seconds, Maximoff”

“Thanks, I hate you”

—

You figure a little distance from everyone will do you good.

So, you get tickets to a Yankees game and spend the day in the city with Natasha.

Even if you are only a half hour away from the Compound, among the sea of people, no one looks at you when you hold her hand, or share a kiss in the middle of your walk.

“This is nice” you smile, bringing her hand to your lips.

The first half of the game is slow, but you enjoy the time eating popcorn and making comments with Natasha about the score.

During the break, several people in the audience are featured in the screens. A girl chugs an entire beer while the crowd goes wild.

“Damn” you laugh, but the next image you see is you, next to Natasha.

The kiss cam.

“No, we’re fine” you wave your arms and the crowd boos. “Ok, not nice!”

“Don’t be such a baby” she smiles, pulling you closer.

“Pretty sure Steve and Bucky are watching the game back home”

“You jump, I jump” she leans forward, allowing you to decide if you wanna do this or not. As your lips meet in a short kiss, everyone starts clapping and cheering you on.

“Are you sure about what we just did?”

“Very. I’m tired of hiding. You make me happy. What’s wrong with that?” Natasha says and you smile against her lips.

“You are so getting lucky tonight”

But before you can kiss her again, both of your phones go crazy with texts from everyone on the team.

Tony: Is this why Wanda asked me for a way to erase her memory?

Sam: Now I know why you electrocuted my ass, Red!

Wanda: DONT COME NEAR ME

“Still think we made the right call?” you roll your eyes as the texts keep coming.

“Absolutely, detka” she says before kissing you softly.

Yeah. It’s gonna be ok.

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff x y/n #natasha romanoff fluff

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thatoneguydownthestreet · 1 year

Note

Yo! I really love your apocalypse yuu writings I keep coming back to see if it has updated.

I read the Lilia finds out part and when I read the "Epel gave Yuu an apple and he didn't know what it was" it got me thinking about it all night.

How would the first years react to Yuu not eating anything at all(probably other than bread) because he doesn't know what those foods are?

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FEM ALIGNED DNI

Yuus pronouns are he/him, although they're mentioned briefly

This is barely proofread so please excuse the grammar mistakes.

Featuring: Epel, Ace, Duece, Jack, and sebek (there is implied lilia at the very end but it is literally one sentence)

Warnings: Talks of starvation, Yuu's illness, and survivers guilt, so skip this if you're uncomfortable with any of that.

Also I know it's been over a month. I have no excuse. I just didn't feel like it. But I have been teaching myself how to draw so I can be a bigger simp to Jamil so that's fun ig.

________________________________

Damn bro, you really don't know shit huh?

Epel was excited, to say the least.

I mean, could you really blame him? It's not everyday that you get a big ol' crate full of the apples that you were raised with.

By all means, epel should've been long sick of eating apples. Having them almost everyday for majority of his life, dried and dehydrated in the winter, and fresh and juicy in the spring and summer.

But no, no epel felmeir loves those apples. Every single one he ate seemed to effortlessly send him back to the simpler times of his childhood. Where he would send hours upon hours avoiding his siblings and playing games with his cousins in the orchards and taking naps in the sun while he waited for his meemaws infamous apple pies to finish baking. And meemaw would almost always let him have the first slice! Of the ones she wasn't going to sell at least.

He really missed her...

He'd have to ask her to bake him another one this winter.

But just getting to read the letter she had wrote, along with his parents and one of the towns kids that always followed him around like a lost baby duck, put a smile on his face.

Yeah. He'd get to see them soon, and once he graduates, he can get them more money, and be strong enough to protect them if it ever came to that.

Unfortunately, as great as his parents apples were, they couldn't fight the natural forces of time.

Dear sevens- they'd sent him nearly three dozen apples! All high quality too... it shouldn't effect sales too much. The orchards were big, and his parents would rather give up that expensive family heir loom necklace that his mother always wore than start selling spoiled apples.

But still, epel couldn't possibly eat thirty-six apples before they all started to rot. Plus, he didn't know how long they took to ship to the isle of sages, so that cut the time frame even shorter.

.....Does Jack like apples?

Should he even be considering giving Jack an apple to begin with? Their relationship was pretty vague. We're they actually friends or just study buddies?

Study buddies can give eachother gifts too right? And plus, it's food, not a 24 carrot gold ring or something crazy like that.

It should be fine. Maybe he'll give one to ace too. They were friends. Surely.

Ace trappola would say he was a good friend. I mean, he wasn't the best by any means, but he was decent.

Yeah, he could be kind of a dick. But who isn't at this point, honestly, even deuce, even cater had their moments.

But he was still someone the people in his life could go to for things, usually physically, tangible this like food or an extra ball or something, but he wasn't completely useless when it came to emotions either.

You could come to him if something was bothering you. He probably won't help you actually fix it but he can at least make you laugh.

So why didn't you want to laugh?

You had taken your mask off a few weeks ago. And like a bucket of ice cold water had been dumped on him he realized it was the first time he ever saw you eat any food here at all.

Were you eating at all before then? What about water?

Thank the seven you were only here for around a week. But surely, you were dehydrated.

(You were definitely dehydrated. Deuce gave you a water bottle and you chugged it like it was your only chance at life. Which, to be fair, it probably was your only chance at life.)

Ace didn't know what your life was like before.

Ace didn't want to know either.

He didn't do well with heavy topics, always changing the subject when one came up unless he was personally involved in some way.

Other people life didn't concern him, and that was something he lived by.

...but still.

This was going a bit too far, don't you think?

Ace shot a look to deuce, clear concern instead of the regular teasing, which caught his roomates attention faster than he thought it would.

Ok. So deuce had noticed too.

Just goes to show how obvious it was that something is very wrong here.

Now, because ace had never asked, and he probably never will, he didn't know what your relationship with food was like before you came here. But. It couldn't have been this right?

A person couldn't only survive on some bread and room temperature water, right?

You sat across from him at your guy's unofficial table in the cafeteria, drinking the water at a moderate pace, as you didn't want to deal with another scolding from a certain housewarden, doing your best to keep a careful eye on grim as he went to go get his food from the lunch line.

And thank the seven for that, really. If grim turned back and saw that you weren't watching him for even a second, who knows that kind of ruckus would result?

But all that aside, you were still scarily underweight. Seriously perfect, how were you even alive?

Ace looked at deuce again. Deuce looked back.

He sighed.

Ace never, ever thought he would do something like this.

But for sevens sake, you were one of his best friends. And Ace will be damned if he just let you do this to yourself.

So with a deep breathe, he looked at you, and then turned back to what he was pretty sure was an ex-gang member, and nodded.

And for once, deuce understood.

They had to do something.

You reminded Deuce Spade of that stray cat that his mother would always feed when he was a child.

Underweight, scared, scarred, and confused.

Always having an air if caution and paranoia, ready to react, as if anything could just jump out and grab you at any time.

But you weren't a cat, were you?

No. You were a person. Someone his age, maybe younger, that had obviously seen horrors he couldn't even understand. Which just made this whole situation even sadder.

Because if you lived like this, then what the hell was stopping him? What about his mother? What was stopping her from having the same fate?

Duece ignored the memories of his mother giving him food and taking none for herself, saying she wasn't hungry.

But he couldn't quite ignore them, nor could he ignore the pit in his stomach whenever he looked at you.

...Listen perfect, he doesn't know what you went through to be like this, but he knows damn well this isn't normal.

It can't be normal. Hiding this much food underneath your floorboards couldn't ever be normal.

The two of you were just hanging out in your room in Ramshakle. Grim was in the lounge, he was sure, and you had stared off into space before asking the date.

When he told you, you had a look of slight panic as you ripped the rug off from its place on the floor, and started pulling apart the boards.

And what for?

The reveal of a large stash of food, mostly non-perishables, but a few snacks here and there too.

Snacks that were about to expire, apparently.

You turned to look back at him, a sheepish look on your face, and what looked like a bag if chips in your hand.

Deuce didn't know what face he was making.

He just knew it wasn't one he'd want you to see

If someone were to ask Jack howl if he was your friend. He wouldn't know to to say.

I mean yeah, you helped save his entire dorms ass way back when, yeah, you and him absolutely went throught it during azuls little "episode", and yeah, the two of you had plenty of mutual friends.

But we're the two of you friends?

Jack wasn't sure.

Because by all accounts, you should be.

It didn't change the fact that you weren't. Not really. Not by his definition and not by yours.

So what were you?

Well, you weren't friends. That was already established. And you were too close to be acquaintances (he didn't think acquaintance fell asleep on each other in the botanical gardens, only to wake up five minutes till curfew and just haul ass back to their respective dorms with smiles on their faces), so...what did that leave?

Well... I guess it left this.

"Eat it"

"....huh?"

Jack didn't know you that well. But that didn't mean he couldn't see..this happening. And it definitely didn't mean he didn't care.

So here he was. Holding a pastrami sandwich about an inch away from your face, silently begging you to just shut up and eat it.

Come on perfect, he bought this with his own money. Just humor him, please.

You eyed the sandwich like it was the most untrustworthy thing you'd ever seen. Jack's not going to lie, it kind of hurt.

But it wouldn't matter if you ate it, so he sucked it up.

...at least he would if you'd actually take the fucking sandwich.

Seriously, it was starting to tick him off.

Jack briefly considered just varying off and giving the sandwich to ruggie or something, or just eating it himself. He wasn't the biggest fan of pastrami but who knows, maybe the school made it better.

Honestly, he probably would have done just that if the image if you leaning against the wall looking ready to pass out from, what he knew, was malnutrition.

The event itself actually happened around two weeks ago, give or take. Jack thinks the only real reason he remembers it so well is because, well, it was the moment.

The defining moment, the moment where it just clicked that something was very wrong here.

He already knew that of course, I mean, look at you.

But as it turns out, watching someone actively starve to death in front of you will keep you up at night.

His mind turned to ruggie for a split second, before forcibly shoving that thought down where all the other thoughts he didn't want to think about were.

Like that time when he was a kid with a crush on Vil....yeah, Jack's happy he got o er that one to say the least. Nothing against Vil, he's a great friend and all (they were friends right?), but them in a relationship? Yeah. No. Not happening. No thankyou.

...yeah.

Jack mentally slapped hi.self and proceeded to shove his weird thoughts down yet again and refocus on getting his not-quite-friend to eat.

You were leaning back a lot farther than you were a second ago, if you did that anymore you'd probably just end up on the ground.

...jack sighed. This was going to take a while wasn't it?

By the end of the lunch period, you had come to a compromise, jack you slip the sandwich with you and take the other half for himself.

You ended up splitting your half with grim, who reluctantly took it. You had actually eaten yours too!...after you took the while thing apart and inspected and obsessed over it like how he'd seen Rook do to his housewardens that one time!

But still, it was something.

It was a start. And that's really all he could ask for at this point.

Sebek didn't notice anything about you at first. And he didn't particularly care much either. He was a guard for sevens sake! He had a deep responsibility!

He had a crown prince, that he oh so admired, to protect! Not to mention silver, who he had to wake up at every given turn, and not to mention Lilia, who had recently been going harder on their training sessions.

So to waste his time with a human? With a weak little human that didn't even come close to his current list if priorities?

That's time he simply did not have!

...So why was he here?

He was supposed to be looking for his charge. His charge, who always seemed to wind up around the old, abandoned Ramshakle building and just dissappear in the nick of time.

It had been happening more and more lately, especially since that new perfect moved in.

He would be lying if he said he cared too much about him. Again, he didn't have time to be curious about some strange human boy with some strange past.

But still, he couldn't quite contain the way he jumped back when he'd first seen them.

Whoever he was, he looked so...sick.

...he didn't have time for this.

Turning back on his heel, he refocused his mind on finding his lord again, and quickl- wait- silver. Oh great sevens. Silver wake up!

Ok. Sebek really didn't have time for this.

...and yet.

Here he was, standing next to you, arms out ready to catch you at a moments notice if you really were going to collapse like he thought you were.

He hadn't been this close to you before.

And now he could see that you weren't just sick.

Great seven, you looked like you were dying...

Sebek zigbolt had always known humans were weak, fragile creatures. Never able to even light a candle next to faeries. Never able to light a candle next to him, and certainly not his young master.

But this was just pushing it.

Sebek was stronger than his human counterparts. He would long outlive them. He thought of silver for the shortest second and then quickly pushed that thought to the side. This was not the time. Buteven with those facts, sebek still knew that humans weren't made of fine glass. Even if the people in his homeland liked to act like it, Sebek still knew that humanity wasn't completely hopeless.

One strong gust of wind wouldn't knock them over.

One missed meal wasn't enough to do detrimental damage to their health.

Pulling one all nighter would barely put a dent in their day to day lives, aside from the obvious fatigue and.

But with you?

With you? Alwats looking like you could kneel over and die then and there on the classroom floor?

...

Sebek want so sure anymore.

Epel had eaten more apples than any normal person should ever be able to eat.

Sevens help him, his stomach.

Despite the waves of pain that shit through him every now and then, epel wasn't mad.

Yeah, maybe eating a whole eight apples in the span of two hours wasn't his smartest idea, but the sweet nostalgia that seemed to wash over him and warm his very soul? Yeah no, it was worth it.

So no. Epel felmeir wasn't mad.

And laying in a bed that was much too soft for his taste, a direct contrast from the slightly itchy blankets and the hard mattresses back home, epel glance over to the almost empty crate of apples that were sitting just under his work desk.

...As much as Epel wanted to eat them, he wanted to do this even more.

Epel sat up, ignoring his stomach pain the best he could, and began a mental list of all the people he knew. And then a silent debate over who deserved his families apples in the first place.

Ok. First up Ace.

Epel would say they were friends. Not close friends by any means, but friends nonetheless.

Epel could give him one.

Next was Jack.

...In all honesty, epel didn't know. We're they friends, or just simply homework buddies that occasionally hung out?

...he could spare one for Jack, maybe they'd be friends then if they weren't already.

Duece.

Yes. Just- just yes. That day on the beach had changed their relationship forever. Duece was like a brother to him at this point.

He was goddamn getting an apple.

Epel chuckled a little at the realization that he was treating this like one of those elimination gameshows his meemaw liked.

Ok...he had two apples left after that.

Sebek wasn't really his friend was he? He certainly didn't make it seem like he was. If anything, Sebek was trying his damnedest to make them all belive the exact opposite, really.

....maybe he should just give the apple to Rook.

Or Vil.

Maybe.

Ok. He has one apple left.

The two of you weren't really friends. But you were friendly. If nothing else, you had been nothing but kind to him so far.

And plus, you looked uh. Half dead. To put it nicely.

And so, with a smile on his face, epel took out the crate of apples and began placing them on a bag that would make them easier to carry around tomorrow.

He couldn't wait.

It's funny how your whole life can change in a single moment, especially when you don't even know what that moment was.

Why were you here? Where is here anyway? Surely, magic didn't exist right?

The air wasn't always this clean right?

Water wasn't readily available at the turn of a handle right?

People didnt...people werent...weren't....

Heh. Heheha.

Why.

Why were you here?

Why you and not one of the kids? What the hell have you ever done but use up medical supplies in a fruitless effort to keep you alive.

Why was this world so...pretty. happy. Clean.

Why this world and not your own? What had this world ever done to deserve this luxury of life.

...What had yours?

What had you?

Out of all the base commanders, the medics, the farmers, or children, or any of the other apprentice kids that you sometimes had to work with.

You were here. And they were still trapped inside of that hell.

...You didn't deserve this.

You died. You were on that beach and you died.

You woke up in a coffin, but something told you this wasn't the afterlife.

That something being the blood that you coughed up the other day.

It wasn't from internal bleeding, you k ew that much. Rather, it was from you coughing so hard that something in your throat had ripped.

It really didn't matter. You had spent nearly half an hour in a panic, choking and trying to unclog your airways, while grim and the ghosts you had come to somewhat love, stood behind you, offering what little comfort they could.

It wasn't the first time this happened after all.

You were still bedridden for a good two days after that. Thank God for the weekend.

Time passed in a blur while you were like that. It always did, mostly because you were asleep ninety percent of the time. The other twn being dedicated to medicine and a vain attempt to get food you knew you couldn't stomach to stay down.

So no. This wasn't the afterlife.

It was just a beautiful second chance that you didn't deserve.

It was so confusing.

And this was so confusing.

What..is this weird red thing being handed to you?

Epel looked at you with a hopeful expression on his face. It reminded you of the little girl you used to look after...

You take the..thing.

Glancing over to your right, you watch Ace take a large bite out of it with a smile on his face.

Ok. So not poisonous. Good to know.

You saw Duece do the same thing.

You felt Jack staring at you, but you didn't dare look at him.

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emeritusemeritus · 3 months

Note

HIII im so happy your requests are open you’re one of my favorite writers on here!!! i’ve been craving more twins x reader content and i’ve always wanted to see them pining after an oblivious customer at the shop like literally spelling it out for her and just her being a bit dense thinking that she’s just a valued customer �� love your work and hope you have a great week!!

Thank you so much!! This was an absolute pleasure to write, I really hope it’s okay for you! 🖤

Warnings: None? Mentions of implied kissing, reader is completely oblivious. Fred is as charming as ever and George is a sweetheart.

Word count: 1.8k

Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes had quickly become your favourite spot in all of Diagon Alley. It was vibrant and exciting, a draw for many witches and wizards without any hint of discrimination and it didn't hurt that the two owners were two of the most handsome men you'd ever seen, not that you'd dream of telling them that.

Your first visit to the shop has been an accident really, hunting down a perfect gift for your nephew who was just about to start his first year at Hogwarts. One of the owners, who you found out to be Fred had helped you find the most perfect gift that had been an overwhelming success with your nephew. The second time, he was slightly different than you remembered and you'd convinced yourself that you had just remembered him differently until the very man you'd been secretly thinking about since your first time at the shop walked out and greeted you with a big smile. That was the first time you met George, and unceremoniously found out that they were identical twins.

Since then you'd been back numerous times, sometimes for gifts, sometimes for more personal reasons and has even started dropping in on your lunch break just to chat to the twins as your friendship grew. They were abundantly friendly and chatty, so naturally funny and charming that it was easy to talk with them and they always made you feel incredibly welcome. Fred had invited you to the shop to share your lunch break together multiple times and you'd even found yourself hanging around as the store closed around you because George wanted company.

"I'm so excited!" Valerie, one of your best friends says enthusiastically as you step into Diagon Alley. She was from France and was educated at Beauxbatons, missing the cut off for the Triwizard Tournament by one year, something she was still peeved about. She was visiting you in London and she'd made you promise to take her to the place you kept mentioning in your letters.

You laugh along, seeing her excited face as you round the corner, walking past Ollivanders until the figurehead of the twins appeared up ahead, the brilliantly vibrant orange building standing out against the muted palettes of the other shops.

"Afternoon ladies," you hear from beside you, waking a grin spread across your face. Fred.

"Hi Freddie," you smile up at him, seeing his broad grin already stretched out across his face. His gaze flashes to Val and you briefly introduce them until your attention is pulled away by George who appears on your other side, already eagerly talking to you about the new product he'd been working on, the same one you'd offered to help with only the other night, pausing briefly to introduce himself to Val.

"Right Georgie, reckon we best get back to the paying customers," Fred says with a wink in your direction, pulling his brother away as they go back to assisting the other customers in the shop. George touches your shoulder gently as he squeezes past and gives you a sweet smile before heading off, immediately going over to a little boy and his mum who are looking at the Pygmy puffs. Your eyes trail towards Fred who's lingering around the love potion stand, trying to flog them to a group of witches who look to be around their third year. When he spots you looking, he gives you a little smirk and another wink, gesturing towards the love potions with a wiggle of his eyebrows. You can't help but smile, giggling a little before you look away, turning back to Val.

Her eyebrow is raised at you and her face holds a knowing smirk, already implying something.

"So what did they mean 'paying customers', are you not one?"

You give a little shrug, "they give me a discount, sometimes they let me test things, it's nothing really."

Her face says everything she isn't saying, she's delighted but judgy, as if she doesn't believe a single thing you were saying. You laugh and nudge her gently, "really, we're friends."

"Very friendly friends?" She teases with a wiggle of her eyebrows but you nudge her again and tell her to behave, not wanting to get into it, especially in a place that created and sold extendable ears, nothing was safe from the Weasley Twins.

She walks over to the Peruvian instant darkness powder, picking up a crystal and examining it in her hands with a smile on her face.

"So how can you tell them apart? You knew straight away," she says, casting her gaze over to you as she puts down the crystal and moves across to the next shelf, the display of wonderwitch products; carefully avoiding the puking pastilles on the way.

"Oh I don't know, they don't look that similar to me anymore. I suppose it's mannerisms mainly, Fred usually talks first and George is better at explaining things," you explain, stopping your eyes from wandering back to the owners.

"Hmm," she says with a smirk, still holding back what she was going to say.

Suddenly, the rolling ladder appears from the side with George clutching on to the steps, his smile splayed across his face as he appears.

"Pimple vanisher, yeah it really works," George says nodding his head, "tried it myself, well on Ron anyway. Ten seconds and your spots are gone."

"But how?" Val says, beguiled by the magic behind it. You stand back and watch, enjoying seeing George so effortlessly charming, showing what he'd created.

"Course, some of us don't need it do we y/n?" He says, looking up to you with a sweet smile, "must be good genetics."

"Or maybe I'm an avid Wheezes tester with a very rigid skincare routine," you play along, holding up the little pot of vanisher.

"That's a good sale!" He says with excitement, "want a job? Could do with prettying up the employees."

"Pretty sure you and Fred were trying to work out who was more handsome last night, I think you know you're pretty enough," you smirk, earning a chuckle from George.

"Clearly I won," he adds, flashing a grin at Val.

"What are everlasting eyelashes?" She says, picking at the pink and black box.

"Exactly what they say on the box," George flashes her a teasing smirk before pulling you closer to him by the hand, displaying you. "Want lashes like these? Make the boys really notice your beautiful eyes? Just need this box and your dreams will come true."

"You think she has beautiful eyes?" Val teases, goading George but it doesn't work, he bites back almost instantly, nodding enthusiastically.

"Wanted to put her photo on the box but she wouldn't let me," he chuckles with a little shrug before pausing for a moment and reaching up high for the little package of flirting fancies.

"Make any man fall at your feet with these, just one bite and they'll be smitten," he says, handing the neatly wrapped box to Val.

"Think you might have accidentally ingested one," she mutters, just quiet enough for only you to hear and covering it with a smile as she looks over the box. You subtly nudge her and she relents, but not before shooting you a wicked look.

"Anything you want, on the house," George smiles, flashing you one last look before rolling away and starting anew with his next customer.

"Right tell me honestly, how many of these have you given him?"

"Val! I told you we're friends," you say with a roll of your eyes.

"You might want to tell him that," she quips, nodding her head towards the space behind you. As soon as you turn, you're met with the rather solid chest of Fred Weasley.

"Ladies," he smirks with a dramatic bow of his head, his hand reaching up to touch your shoulder gently.

"You give all your customers this much attention?" Val asks with raised but playful brows, completely ignoring your glare.

"Only the prettiest ones," Fred replies, reaching out to grab the little pot beside the love potions. Val shoots you another knowing look with her eyes and you wordlessly tell her to shut up with your own, doubling down on the harsh glare.

"Kissing concoction," he says, holding up the little pot of almost clear liquid, "makes the drinker become longingly infatuated with the giver, just long enough to ensure only the best kisses will be shared. Made with real pearl dust as well."

"Maybe I could try it on you?" Val asks, suddenly getting flirty with Fred, "prove that it really works."

You don't miss the way his tongue slips out to meet his lips as he clears his throat, fidgeting somewhat uncomfortably.

"No can do I'm afraid, store policy," he smirks, recovering quickly with the banter.

"But if y/n asked?" Val says sweetly, smiling devilishly between the two of you, making you have to fight to stop your eyes rolling at her insinuation.

"Well she is a valued customer," he says with a pause, pretending to think, finger tapping on his chin, "but rules are rules and who am I to ever break them?"

You can't help but snort out a little laugh, knowing exactly how Fred Weasley felt about rules but you don't say anything, knowing it would only fuel the fire. He looks at you with a teasing smirk but you look away, feeling Val's gaze flicking between the both of you.

"You're so oblivious aren't you," she says whilst walking around the shop, keeping the Pygmy puff she’d painstakingly picked out tucked protectively under one arm.

“What do you mean?” You ask, frowning in her direction, pausing to grab a trick wand for your nephew from the basket near the till.

She shoots you a look, showing her disbelief, “let me think, they give you a discount, one of them has said in no complex way that you had beautiful eyes and perfect skin.”

“George was just,” you interrupt, only for her to look at you with a mild glare, not open to listening to your excuses.

“The other said he’d kiss you and that you were pretty, they clearly like you!”

“I just come in a lot, they’re good businessmen, you know flattery gets your everywhere right? You’re not gonna be rude to a valued customer,” you argue.

“You don’t have to be that friendly either,” she retorts with a sarcastic smile, checking out the pyro display in front of her, dropping the subject.

Your attention drifts away and you subtly turn to your left, feeling eyes upon you. There’s a brief moment where you realise that both Fred and George are watching you from the middle landing on the stairs, both leaning on the rail, before they notice that you’re watching them. As soon as you turn further, they instantly spring into action, pretending they weren’t watching you and spring into action helping the customers, almost comically so.

Your gaze shifts back to Val and you begin to wonder, could she be right?

#emeritusemeritus #emeritusemerituswrites #harry potter #fred weasley #fred weasley x you #fred weasley x reader #george weasley x you #fred weasley imagine #george weasley #fred weasley masterlist #fred weasley drabble #george weasley x reader x fred weasley #weasley twins x reader #requests

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kafus · 6 months

Text

OKAY i can follow up my previous platinum post now. i haven't actually fought the gym in veilstone yet nor have i done the team galactic building stuff but there's so much flavor text already from the little that is able to be explored

it's pretty fucked that galactic has been able to set up shop or whatever in so many places because of this lie about finding a new source of energy. like okay while not entirely untrue the public does have the right to be suspicious about it. especially considering uhh

the contrast of these guys saying pretty much the complete opposite of the noble New Energy message. people criticize sinnoh a lot for team galactic not making a whole lot of sense and while i don't think sinnoh is a masterclass in storytelling or anything, i don't think people give it enough credit for it using this contrast to its advantage. i don't think the difference in this dialogue is because team galactic is confused or anything, it's their public facing front vs the truth of their motives. it's very heavyhanded but it's trying to sell this concept to children, so sdfjksd

oh and this gift porygon is entirely optional and able to be missed if you don't walk into this unassuming building with a couple NPCs, but it turns out it's a runaway from team galactic. it's not like pokemon hasn't used pokemon as a storytelling device before, team rocket was literally selling these guys mass produced at the game corner in kanto, but it's a lot more subtle here. the team galactic symbol is in the slot machine reels, and someone just found a random escapee porygon presumably around veilstone city. it's definitely drawing parallels to the Evil Deeds:tm: of team rocket that came before them and implies that they're probably doing more than JUST researching new energy...

oh yes and the constant reminders that dawn (or lucas, but i always play as dawn) is a child. of course the protags in the mainline pokemon games have always been children but it's especially striking in sinnoh. sinnoh's story has some of the highest stakes out of any pokemon games, and yet the protagonist is still a little kid, confirmed by the NPCs. it's more unnerving here.

like a child putting an end to a crime syndicate or a child stopping a natural disaster by summoning a sky god is one thing, but in sinnoh dawn steps into Pokemon Hell and catches Pokemon Satan in the palm of her hands and walks back out. perhaps i'm being a bit overdramatic but as a traumatized person who used sinnoh to cope as a child it's very interesting to me that dawn is hypothetically, arguably, the most traumatized pokemon protagonist. god damn she goes through some shit. these reminders are just disconcerting to me in a way they are not in other pokemon games. though maybe that's my bias speaking a bit too loud lol

ANYWAY now i gotta decide if i wanna grind out getting spiritomb with two ds consoles (or three?? i think i have enough files for that) or if i wanna sit in the game corner for a while to grind out coins for some TMs because i feel like doing one of the two HMM

#kiki was here #kiki.txt #kiki plays games #pt playthrough #long post

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ludinusdaleth · 1 year

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i agree! it's very frustrating that so many people insist it's "ludinus is right, kill them all!" versus "they're all 100% good"

im glad to hear the support, anon. i feel like the cr fanbase has gotten more into theorizing & meta this campaign than last, which im deeply happy about, but i feel like it's come at a cost of not many actually.... analyzing well, beyond their own biases, which is vital.

something interesting to me is how i feel like the very story of c3 itself is partly about how vasselheim is so utterly focused on ludinus as a threat (which, he is undoubtedly one) that they have repeatedly enforced worse & failed in their efforts against him (literally occupying & preparing to obliterate marquet via airship just to get to him and getting eviscerated, kiro's rage about ludinus making her accuse orym of being with him which leads to our current mess). continually vasselheim refuses to assist or care for any other country or party that isnt wholly aligned to their goal. meanwhile in similar nature, the fandom is so completely sure that lud is a liar & a loser that anyone with an idealogy a few degrees south of his is seen as a threat instantly - the fanbase is so mad that this campaign is "anti god" that they're missing the most poignant pro faith statements characters have because they aren't paladins in shining armor plunging a spear into da'leth praising bahamut as they do so - but rather common-people as they try to embrace faith despite trauma & actual godkilling times. and it's at times frankly deeply uncomfortable, considering the characters deemed threats & whose views on faith have been cast aside have been deanna & frida (who have absolutely been treated weirdly to points of racism to their actors), & pagan natives oppressed by what matt outright stated were missionaries.

but in the same uncomfortability zone are people so consumed by their own personal biases with very obvious culturally christian religious trauma (i say this as someone with it too) that they cannot realize ludinus is partially metaphor for everyone who escapes christianity, thinks they're superior for it, but never for a moment unpacks the colonialist doomsday mindset that came with it. i admit i see this far less than the other side, so i dont see it as so much of a concern, but when i do it is unsettling - ludinus is so clearly showcasing far right tactics of alienation & preying on trauma to get people to join his cult, and real people are falling for it. matt has said that religion & art are connected & vital - when aeor fully stepped away from religion it became almost artless. you cannot strip something so important to humanity's core away because of your own experiences - your personal trauma is important but does not mean your bigotry or bias is justified and i feel that message is radiant in c3.

i think this campaign poses some of the most interesting questions on forgiveness & responsibility because, while it's impossible not to draw similarities in how mortals deal with religion, the exandrian pantheon itself cannot be viewed through our world's lens. the gods were warlords who nuked an entire city (that was fighting amongst itself!) to nothing because a few mages posed a threat to them. but afterwards they receded, & locked themselves away. what does that say about them? what does it mean now? do they deserve to be saved? does art surpass its creators? i want to explore these themes so much, and i love that campaign 3 is trying to in vibrant ways - i just hate that so few people want to embrace it & the changes to the fictional world that will come with it, because it's impossible to look past our own noses & embrace more than our own perspective even regarding fiction.

#sorry this is so long #long post #van speaks #critical role meta #campaign 3 #critical role #please no one be weird on this post #asks

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evilmagician430 · 4 months

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concept art/character design for an acachalla centric horror story i've been brainstorming since last school year ^_^ still havent finalized any of these designs, i feel like they need a little more tweaking...

WARNING: blood, body horror, the mangled corpse of a dead animal, guns, crowbars, medical equipment and general medical imagery, and all around just weird and gross stuff

ADDITIONAL WARNING: really fucking long

story and images under the cut:

i imagine the premise is that sue, at the police station, gets a call from the acachallas like in canon. she decides to go to their house to help, alone because her coworkers are all busy/hate her (theyve been in the force long enough to go corrupt while sue still tries to do whats right)

when she goes in she discovers that the acachallas have been dead for like 10 years and their bodies are barely even intact. she also notices that their house is trashed, not only does it seem completely reclaimed by nature, covered in fungus and insects and blood, but a lot of their furniture and appliances are missing. their rooms look like theyre missing all that wouldve signaled the character of whomever inhabited it, and she thinks, well, maybe the house was looted after they died, but that doesn't explain who called...

then she accidentally steps in a pile of fungus. which wasnt there before. she turns around and a man, fully formed, has sprouted out of the ground. he is made almost entirely out of mushrooms and he has 2 shotguns for arms. he tells her to leave his house. she starts to run but then another figure stops her. a very tall woman who speaks in the same voice that called the police department. her form is indiscernible in the dark, but soon sue comes to realize this woman is not human.

she's not even alive.

sue meets the others and, sure enough, they all seem to be amalgamations of various household objects, both inorganic and organic matter, forming crude fascimiles of who they once were. there are 5 bodies and 5 of them, so they must be possessed by the immortal spirits of the acachallas...!

of course, it turns out they never needed help. it was merely a trap to lure sue home.

they accept her and care for her far more than her biological family or "friends" at work ever did. but being with them takes a toll on sue's body. eventually she dies and they build a new body for her. she wakes up as a beautiful monster. she wakes up as herself.

you're going to notice none of these drawings are of sue- that's because she's still just a regular human in this. by the end she might become a horrifying monster like the rest of them, but i havent designed her.

i took inspiration from a variety of sources, but i can only remember some of them off the top of my head:

undertale (lorewise the whole thing about monsters dust being spread on their favorite object so they can live in it, also photoshop flowey designwise was a huge inspiration)

deltarune (largely just the enemy designs)

dont hug me i'm scared (the teacher's designs, general vibes, also lamp's explanation of what happens when someone dies in episode 2 of the tv show)

tipping point (literally just stylistically. i need to learn digital collage to properly portray these designs)

tokusatsu (the costumes for the gorma in gosei sentai dairanger are like. really good. i enjoy their designs severely)

communications era ghost and pals mvs (the collage stuff speaks to my soul)

and thats all i can remember rn. now heres the first pictures i drew of each member of the family (on my world history notes) and the most recent draft of their designs (in mspaint) this is basically all of the drawings of them.

beginning with spencer, he's the smallest of the family at only 4 feet tall. he is made out of his computer and manga collection basically. on each of these i left a lot of notes in the pictures breaking down what each part of the body is made out of. i wanted to incorporate figurines and action figures into his design too but i decided to keep it more focused. but all these designs are still subject to change. a teacher walked by as i was drawing him and said she liked how it was "very industrial but feminine" or something like that.

sally! im not entirely sure what that first sketch is but as you can tell i wanted her to be wearing a doll mask from the start. i gave her this big poofy princess dress to conceal where godzilla connects to the shelves that act as her legs because it looked very strange and did not look like the shelves were her legs. the dress turns into curtains which are draped over her shelves. she was very hard to design but very fun. also i just chose random dolls and stuff i know g3 draculaura and kylie and pnp sasha are like recent dolls that wouldnt exist yet. its a mockup ok

next we got billy who is built out of his own medical supplies. i wanted to make his body one of those IV drip stands, although that means both him and spencer have very similar lower halves, with the wheels. hes the only one who doesnt really wear any clothes because billy doesnt really have an iconic outfit; the only thing i remember he wears is obviously his medic outfit but thats like. a whole outfit. i dont understand the layers of it so i can just put part of it on this thing. maybe i shouldve just given him scrubs. or what i think billy would wear that represents him

gertrude having a dead cat as her hair is a reference to a really specific one-off joke i read about on the wiki but dont actually remember from any of the videos. i think hair is a very important part of self expression so they would want to recreate their hairstyles with whatever they could find. it was hard as hell getting that cat into a shape that made literally any sense but i think i figured it out. her outfit is a combination of what she normally wore and her old costume as the crowbar, which i was inspired to design my version of as well (will post that drawing later). i think its very interesting how gertrude seems to exist to trap and keep safe or detain/kill various dangerous beings. shes like a shepherd but also an executioner.

papa acachalla doesnt have a draft cause this was literally the first time i tried drawing him in this story because i was stuck on trying to imagine what hed be made out of and how he would look like. then i remembered fungus comes in all shapes and forms and also works as a metaphor for his connection with his family and his roots. also his arms are guns LOL! i wanted to make him more catholic but i couldnt come up with how while still having him look like papa acachalla. maybe adding that priest collar cause i think father grigori has it anyways but its hard to draw stuff around his neck area.

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sequinsmile-x · 1 year

Text

By Design

It still surprised her when she thought about how easily they had fallen into a relationship.

A Young Hotchniss fic.

-x-

This is a birthday present for my dear, dear friend @prentissinred. I love you very much and am so pleased our favourite idiots in love brought us together. Thank you for being you <3

I know you love Young Hotchniss, so I hope you enjoy this!

-x-

Words: 3.1k

Warnings: None

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

She’d been intrigued by him the moment he arrived on his first day at work.

Emily was home for the summer between her undergrad and her masters, preparing to go Yale for a year whilst she figured out what to do with her life. She spent the early days of her break avoiding her mother, something she had become quite skilled at over the years.

On Aaron Hotchner’s first day, she’d, quite literally, walked into him. Her coffee had spilt all over his white shirt, her vicious hangover enough to dull her usual quick reflexes. He’d been good-natured about it, despite his obvious irritation, and from there a friendship between the two of them had formed. In the weeks that followed he’d snuck her past her mother more than once, never judging her for being drunk, or asking where she was getting served since she was still underage.

She found him fascinating, something about how serious he was enough to draw her in. He was handsome, his jaw and nose all made of sharp edges, contradictory to his soft eyes and smile that she could pull out of him even at the most inopportune of moments.

She flirts with him all the time, and he flirts back when it’s just the two of them. A sparkle in his eyes that makes her chest feel full of emotions she doesn’t want to name. She overhears him telling one of the other security personnel that he’s newly single, that his long-term girlfriend had broken up with him just before he took this job, and any thoughts she may have previously had about not going any further than harmless flirting disappear.

She watches him from across the ballroom. She’s at the back of the room, leaning against a wall and hoping she doesn’t get seen. Her mother had forced her to come, insisting that she mingles with people she doesn’t like. Instead, Emily watches Aaron from across the room.

He looks good in his suit, just like he always did. He commanded the team he was part of, despite not being the leader, a natural authoritative air about him that meant people listened to him. His eyes meet hers across the room and she winks at him, something that makes him shake his head at her. She finishes her drink and pushes herself off the wall, crossing the room to speak to him.

“Agent Hotchner,” she says as she approaches him, her smile wide and eyes sparkling.

He smiles at her, clearly trying to hide it and failing, the dimples she finds herself itching to press her thumbs into carved deep into his cheeks.

“Miss Prentiss.”

She pretends to act wounded, her hand over her heart, “Miss Prentiss,” she exclaims, “so formal.”

Aaron shakes his head at her, his eyes flicking around the room to keep an eye on his colleagues.

“I am here in a formal capacity.”

She can’t explain her need to spend time with him, the almost primal desire to dig beneath his serious exterior. To mess up his hair and crease his always perfectly ironed clothes. It feels like the last several weeks have been leading up to this moment between them, and she doesn’t want it to pass them by. An idea forms in her head and before she can talk herself out of it she’s already talking.

“Well, that’s good,” she replies, leaning in closer, “because I need you in a formal capacity.”

He turns serious immediately. His brows creasing in a way she knows will one day form frown lines around his eyes. The mere thought of it, the way she wants to see it, to still know him in years to come makes her stomach flip.

“What do you mean?” He asks, his confusion clear.

She tilts her head backwards, indicating a man standing several feet behind her. A man she doesn’t know, a random guest of her mother’s.

“See that guy?” she says, watching how he looks past her, his eyes narrowing as he spots the man in question before he looks back at her and nods.

“You know him?”

She doesn’t correct him but doesn’t confirm it either. Shrugging slightly, her breath catching in her throat as he shifts closer as if he was ready to protect her from anything.

Aaron doesn’t move for a moment, his eyes flicking back and forth between her and the man before he nods again. He reaches out for her, his hand at her back as he leads her out of the room, the heat of his palm less than an inch from her skin. He talks into his microphone, letting the rest of the team know he is with her.

Later that night, when she leans in to kiss him and he enthusiastically responds, she can’t find it in herself to feel bad for the lie by omission that had led them there.

____

18 Months Later

“Hi, sweetheart” Aaron calls out as he walks into their home. He makes sure that the door is locked behind him before he turns to look back at the open-plan apartment, frowning when he can’t see his girlfriend anywhere. “Em?”

“I’m here,” she replies, sitting up from where she’d been laying on the couch, a tired smile on her face as she looks at him. Aaron laughs and walks over, abandoning his briefcase on the kitchen counter on his way. He leans over the couch and kisses her before he rounds it to join her. He smiles at the sight of newspapers spread all over the coffee table.

“Apartment hunting going well?”

“Don’t laugh at me,” she grumbles, immediately leaning against him as he sits next to her, both of her arms wrapping around one of his, her hands grasping at his tricep, “It sucks.”

He kisses her forehead, smiling against her skin, “I know it sucks. Why do you think I settled for this place?” He asks, pulling back to look at her, “It was the first one I saw that was affordable and not in a completely terrible area.”

Emily smiles up at him, cupping his cheek to pull him in for a kiss, her thumb pressing into his dimple.

“It would be easier if you weren’t insistent on splitting rent down the middle,” she says, only pulling far enough away to speak, stamping another kiss to his lips, “I can afford more.”

Aaron sighs, shifting slightly back from her. It was a conversation they’d had countless times since they’d decided it was time to move. His apartment had served him well in the couple of years he’d lived there, but it felt like the right time to move. He wanted something slightly bigger, and in the few months Emily had been officially living with him it had become clear the apartment wasn’t quite big enough for two people. Which felt ironic when he considered that his initial plan had been to live here with Haley.

“Em-”

“I know, I know,” she says, smiling softly, not wanting it to turn into an argument again, “We do everything equally.”

“Except for the cooking,” he quips, and she scoffs, pinching lightly at his skin as he laughs again.

“I think we both know it’s safer that I don’t cook,” she replies, laying her head on his shoulder, “And I do the cleaning.”

It still surprised her when she thought about how easily they had fallen into a relationship.

At the start, she’d tried to convince herself it was just sex, that it was all it ever could be, but it had quickly developed into more. For the first time in a long time, someone cared about getting to know her. Aaron remembered every tiny thing he learnt about her. As if he was collecting facts, storing them away for a day when he’d need them. She felt the same pull to learn everything about him too. Content to lay in his arms, their naked skin pressed against each other, as he told her stories from his childhood. That summer had gone so quickly that it almost gave her whiplash. She’d prepared herself for a goodbye that never came, finding herself feeling nothing but relieved when he said he wanted to try something more long-term with her. That the fact he was about to start a new work placement and that she was about to go to Yale, didn’t concern him if it didn’t concern her.

So they’d made it work.

She visited him in DC whenever she could, never telling her mother that she was in town so she could spend every second with Aaron. He’d visit her in New Haven. Her tall, slightly mysterious, FBI boyfriend an interesting talking point to any of her friends that they’d bump into on the rare occasion they left her apartment. Throwing clothes on so they could go get food, his arms wrapped around her from behind as they stood in the grocery store trying to find the cheapest bottle of wine.

He made her happy, and she knew she did the same for him. Moving into his place when she graduated from Yale seemed like the only real option, the only thing she truly considered. Her mother had been less than impressed when she found out about them, although when she looked back on it, letting her find out when Aaron showed up at graduation might not have been the best plan.

“Anything standing out to you?” He asks, looking over at the pile of newspapers. She groans and presses her forehead into his shoulder.

“The only thing that stands out to me is that rent is extortionate for what you get in this city.”

He chuckles, pressing a kiss to the top of her head, “I’d live in a dumpster with you.”

“I thought we were already doing that here,” she deadpans, laughing and squirming away when he tickles her in retribution for her joke. She had never truly liked the apartment they lived in, but it had him in it, so because of that it felt like home. She smiles up at him, her bottom lip caught between her teeth, “I’d live in a dumpster with you too,” she replies, kissing his jaw, “And at this rate, that’s what we might literally end up doing,” she picks up a paper and passes it to him, grimacing as she does, “Look at the price of that. For a studio. It’s absurd.”

Aaron frowns as he looks at the photos of the apartment in question, “It is small,” he replies, smirking at her, “At least we don’t have any secrets, it wouldn’t be possible to keep them in a space like that.”

She’s grateful that he misses how she freezes, his focus on the paper in his hand giving her the second she needed to gather herself.

At first, she’d thought nothing of the lie by omission that had led to them being alone that first night. It didn’t cross her mind the next morning when she woke up in her bed, Aaron half on top of her as he slept. It didn’t as she snuck him out of the house, unable to stop herself from kissing him again. She only thinks about it months later when he tells the story of how they got together to a friend of his in front of her, his hand wrapped around hers as he mentions the man at the party that had changed everything in passing.

She never knew how to bring him up, how to tell him that what he clearly considered a part of their story was a fabrication. They’d sacrificed much for each other. She’d given up a job opportunity. Nothing about Europe seemed appealing without him, so she’d said no without a second thought.

He’d given up Haley.

Emily still remembered it happening. It was her first visit back from Yale and they’d been desperate for each other. Tearing at each other's clothes as they barely made it to the couch the first time before they eventually moved to his, now their, bed. Aaron had convinced her they needed food and ordered pizza. She’d slipped on a shirt of his as she heard a knock on the door, opening it without looking through the peephole only to be met by his ex-girlfriend. Time had slowed down as Haley looked her up and down, shock in the blonde’s eyes that turned to misplaced fury.

Emily was sure that would be it, that he’d want Haley back and she would be nothing more than a blip in his story. She’d quickly got dressed as he spoke to Haley in the next room, unable to stop herself from overhearing his ex-girlfriend say that she wanted him back, that she regretted leaving him. Emily still remembered the fear, the bitter pre-emptive heartbreak as the door opened behind her. She expected to turn to see a sympathetic look on his face, an apology that she didn’t want to hear. But instead, he looked confused, his eyebrows knitting together as he asked her why she was packing her things. He’d told Haley it was too late, that he loved her now.

It was the first time he’d said it.

“Are you ok, sweetheart?”

She looks at him and swallows thickly. All of a sudden, even though she’d kept it to herself for a long time, she finds herself desperate to tell him. The words escaping her before she can stop them, overwhelmed by the need to show him this part of herself. Something she had kept hidden since she was young, effortlessly being whoever those around her needed to be.

Aaron had only ever wanted her to be herself.

“I have to tell you something.”

Aaron frowns at her, concern flooding through him, his body freezing with it. She’s looking down at her nails, picking at her cuticles, and he puts his hand over hers to stop her. He links their fingers together and lifts her hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to her knuckles.

“You can tell me anything.”

She smiles shakily at him and blows out a breath, “You know the party you worked at for my mother?”

“The one that happened the same night that you jumped me?” He asks, smiling at her, his humour an attempt to calm her. “I remember it well.”

She narrows her eyes at him, briefly forgetting her point, “I seem to remember that you made the first move.”

“We remember those early days very differently,” he replies, rubbing his thumb over her wrist, a movement they both found comforting, “So the party?”

Her smile fades as she remembers why she’d started the conversation in the first place. “Yes, the party,” she says, holding his hand tightly, “I implied that there was a man there that I didn’t want to see and…it’s not true,” she says, watching his face for a moment before she carries on, her words speeding up as she does, “I have no idea who he was. I’d never seen him before, or since and I really just wanted to spend time with you-”

“I know,” he says, cutting over her, stopping her in her tracks.

For a moment, she doesn’t react. Simply staring at him with her mouth still slightly open as his words sink in.

“You…” she drifts off, her eyebrows furrowing as she continues to stare at him.

“I know you didn’t know that man,” he says, smiling at her, “His name is Jeffery Filburn by the way,” his smile turns into a smirk, “In case you ever wondered.”

There’s another pause, another moment of silence as she simply blinks at him, lost for words for the first time since they’d met.

“How long have you known?” She asks, her eyebrows furrowing, confusion turning her to stone, her eyes fixed on his face. He shrugs a little, acting like it was no big deal, like this thing she’d thought was a secret from the start hadn’t been slowly weighing her down.

“Since the day after,” he says nonchalantly, and it snaps her out of it, causing her to gasp in outrage.

“The day after?” She exclaims, frowning at him, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“To be fair, sweetheart,” he says, raising an eyebrow at her, “I don’t think you’re in any position to question me about keeping it a secret.” Her only response is a half-hearted glare, and he puts his arm around her, pulling her into his side. “I thought it was sweet that you wanted to spend time with me. And I wanted to spend time with you.”

She groans, hiding her face in his chest, “This is so embarrassing,” she complains, “How did you find out?”

“I looked him up,” Aaron replies simply, “I wouldn’t be very good at my job if I hadn’t.”

“And you don’t mind?” She asks, lifting her head just enough to look at him, scrunching her nose up slightly, “You’re not mad?”

Aaron shakes his head, reaching out and tucking some of her hair behind her ear. He’s gentle with her, just like he always had been, treating her like she’s made of something precious. He leans in to kiss her, pressing his love into her skin. Her cheek. Her nose. Her lips.

“I’m not mad,” he assures her, “As long as you’re not.”

“I’m not mad,” she says, smiling up at him, ignoring the embarrassed flush to her cheeks, the way her skin burned with it, “But maybe we just promise not to keep anything from each other from now on. No matter how…silly or small it might seem.”

He kisses her again, “Agreed,” he says, winking at her, pleased when it makes her roll her eyes at him, the last bit of seriousness in the air dissipating.

He looks at her, focusing on the beauty that had first drawn him to her, something he had quickly learned was much more than skin deep. She’d changed his life, made him happier than he remembered being in a long time, bringing out a part of him that he thought had been torn from him in his childhood. Anger and fear replaced by the love and joy she had brought him. He could never be mad about it. Not for a second.

Even if it had started with a situation she’d created. Something she’d curated. Designed with the same care she’d always shown him. The care he hoped he’d be able to bask in forever.

“I love you,” he says, his hand on her cheek, tracing her soft skin.

She beams at him, “I love you too.”

-x-

I'm sure the swifties have realised this was inspired by Mastermind ❤️

-x-

Tag list:

@ssa-sparks, @lukeclvez, @lyds102, @glockleveledatyourcrotch, @hotchnissenthusiast, @danadeservesadrink, @ssamorganhotchner, @emilyprentissisgod, @notagentprentiss, @freesiasandfics, @emilyshotchniss, @thecharmingart, @paulitalblond, @hancydrewfan, @camille093, @whitecrossgirl, @moonlight-2-6, @rawr-jess, @florenceremingtonthethird, @jareauswife, @ms-black-a, @beebeelank, @aubreyprc, @zipzapboingg, @psychopath-at-heart, @criminalmindsgonewrong, @fionaloover, @kinqslcys, @prentissinred, @ccmattis22, @denvivale317, @thrindis, @hotchsguccitie, @cmfouatslota77, @alexblakegf, @aliensaurusrex, @prentissxhotch, @emobabeyy, @victoiregranger, @stormyweatherth, @wanderingdreamer009, @ssablackbird, @luhconh, @lex13cm

Join my tag list here!

#hotchniss #hotchniss fanfiction #hotchniss fanfic #aaron hotchner x emily prentiss #aaron x emily #hotch x prentiss #aaron hotchner fanfiction #emily prentiss fanfic #young hotchniss

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clowny-rolls · 13 days

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Random HCs for delarune characters that are entirely based off canon

Spamton

His eyes are blue. IRL, my eyes are blue, and i wore spamton glasses for a costume, and they looked like big black circles, so that put the mental image in my mind of him having blue eyes

He can remove his arms and jaw. In the official artwork, the only part of his body that is visibly jointed is his jaw, so i hc'd that his elbows and shoulders are jointed under his coat. Nobody ever talks about this, but in the game, part of his glitching, his jaw literally comes off.

He can speak spanish. BRUH, THAT'S ACTUALLY CANON.

(also the only times I've heard "hochi mama" was when someone was describing a pretty lady while speaking spanish-) toby fox literally hired fangamer for the sweepstakes. And there's canon lore in it

spamton's middle name is actually Gary. Why? Gary Thuerk. Inventor of electronic spam mail.

He hates being short-shamed. Who in the right mind doesn't??

Jevil

He has lil black horns. That's literally the only horns i draw on demons 💀

His hair is long and tangled. Being locked away for about ten years with no hairbrush or scissors? yeah.

His hair is dark blue. I like the idea of jevil not having any white on his body. I don't like white-haired jevil for that reason. His teeth are yellow, his eyes are black and gold, i also hc that his nails are naturally black

Clawed feet. I don't like hooved jevil. One, how would he keep his feet flat, and two, i grew up with clawed-feet imps (only exception for hooved imps are the helluva boss ones). I imagine people with hooved toes having curved feet, so they need shoes with raised heels (Michael from Panic Swing)

His blood is blue. I mean, why de fric wuld it be red-

He likes rubber ducks. They're cute lil things. Also if he could have a car, it'd be a jeep for his ducks.

He doesn't know how to feel about spamton. 🤷

Ralsei

...i don't have very many hcs of him besides he likes big trucks and was created when dess went missing. I think that's the time Kris' headband went missing.

Seam

He doesn't care what you call him as long as you're being polite. Since he is sexless, it doesn't matter. I based this off my dad (he's transfem, but doesn't care what you call him.)

He likes being pet. SEAM IS A KITTY CAT

he lost a few teeth when jevil attacked him. I imagine him having a plastic mesh in his jaws, keeping his teeth on (and his teeth are black cuz the mesh is black, and the white paint wore off after several years), and when jevil slashed a few teeth out during his attack.

Seam has an orange belly. In the lightworld, the cat plush has an orang belly, so i based seam off dat.

Seam has beans. Why? Cuz i like cat beans 😎. They cute.

He has an old carousel music box that belonged to jevil once. I imagine he boxed up everything that belonged to jevil, exept the music box. It's not in on the shop shelves because he's not planning on giving it up anytime soon.

He practically raised jevil. It's evident he's a lot older than jevil, and was friends with him since he was a child

His fur can grow back after being cut. He's alive, so why not?

Starwalker

I'm the original

Starwalker

Queen

She's afraid of people under 5''4. They might bite her knees

She has google in her brain. It makes sense and is funny.

She has a soft spot for children despite saying she doesn't like them. This is based off how she treats lancer. That's her precious baby boy.

She erased spamton from her memory. I mean, why would she care?

She has a lil camera in her visor, and her visor is one-way, so you can't see inside, but she can see outside in 4k.

She has had multiple bodies. Each one looking similar, but gets more advanced every update. She looked entirely different when she was first created, but starting looking like something sci-fi during the 90s. She also couldn't walk until then. Her appearance didn't change much after the 90s, except she became shinier, taller, and the inside changed a lot, as she was upgraded once every two years. Now she's advanced enough to pass off as living.

She doesn't understand emotion as well as normal people. I mean, she understands it sorta, but not as well since she's AI.

She can get wet. I mean, her being in water sorta freaks me out cus she's a robot, but i imagine her becoming waterproof after a few upgrades.

She's the most advanced robot in the cyber world. All the other robots look simpler and more robotic

Rudinn and Hathy

I took one specific rudinn, and one specific hathy to hc both

They besties. Thier kinds are both assigned to work together, but these two only do well cuz they tight. They homies.

The rudinn i hc'd was the bakesale one lmao.

The rudinn is named Rexun, and the hathy is named Larry.

Also Rexun's cousin is a ranger.

Swatch

There are only two people that have ever made him lose his cool (and guess who they are.)

He Fr can't be fazed easily.

He can tolerate jevil more than spamton. This is based off a deltarune hack where you can put jevil in the cafe. It unfortunately breaks the game, and jevil can't talk, but the texbox shows up and his talking animation runs. (Also his talking sound effect can be heard)

He's strong. This was hinted to be canon so idk if it's canon.

@cicada-ncc-1701 @cheesyjester

#Deltarune #long-ass text #hcs

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journey-to-balance · 2 months

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Essays: 9 Roads to a Calm Mind

In the busy rhythm of modern life, keeping a quiet, calm mind seems like a quest for rare treasure. Yet, my years of practicing living slowly have taught me that calmness is an attainable state nurtured through simple and intentional practices that root us in the present, bringing us a sense of peace and acceptance.

The garden is changing by the day. Warm spring days are well on their way with new blooms popping up everywhere. I know because I observe nature closely, using it as a guide. This is my first proven way to a balanced and calm mind.

#1. Living in tune with nature and adapting her pace.

Spending time outdoors, surrounded by nature quite literally alters our brain chemistry. It lowers our anxiety, stress levels, and risk of depression.

Personally, it also makes me realize that although I am a one of a kind individual, I am also part of a greater whole, and my worries are pretty insignificant in the grand scheme of things. So I might as well take things in stride.

Hello early spring sunshine!

I feel the same about gardening. It connects me to earth's natural rhythms. In fact, gardening teaches that life unfolds in seasons and cycles. It's much easier to accept and enjoy our season of life than to force ourselves to bloom when we are not ready, or even keep on blooming when it feels like winter in our hearts.

Not all seasons of life are as glamorous as summer, but they are necessary for our development and growth.

On a lovely sunny morning after a few months of searching, I found the perfect vintage writer's desk. I resolved to give it a second, rather cozy life.

This leads me to my second point to cultivating mental peace. That is...

#2. Not chasing short lived trends. This world is designed to make us want more. New 'trends' are artificially created to make us feel like we are missing out.

There is tranquility in choosing to shop local, shop small, shop handmade, or vintage whenever possible - like the second-hand furniture shop I found on the outskirts of town just over 20 years ago and have been frequenting ever since.

Moving on...

#3. My third way to keeping mental peace is to look at things through the prism of a child.

Children are incredibly rooted in the moment, being present, without worrying about abstract or future issues. Naturally, these skills are needed in our life, but sometimes dark thoughts can draw any light away from our world.

This is when we should take an example from our children and focus on the here and now.

#4. Practicing self-care that includes physical movement is my fourth way to keeping a calm mind.

Did you know that our body can store stress and worries?

It will show up as aches and pains, stiffness, and tension.

Something as simple as daily walks with my dog help me to release physical tension which in turn alleviates my mental stress.

I'm a passionate advocate for physical movement because it cultivates self awareness and encourages kindness toward ourselves.

#5. On that vein, I emphasize self-forgiveness and avoiding overthinking.

We all have been in a situation when we did or said something out of place... or at least we believe it so.

Nothing will clutter our mind and take away our mental peace like beating ourselves over and over about the past, or often, even a small thing.

Practicing self-forgiveness and silencing an overactive mind is the way to encourage a healthier internal dialogue where calmness can flourish.

I deeply believe that our homes influence our inner state.

It's never been about having a Pinterest worthy house, but making our homes a cozy, and safe environment, and that leads me to

#6. A peaceful, uncluttered house, a clean house, acts as a buffer against external chaos, becoming a retreat where we can recharge and reflect.

In addition to aesthetics, a peaceful home environment means prioritizing surrounding ourselves with people with whom we can be ourselves and are accepted for who we are, thus living in a welcoming, nurturing environment where we feel safe, heard, respected without our boundaries being crossed.

#7. Maintaining a small, supportive circle, surrounding ourselves with a close-knit community, be it family, friends, neighbors or even kind and caring co-workers, provides emotional security and a sense of belonging which are essential elements for mental peace.

In our modern world we are becoming more and more isolated, making it all the more important to maintain real-life contact, even if its the act of exchanging a simple "hello" with a neighbor or engaging in a small chat with one of the many people who provide a service to us on a daily basis.

#8. Planning Ahead. Having some sort of plan really helps maintain a peaceful and calm mind.

Understanding our finances, knowing exactly when our bills are due, and living within our means really goes a long way in helping to put our minds at rest. The same can be said for having a clear list of any appointments and to do's.

We sleep better knowing that important dates are all in our calendar, not having to rely on committing something to memory all the time which only creates stress and mental clutter.

#9. Finally, I'd say my ninth way to seeking calm is to stay selective and stay private, choosing to stay in my lane, and in my business.

Friend, I've gotten to the point in my life where I don't care who's mad, why they're mad, and who they're actively recruiting to be mad with them.

It's peaceful over here.

Remember, whatever we're not changing, we're choosing.

I wish us many blessings, and peace.

Essays - 9 Roads To a Calm Mind - Our Journey to Balance

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total-drama-brainrot · 3 months

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Hello hello ophe 👋😇

How are you going so far? 😊

I just want to say aletrent has taken over my brain and I’m here thinking if I should make it happen for cruise stars but then I remember that I promised the fresh people in the server that AleNoah will happen. I’m here thinking to myself

“😟 damn why do you ship AleTrent? Aren’t you a AleNoah shipper? Alejandro and Trent deadass never even interacted, besides this is gonna be like the last time where you joined a fandom and got brainrotted by a crack pair/rare pair. And Noah and Alejandro’s dynamic is more interesting to write and think about. Besides brain you can shove Trent with Duncan it will be funi 😁.” -me to my Brain 😇 🧠 as I try to keep my brain cells in check

Anyways enough about me taking about stuff that doesn’t matter I finally thought of the main villain(s) for Shitwrecked and I’m really excited to write about them bitches scheming 😈 (but I kinda want to do another idea throwing session sometime again in the future, it was fun to talk and do the funi throw shit together and see what happens 😁, social interaction my enemy😔)

But as always let the brain rot commence as we speak

Lindsay and Noah friendship real tho!

Shitwrecked crap that was on my mind recently-

Emma and Trent friendship- they both are a disaster (lovingly way) one is literally a mess while the other is in the inside (I think in Trent’s bio thing it said that his sprit animal or favorite was a cat and Emma is cat person)

Nemma divorced conformation/rr cameo in a challenge and heather kissing Emma(rr)/j

leonard bringing a horse into the competition

Courtney is remind of Brittney(raccoon) when Zee brings back out lord and savior Oilvia Von Trashpanda

Topher tries to run over Chris with a golf cart

Skyella sweep! Dave becomes more emo as skyella sweep happens

Prillie divorced arc as Millie feel like priya thrown their friendship away for a guy and that priya is hanging out with Caleb more

Hear me out Trent and heather Secret alliance or some shit (I think it sounds funi to me😁) probably not go with it but it was fun to think about tho

Trent being annoy/passive aggressive to Geoff and Justin(oh how who can my favorite character be/j🤪)

Chef probably treating the reboot cast more favorably(no one can stop the Wayne)

Axel being the reason why Duncan is scared of Celine Dion cardboard standees

Gwen having to deal with her golden retriever cousins

Thinking of a scene where Emma is talking with Gwen/courtney about dating advice or something as she describes Axel (Emma doesn’t say name) “they have an eyebrow piercing and they got their ears pierced too. They are all tough as nails and abrasive but they can be surprisingly sweet and caring.” Both Gwen or/and Courtney be thinking to themselves “damn why Duncan of all people?”

Noah with the whole divorce dad look “Owen I miss my wife..”

Don big naturals/j 😈

Damn I think I kinda went a bit off with the rambles😳 brain rot do be hitting harder than the kitchen floor 😔

-Ass Stars anon

Hello hello ASAnon, it's nice to have you back! 👋😊

Alejandro and Trent are very shippable characters, so it was inevitable that someone would start seriously shipping the two despite their complete lack of canon interaction. So long as you're enjoying yourself, who's to judge?

I'm happy to hear you've figured out some of the details of your AU! It can be super hard to figure out what direction you want to take your ideas in, especially for an AU as broad and character-filled as your own.

The brainrot is real and it consumes us all. If these ideas are what make you happiest and/or are the ones that you find the most amusing, then include them in your story! Self-indulgence is half the fun of writing/drawing/creating your own AUs. 😌👍

Don's big naturals are canon though. They're a non-negotiable inclusion in any fan-content. /j

#don big naturals is going to end up as a fandom wide meme at some point. like leshawna ball. /pos #ass stars anon #replies

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unabridged-melancholies · 2 years

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So? You want to be a poet? I, the seemingly decent one, who has no mental disorder, will tell you!

Step One: Hate yourself. This is after all, you're biggest well to draw from. Listen to angsty artist, who scream at you, about how the world is worthless, and ugly, and you! Are the gift of humanity.

Step Two: Fall in love. After all, this is what all the poets do. We fall in love. We fall in love with the words that we shove down your throat, with the ink that we shove into your veins. We will romanize how awful you are. We will say, that your scars, are beautiful, that you are the sun. And baby, we are your own damn Icarus. Being on the scars, bring on the damage. Bring on the heartbreak. We will make you, immortal.

Step Three: Pretend you know everything. Pretend that you are The Giver. That every person you met, is your own little toy to fix. After all, they don't know you! They don't know that you have imaginary friends in your head, they don't know that you take a bath every night, because your therapist says, heat is used as a substitue for human contact. They don't know that you have lied more than you tell the truth. They don't know you.

Step Four: Write. Attempt to keep a journal. Not like the one that you kept until you were twelve, and then decided to destroy, because you thought it was too shallow to keep. Fabricate your memories. Put flowers in the spaces between this sentence and the next. After all, poets have no privacy when they are dead. We only have the tombs that we rot in. Write so that you are seemingly important enough for people to give a fuck about. That you were something more than a depressive, forsaken, human.

Step Five: You've been single for awhile now, you've been doing fine, so go back to them! Message them I miss you. Puck at your heart strings, so harshly that you think you might actually be dying. When she asks you why, why you've come back to fuck up her life, say that you just need closure. Bring up your favorite weapon; I was an orphan. Convince yourself that she was the only home you knew. But that now, you regret it. You don't regret coming back, oh no. You just regret that she can no longer make you feel better.

Step Six: Do something to hurt yourself, literal or not, make yourself suffer. Because after all, you destroy things best, by sinking your teeth into them. And you still cry, all these years later, because you can still taste them on the tip of your tongue. Do something to hurt yourself. Think about suicide. Tell a girl that you love her, and know that you don't mean a word of it. Tell your mother, who gave you everything, that she is no better than your junky, whore, memory of a parental, figure. Pretend you don't hear her crying down the hallway. Because this is you. This is your pain. And god be damned, if you can be cruel, while your demons are sitting on your chest.

Step Seven: Read the greats. Read Shakespeare. Pretend you don't snicker when you hear the rumors of his homosexuality. Although you yourself, think that girl from school is more than just pretty. Read Maya Angelou. You'll think that this will somehow make you absolved, of all the violations that her culture suffered, not just her body. Read

Whitman. You will be bored. But you'll bullshit yourself into thinking that you are just as influenced by the world. That nature, the quiet, could be the answer for you. Read them. Read Plath, keep The Bell Jar on your shelf. Tell yourself that you refuse to have a Buddy Willard in your life. And you'll be horrified, when you learn about how she died. But does it matter? Is it any better than you? You can't even mar your skin. But you can stand to hear your sister say, "You are the reason I used to cut myself."

Step Eight: Claim your depression. Claim your disorder. Feed your suffering. This is your out, this is your pass. This is what makes you free. You have suffered, you have broken hearts. You have stayed up for four nights. And you think, you might have almost discovered why God hates you. You made them hate themselves. You made a girl cry for a month. You watched as people drowned. You! Are their bloody icon. You are weak, and fragile, but oh my god! You can write. You are their person, you are their messiah. They are all looking to you. Asking you! They weep, and expect you to wipe away their tears. She tells you you always made your suffering mean something. You are humble, you are kind. You, who has never taken a poetry class in your life. You are the lighthouse, you are the statue over the city! You are everything! It's all for you! They lived because of you, they are indebted, they are ━.

You, are a fucking, fraud.

[Inspired From Niel Hilborn's Audiobook.] (7. 8. 17)

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narcoticwriter · 2 years

Text

What Your Favorite Genshin Impact Ship Says About You: The Narcotic Edition

Also known as: Speed-running my cancelation in 4K and High Definition with the tea, receipts, and screenshots in real-time.

If I missed any of them or you want me to do an extension of this list with your own ideas of ships and pairings, feel free to comment any of them (except the ones with children and siblings, you know the ones).

If you don't know the drill already: For legal reasons, this is a joke.

Note: If you happen to see any ships you don't like in this list for whatever reason, then that's not my problem because I don't really care.

Zhongli x Childe: You have either been around since the heyday of launch for the game or you got into it because you saw them literally everywhere you went. You also love chopsticks and may or may not ship Soukoku.

Xiao x Venti: Your copium of 'Venti saved Xiao' is running dangerously low and as such, you desperately consume the respective character's canon media and make it intertwine with the others as much as possible despite them having no correlation whatsoever.

Kaeya x Albedo: You either looked at their implied lore and said 'yup I ship it' or you took Kaeya's voice line about Albedo to the next level. You can also draw Kaeya with three strokes of a writing instrument.

Yanfei x Yelan: You believe that Yelan definitely has an 'agreement' with Yanfei to keep her off the books. You also think it's dubious for an advocate of the law to know someone who overtly skirts around it for a living.

Lisa x Jean: You think there's nothing better in this world than two hot, smart, and independent women who love each other unconditionally. You are also either a fluff fan or an angst enjoyer.

Xiao x Aether/Lumine: You believe that Xiao's canonical character development of seeing himself as a person as opposed to a weapon of war is 75% attributed to the traveler's direct involvement. You also love the hurt/comfort tag in the sum of its parts, unsavory and all.

Keqing x Ganyu: You love the 'burnt-out workaholic' and the 'live to work workaholic' dynamic more than any sane person would. You also love the idea of taking naps with your significant other after a long day.

Xingqiu x Chongyun: You love the childhood friends to lovers dynamic. You also love the trope of the trickster and their consistent victim that also happens to be their beloved and you never got over the KhunBaam dynamic.

Zhongli x Venti: You have come to the belief that Venti is the only one who can share the memory and as such, you naturally know in your heart of hearts that they are closer to each other than people think.

Kaeya x Diluc: "Alexa, play 'Daddy Issues' by Demi Lovato". You also either enjoy second chances along with a dramatic change in dynamics or you have a step-sibling kink.

Gorou x Sangonomiya Kokomi: You think Gorou is the goodest boi and you think that Kokomi thinks so too. You also get instant serotonin thinking about how cute the both of them are as individuals and then go catatonic upon thinking about them together.

Raiden Ei x Yae Miko: You were neutral on the deity and their devout worshipper dynamic, but the added flavor of being ghosted for a long time combined with shared trauma and an unholy amount of sass made you a staunch believer.

Diluc x Venti: You believe that the bard god has an attachment to his emotional support bloodlines, but that on occasion, that attachment becomes a lot more. You also believe that Venti needed another way to pay for his wine.

Arataki Itto x Gorou: Itto's voice line about Ms. Hina combined with your undying hope of a potential Ms. Hina hangout are the main reasons you dove headfirst with no questions asked. You may also be a monsterfucker, a furry, or incredibly horny.

Eula x Amber: You believe in the sunshine and the protector of sunshine dynamic and have also been on the receiving end of slander by either association or having an unpopular opinion. You are also a RWBY and/or Voltron refugee.

Yanfei x Kuki Shinobu: Not only do you have two sharp and intelligent characters, but they were also in college together in canon? You're genuinely surprised more people haven't jumped on this.

Kaedahara Kazuha x Tomo: You either love angst or you hate it with a blinding passion. You also like the idea of a couple of dudes traveling together, sharing experiences, and just vibing.

Kaeya x Rosaria: Two individuals with questionable backgrounds that just happen to be drinking buddies? You signed the fuck up as soon as it was hinted at in the game. You also think that they can ruin each other.

Albedo x Aether: You are either unbearably soft or such an angst enjoyer that the better fics don't have the hits they deserve because all of the weaker-of-willed readers were chased away by the soul-crushing angst. You may also want Albedo to 'experiment' on you as a self-insert.

Kujou Sara x Kuki Shinobu: You believe that Arataki Itto is an idiot, but you also want him to be used as a plot device to get them together. You also believe that Shinobu and Sara are actual friends and would like a friends-to-lovers scenario for them as well.

Diluc x Jean: You believe that Diluc deserves nothing but happiness and understanding and that Jean can give him both, though you bemoan the lack of genuine Jean-centric introspection in the fanbase as a whole. You are also a sucker for domesticity and the idea of having a large, happy family.

Childe x Lumine: The use of the term 'girlie' still has you by the throat to this day. You may also relish the idea of you beating the shit out of a pronounced battlesexual and renowned warrior with relative ease as a self-insert.

Sangonomiya Kokomi x Kujou Sara: The trope of the sharp and skilled strategist who really just wants to sleep and the tsundere second-in-command who doesn't know how to live on opposite sides of a conflict grabbed you by the throat and hasn't let go since.

Eula x Yanfei: You think that if one character saves another character's life that it's completely acceptable grounds to start shipping them together. You are also a believer in shared trauma.

Kamisato Ayato x Thoma: You took Ayato's line about loyalty and dogs to the next level. You also love yourself a malewife and master of the house dynamic.

Scaramouche x Mona: The one line of 'the stars are a lie' and the true realization of Mona's profession has never left you and will continue to haunt you for as long as you stick around in the fanbase.

Bennett x Razor: You are one of the most wholesome people in this fanbase. You also played that one quest with a religious fervor that concerned your loved ones exponentially with time.

Kamisato Ayaka x Yoimiya: The timeless trope of a sheltered and socially awkward person meeting a firecracker of passion with a zest for life and a lasered focus on the things they love kills you every damn time.

Arataki Itto x Kujou Sara: The dumbass rivals-to-friends-to-lovers trope has you in a tizzy. You have also gone to insane lengths to clear your name through the use of artifacts, weapons, and worldbuilding lore.

Yanfei x Hu Tao: The thought of Hu Tao getting sued by Yanfei's clients and all of the hijinks they would get into are absolutely hilarious to you. You are also a Phoenix Wright enjoyer.

Kamisato Ayaka x Thoma: You want someone to take care of Ayaka and you think that Thoma's the right one for that job. You also want Ayaka to have a suitable husband to continue the Kamisato bloodline.

Kaeya x Childe: You are into the characterization of the both of them being suave foxy individuals that flirt with each in hopes of respective infiltration, only to find that they themselves have been emotionally compromised. You also want Diluc to suffer.

Yun Jin x Xinyan: The thought of two creatives in their own specializations loving each other and cheering each other on despite opposition from either part of their lives is beautiful to you. You may also want the same for yourself.

Shikanoin Heizou x Kaedahara Kazuha: They share national origin and visions, so you put two and two together and shipped them. You also think that their discordant designs per according to other longer-standing vision users of the same element is reason enough.

Shenhe x Yelan: What's better than having a secluded hermit that eats herbs and has a natural inclination for murder and violence? The living personification of movies in 80's Hong Kong and the Persona 5 soundtrack. You also love the trope of a well-known flirt fumbling around a socially stunted person because none of their tactics work.

Albedo x Sucrose: Two nerds in respective fields loving each other in their own special way that may not make sense to outsiders has you by the heartstrings. You have also read 'Unfocused'.

Childe x Diluc: The enemies-to-lovers trope has stayed with you consistently throughout your experiences in media. You may also like hatefucking as a concept.

Eula x Rosaria: You want Eula to commit familicide and you want Rosaria to give her some pointers on how to do it. You also like hot, sexy women.

Shikanoin Heizou x Kuki Shinobu: You relish in the fact that the only positive voice line about Heizou is from Shinobu and is purely transactional in nature. You are also optimistic as to the potential that has to develop in the future.

Diluc x Thoma: Two Mondstadters who don't like alcohol are the only two reasons you need to ship them. You also like the idea of them being childhood best friends and how they traverse their relationship after more than a decade of being apart.

Beidou x Ningguang: You are Hoyoverse.

---

Requested tag: @sword-dad-fukuzawa

#genshin impact #i am not tagging all of those damn ships #i will also never be sorry for any of this #going ham #narky thinks

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booksandchainmail · 1 year

Text

Pale 4.3

I think my main takeaway from the first part of this chapter is that other people lead very different lives from me. I mean, I don't doubt that teenage parties where everyone is making out and drinking and getting stoned exist, but I've literally never heard of one. Even in college we just sat around and ate chicken nuggets and watched bad anime.

This was scary. It was scary in the same way John in that abandoned house had been scary. A person as a force of nature, angry and violent and detached from humanity enough that he was willing to hurt her. Smoke rolled out around her.

The John thing was scary to me partially because it was more mundane. Not a curse or magic taking effect, just physical violence that is supernaturally hard to fight. Also a good reminder that without tools and preparations, none of them are really capable of fighting against an above-average person.

Avery’s eyes flashed, the mist sweeping over them, in a way that made the outline and darkness of the irises stand out in even dimly lit gloom. Verona’s eyes turned purple.

I really like the different ways people's Sight manifests.

“I might’ve lied to my mom. Tanked my karma, tanked the connection breaking stuff I laid on my bag.”

did not catch this, going back to look at the chapter to see what it could have been.

ah.

“Love you!” her mom called out, as Verona climbed out. “Yeah. You too,” Verona replied, giving her mom a tight smile, before closing the door.

fuck.

Verona turned a wide eyed look to Lucy, like she’d been stung. Wary, alarmed. Verona winced, and nodded.

This chapter is really highlighting how much Verona cues off of Lucy's emotional state.

This Faerie duel thing is very neat. Not sure how I feel about how much time Lucy's been spending with Guilhelme, but I love the whole thing (drawing out the weapon, naming terms, building an arena, making a formal challenge) too much to be appropriately wary.

“We should take her to see Nicolette,” Avery said, from the far end of the fading arena.

Part of the Kennet Trio's whole deal is being more concerned with the people in their jurisdiction (and beyond) than I think the average practitioner is. With Nicolette, it's clear she didn't mean to cause harm to bystanders with her spying, but also clear that she didn't think about the unintended consequences of her actions.

And when you didn’t need us as much, with keen talent for practice, aggressive outreach to other practitioners, and a knack for investigation…

They are very good at this!

I would say you’re getting your own control. And to some, even myself to a small degree, that feels like you’re sliding into a position where you have control over us.

Basically what I was saying a bit ago, that a lot of the Others of Kennet would have preferred puppet practitioners, even if they weren't as useful.

“Miss noted him, as one of five or six considerations, to replace you three if you couldn’t see this through.”

man were they just going to work through the entire middle school. Fucked up that the backup considerations were also kids. Looks like "controllable" was an important qualification. I wonder who the others were? There's a few other classes to draw on, but based on the characters we've met, and that "outsider" seems to be important, I'd guess Pam and Gabe?

“I want you to say what you’re feeling because you look mad and I can’t take it.”

oh big mood. Just get it over with instead of letting the tension sit

I wonder if part of the reason this is hitting Verona so hard is that Lucy is maybe the only person whose good opinion she really cares about? I mean, she likes Avery, she gets along with various Others and wants to learn well, but we don't see her looking for approval from any adults/authority figures. I think in a lot of ways Lucy is who Verona bases her sense of morality and responsibility off of.

“I don’t want you to deal, I want you to be happy and good. Talk, vent. Hurt me if it means getting it off your chest. Please.”

Mixed feelings on this one. On the hand, there's "You don't have to hold back your own emotions to protect my feelings". On the other, there's "Hurt me for my mistakes if it will make you feel better". Not really sure which one this is. Don't think Verona knows either.

“I wanted to get the stuff back and get back to normal because I wanted you to be able to go back to that cabin where you were with Wallace and Mia and the others, and kiss a boy and make other friends because that’s what I really wanted out of tonight,” Verona said.

oh. 🥹

Verona’s sandals were strappy, and it looked like the edges of the straps had rubbed Verona’s feet raw, to the point there was blood. All that running around. Trying to fix things.

So. I don't think I could pick between the three girls. But as of now, Lucy and Verona's friendship is winning as my favorite.

#booksandchainmail reads pale #pale #wildbow

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josiebelladonna · 2 years

Text

okay, so not only is there a whole generation of tumblrs on here that have never posted anything, but there’s a whole subset of said tumblrs who use the default icon for their pfp. nevermind looking like a spam account for a second, are you telling me that this current generation of tumblrs is so invisible and blending into the background and they don’t even know it (nor do they seem to care because i keep seeing posts about this and it tells me that nothing is being done) that there is no sign whatsoever of their individuality, something that i’m really starting to feel inclined towards over all of the groupthink that i’ve been seeing a lot of as well?

i might be overselling but we’re supposed to be beating the algorithms and all things inhuman, especially when our ape bodies can barely keep up. seeing real people with accounts that readily pass off as spam accounts and spam accounts running amok, it’s so easy to slip into dystopian thoughts.

it’s going to come to a point where self-expression of any kind will be the exception rather than the rule. hell, we’re already on our way—we’re practically sprinting there. between this and bullshit cop-outs like “I am not an artist” and every other band fic looking identical to one another…

i’m glad that tumblr is allowing mature content on here again, i really am, because i love drawing naked boys in particular, and my heart always sings when i see kinks and explicit fic.

problem is, i have to actually look for it in the fic tags as well as the art tags again: it’s not like ao3 where it’s right in my face upon logging in. i have to dig and i kind of don’t want to because i have stuff to do, fics to write, drawings to draw.

otherwise, it’s all so safe and sanitary, like… not only do we have a whole generation of blank clones who treat this place and ao3 like just another social media hub, but you have a whole batch of people referred to as “content creators” (not artists, not writers, content creators—see my whole thing with that from the other day, you’ll understand why i use this) who treat this place and ao3 like just another social media hub and their shit like it’s going to be bought and sold. and as a result, true expression goes out the window, and someone like me is becoming more and more of a sitting duck.

i have no problem with g-rated content per se: i’ve been reading some brilliant g-rated fics in the literature and theater tags on ao3, but you know what makes them good and memorable, compared to the mass influx of ____ x reader and g-rated fics i’ve been seeing in literally every single band tag? you can feel the love. you can tell that they’re a fan and they aren’t just there because they think it’s cool or the latest thing, or they’re sanitizing the hell out of it when it’s ao3, dude, there’s no reason for it: the g-rated fics i’ve read are rated g because their fic idea warrants it. i see it (or the mature rating) in rpf and it almost always feels like they’re afraid given the controversial nature of rpf—almost. now it’s dark was rated mature, as was iron & wine, and that was because they were actual stories rather than smut-fests and i rated them accordingly. but you can tell that the author is a fan of the book or the cartoon or the play or whatever it is, so they feel more honest, like they let their hair down more. they’re a little more fearless in an odd way, too: as much of a hang-up as i have with the phrase “be yourself”, it’s always relieving to witness it before me and it makes me wish for it more in rpf. being yourself is so hard, especially now, and i want more of it.

i think that’s another thing that really irritates me about the whole ____ x reader trope, too: you make it about everyone as well as yourself, and as a result, it winds up looking like nothing (the rating becomes moot at that point, too).

i’m missing that fannish feel big time, and on here, especially. and it’s not only heartbreaking but terrifying, too. another kid who’ll never be true to herself and trumps that for fitting in and looking cool. another kid who makes her whole shtick cutesy and cottagecore and old-fashioned and there’s just something off about it. another kid who refuses to explore herself—like, really explore and audit herself—and what might tickle her fancy out of fear of looking like a creep, or she ends up like the green druidess and brags about her sexuality ad nauseam to the point of looking incredibly corny. another kid who screams and clutches at herself at the slightest mention of shipping, fanfic’s bread and butter.

what the fuck.

i want to have faith in the future—after the election results started coming in yesterday, i had a whole helping of hope and faith—but then i come on tumblr, and i’m reminded that i’m walking amongst a whole generation of ghosts rather than tumblr girls, and i really want to know who’s to blame here, too, so maybe the problem can in fact have a solution.

#text #tumblr problems #artist struggles #writers on tumblr #x reader #metallica x reader #yeah i’m tagging that and going there mainly bc of stranger things—fuck that show srsly

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wroteclassicaly · 3 years

Text

May I Taste Your Sin

(Michael Langdon x Female Reader)

Pairings : Michael Langdon x Female Reader

Warnings : Language, smut, blood, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, oral sex, blood play, & period sex.

A/N : This fic has been a loooong time coming! I’m sorry it’s taken me this long, but now that I have inspo I wanted get this out for y’all! The warnings are obviously self-explanatory, so skip this if you don’t like the contents it’s gonna contain! Michael Langdon eats human hearts, and he’s a demon, before anyone starts to fuss over this, lol. I’m sure menstrual cycles with his partner would be a dessert to him!

Enjoy! This one is pretty intense, so I’m nervous about it! I also have more installments with different characters coming in the next few days! :)

Check out where I first posted the teaser for this fic, and check out these period sex headcanons I wrote for Michael!

~*~

He keeps staring at you. You try to move about, do your tasks, even attempt conversation with people you’d tried so hard to avoid these past several years. Your abilities to function like the human being that you are, seemingly vanish whenever the tall honey blond is within your exhausted proximities. You aren’t sure if you’d like to let out the loudest echoing scream and see where it ends up in this place, or let your wildest carnal urges guide your hormones into a literal sticky situation. Or, at the very least, let yourself fantasize about seducing him in your own self-created version of reality.

You’ll have to settle on the latter, unfortunately. Pocketing the cream colored dish rag, you place the last row of finely printed novels on the book shelve. Your fingertips linger, attempting to find a portal through their leather cover tops. Your tongue slicks your parched lips, neck stretching to crack out the tension. You aren’t trying to do anything but stealing some relaxation, when a largely hot hand is pressing a knot-out in a knead on your shoulder - clasping, settling a risky purchase.

You don’t have to make an educated guess to know whose hand that belongs to. He practically spews out his control and ownership of this place every chance that he gets. Biting down a venomous sigh, you coerce yourself into a turn around - gathering an eyeful of Langdon’s fancy black vest. That’s not good enough for the King, apparently, as he fits his pointer finger underneath your chin in a tuck, thumb pressing against your jaw to tilt your gaze to his own.

“Did you forget your manners, Miss Y/L/N?”

The way his shining eyes are sizing your attention, captivating your unwillingness to comply to how Langdon makes you feel - it can’t be humanly possible, can it? There’s that possessive ache that begs you to launch ownership over him and his entire body. Why is everything so widely dramatic whenever he’s around? Is he just full of himself or is it something way more than you’re aware? A crackling parch winds its pathway around your throat, sealing your breath in.

Nothing comes from between your lips. You’re frozen solid, legs a weightless press. Each touch this... man brings upon your body is like a bass thump - pumping you towards his secretive rhythm. All you can do is sway with the beat. Langdon smirks coyly, his other hand resting behind his back in an idle grace.

Neither of you dare utter a word. However, Langdon is seemingly content in making you squirm and you try to focus on everything but his perfectly crafted jawline, and how eagerly you’d suck on it if asked. You swear you can hear your heartbeat galloping off, so strong that it can tear your heart right out of your chest along with it. His colorful eyes glance over you in a brief stamping sweep, lingering at your sore breasts and your waistline.

What is he even doing...?

“Excuse me, but Ms. Venable did not authorize any private conferences with the help.” A cold and steel - grasped voice chills your bones down, dusting your cheeks with a reddening humiliation.

You haven’t even so much as spoken to Langdon, yet it feels like you two have been clawing and scratching at each other all over this fucking outpost, riding one another until you can’t fathom walking upright. You still can’t speak, but Langdon takes care of that for you.

“Interesting, and did Ms. Venable give you permission to waltz in here when you weren’t requested or required, just to give a meaningless order?” Langdon is mildly amused in his question, his hand still paused on your chin, thumb now swiping in a tickling drop with his fingertip - along your jaw.

Ms. Mead looks comical in her brief attempt at forming a snappy comeback, only to go silent in defeat. You take this tension as your escape line - quickly edging from the sacred confines Langdon has built for you two, and you all but run out the door. You’re clutching your shirt collar, punching a two pounce path up the staircase and to the help’s quarters.

Chores now, panic later.

~*~

Five minutes. Five fucking minutes in this place that you’ve served without question, complaint, for nearly two years - is all you want. But as the heavy handed rasps of Mead’s knuckle bones beat on your bathroom door, you know that is a simple pipe dream. Her low voice is harsh with you, making your headache unfold into a full blown migraine. You shift uncomfortably, knees knocking together, thighs sore against the cool porcelain seat below you.

Langdon must’ve massively pissed her off... Good.

Your palms collect purchase to your cradle your face, your eyes glistening with tears, throat burning with frustration. It hurts too much to stand upright this time. Normally women would lose this in stressful situations. Add the apocalypse and barely eating, you’d peg it normal to receive nothing. However, your predicament is much worse, fucking you over once more.

Your body welcomes Mother Nature each month. Unpredictable, yet there. Heavy, excruciating. You could list on and on reasons that don’t amount to much. You’re stuck with a part of you that won’t ever come to fruition.

Not in your former life, especially not in this one. Another reminder that carries an award winning irony. Sighing, you peer down at the red dish rag you were given. Literally on the rag, what a joyous harmony. The elites of course, are given the tampons and pads.

You have to use scraps of fabric you’re forced to wash in the bathtub if you move too fast or sneeze. And on your heavy days when you haven’t the time to stop your duties to wash and air out the towels, things are much harder. At least before the apocalypse you had chocolate, feminine products, a warm shower to take your time in, movies to curl up with, and a place of your own to cry where no one could hear you. You sniffle, hormones locking down your heart.

Most recently the outpost had welcomed the cooperative leader Langdon. He had interviewed everyone but you, uninterested, only flustering you a few times. Him being here just makes your period a more unwelcome storm. This morning as you were passing him on the landing of the staircase, delivering the bath towels to elite rooms, he stared at you. Right into you, nostrils flaring, tongue rolling out to slick his plump lips, blue eyes darkening.

Then there was this afternoon. How could I forget...?

The encounters were over quicker than they took place. Still, his acknowledgment of you didn’t bring your interview, nor did it promise your application for the sanctuary he preaches about. Forcing your tears to bank, you stand with your dress skirt and apron held up, staring at the stained rag in your panties. You turn and flush the toilet, eating back around to the shock of your fucking life. There, just feet in the from the doorway, is Langdon in all his glory.

It makes you swallow harshly, stomach drawing off the butterflies that have grown claws. You feel winded. His ring covered fingers bring an object to your sights. A thinly wrapped stick. You don’t answer, you don’t move, you don’t protest him approaching until he’s directly in front of you.

“What do you think you’re doing?” You try, a mere whisper betraying your bravery.

“Helping you,” He answers simply, a heated slide crossing his mouth. You can practically taste him, damn near swaying forward.

You start to snap back into your senses, ready to cover your remembered modesty back up. He grasps your wrist, a hungry look soft in his features. “Will you let me?”

You’re shaking, body on fire at him touching you, you try to keep your legs from clenching, that want. You know what will occur if you let yourself. He is gentle with you, admiration clear. Why? You don’t understand this.

“You’re bleeding, I know.”

Jaw unhinged, you stand upright, his fingers still ghosting your skin. An unlucky movement on your part, the warmth spills from you and you look down between your thighs in horror at the red lines running down your legs, pattering against the floor. Langdon is breathing heavily, practically panting, stunning you once more. His other hand grips your cheek, thumb swiping your lip, eyes not breaking contact from yours.

“Do you know how good your cunt smells? Every pathetic person in this outpost is starving and you have the best meal between your fucking legs.”

When your silence stretches on, Michael nudges forward, careful with you. “May I feast?”

It’s all too much to handle. Having him talk to you, you speaking to him. And now this? How? You begin to grow dizzy, hands trembling as you try to pull your clothing back up. Langdon’s hands grip your wrists.

“Please don’t do that.”

You want to stun him incredulously, backhand him. None of that is happening, not even the urge. Instead, your want for him is magnifying beyond any feigned ignorance. Your tongue slides out across your lips, teeth biting down on your bottom lip in a brisk chew. Langdon hooks his middle finger between your teeth, releasing your lip and combing the blood across in a coppery gloss.

Your chest is startled, rising and falling in quivering quakes, ears hearing a static rush. Everything inside of you is alive and crying out in need to be sated. Langdon grips you around the waist, lowering his forehead to rest atop your own, his middle finger - still doused in your blood - slithers past his own lips, which close in a sticky suckle. A vibrating moan pummels his throat, causing a constricting swallow that showcases his Adam’s apple.

If I could only just lick that...

Langdon is sly and devilishly cunning to a fault - fast in his next movements. He presses a designer boot down over your skirts, successfully preventing them from being made up. “Leave them here for someone else.”

“I... I can’t. This is too much, Langdon —“ He chuckles at the formality.

“Since I can see your womanhood running from between your legs, I suppose it’s only fair that we skip some formalities, don’t you agree, Y/N?” Your eyes are probably wider than necessary - a cartoon like sight. He’s used your full name in an authoritative command, leaving no room for question. “And you may call me Michael.”

It’s all a little more frantic from this point. He gives the slightest of information, and you see your skirts and panties gliding across the floor in a winded push. Michael brings that wrapped item back into your eye-line. “We won’t be needing this for a while.”

“I didn’t say yes.” You try, swallowing a weak, whimpering stifle.

“But you didn’t say no, did you?” That shit eating grin. He has you and he is all too aware - elated to the brimming brimstone of hellfire you’re about to bestow upon yourself.

Your insides melt into the trenches of red hot, raw ravishment. Michael drops his left arm down, hand palming his hardening cock through black slacks, eyes encouraging you in a chained bind. “Let’s go and make a mess in my room.”

Now or never. No more of this, back to reality, maybe some place better. You’re spinning in a foiling encasement, precipice wide and open - hungry to pull you under. And you dive in, you let it all go. Michael looks satisfied, sharing something with himself that you don’t know... yet.

Taking Michael Langdon’s hand, you’re led into the unknown.

~*~

Langdon leads you down his own separate corridor, your free hand scolded for trying to hold yourself over your uniform.

“I want you to make a mess.” Michael says.

You hope that you’re not the one who will be paying the cost for your own said mess, or cleaning it up. If it’s up to Venable - you’ll be licking it, all the way to her high heeled boots.

Once inside the confines of Michael Langdon’s bedroom, you take the time to look around, enjoying the perks this situation is bringing. The room isn’t any different than what the purple elites get here, it is bordering on a more... lived in feel, which is ironic when you consider that Langdon hasn’t been here like everyone else has for the past three years.

Guess he’s just more comfortable? He does look like an English vampire half the time..

On that note, a particularly harsh cramp antagonizes your uterus, causing you to clench your abdomen, choking out a acidic slice. “Fucking demonic cramps.”

Michael - now clad in his all black ensemble, minus the overcoat - chortles, knotting his fingers together behind his back and strolls forward, wetting his lips as the firelight crackles a sparking soundtrack. “It’s ironic how you refer to it as “demonic”, when Satan really has nothing to do with this. I mean, it’s not on him that humanity failed their pitiful guidelines for sobering temptation. Wasn’t it your lord and savior that bestowed this curse upon you?” He finishes, giving a head tilt to your unhinged stun.

“Are you religious?” Is all you can come up with.

Michael sneers, looking slightly offended. It fades seconds later. “Depends on your definition of religious, and then there is what one believes in. But I guess you can say that I’m devoted to... a certain cause.”

“Were you this mysterious before the apocalypse, or is that why the cooperative gave you the job?” You try, a discomfort crackling at your inner thighs.

They’re probably smeared... And not just with blood.

“I bet you’re uncomfortable.” Michael teases, snapping his fingers at the fireplace. Did your eyes betray you, or did the flames flicker?

You want to give a snappy comeback, but it feels unwise. You nod like the sap that you are, nails biting your palms. Your heartbeat has begun to accelerate, a visible sight beneath your apron. Langdon guides himself to step in front of you, leather shoes drumming across the floor beneath. Every sound in this forsaken room is flowing through your eardrums - Michael’s scent on the tip of your tongue.

You need him. More than your body has to have the air that filters underneath this mausoleum. You’re so unsteady, eyes brimming with the smoking arousal, blocking common sense. Michael catches you as you collide with his chest, wrapping your fists into his vest. His blue irises are disappearing to a canyon of night sky - lavish black so sinful that it steals the breath from your lungs.

Drizzling off your tongue is a hesitation. “Won’t we get into trouble...? Venable -“ Those rough fingertips hold a softness that hushes your lips, denting.

“Can watch me with my face buried into your cunt. The humiliation will arouse her.” Michael answers in his own finish.

You aren’t sure why, but that grates your mouth into a sneaky grin, shared with Michael’s, sensing that slapping throb at his phrases. He pinches your chin, nuzzling your head to the side, his lips sloping a map across your neck. His towering physique backs you by knocking his knees into your thighs, delivering you to the edge of his bed. You drop like wild weights, looking towards the ceiling, trying to take a deep inhalation. Langdon crouches, pants rustling as they tighten around his temptingly thick thighs.

He tuts in a scold, chiding you furthermore. “You will watch what I’m getting ready to do to you! Is that clear, Y/N?”

You don’t answer fast enough, Michael’s hand wrapping around your throat, eyes burning hellfire through you - dusting your bones to ash. Your throat is wet with the clingy, unshed tears. Fuck, you have to be filled up until you’re hollowed out. Michael is languid in grace, hand toppling into your lap, joining his other.

“Take down your hair, Y/N.”

Like a puppet, you obey your new owner. Unwrapping the pointed bun, you shake your locks free, sighing in an eased tickle.

“What a good and obedient girl that you are. Those who obey, shall reap the riches.”

“Why are you doing this?” An ignorant question on your part.

“Because,” As if it’s the most simple answer in this broken world, Michael let’s his hands start to unbutton his vest, carelessly sending it, his attention not wavering off you in the slightest. “I’m hungry.”

A literal moan comes from you, making Langdon hiss through his through his milky white teeth. He resumes his former position, hovering.

“Spread.” Michael says, a quaint wonder adorning him, his palms sliding up and down your legs to feel you part them. The blood is mixing some fucked out potion with your creamy arousal for him, and he knows it, has it right into your tremble from the exposure.

Your skin is steaming in scrapes, responding so vulgarly to Michael, that he is hooking his wrists under your knees, bouncing the flesh into his awaiting hands, and claiming. He hoists your legs over his shoulders to arch you to his idea of perfection. You should be protesting, in a shambled shyness. That is gone, no place here. Michael let’s his nose rest in the crease of your thigh, crudely sniffing like some beast.

His sopping tongue finds a striking stroke along your ruby red, damp thigh.

Closer... He’s getting closer...

When you can’t feel that warm and snide air he possesses, you lock to load a question. Michael is shedding himself of his remaining clothing in a cocky crawl. His hair curtains his face as he sees you seek out his cock - thick and heavy, weighted and wet with pre-cum.

“Finish taking off your clothing.” You’ve never done something so fast in your years alive.

You have to admit, being so vulnerable like this - naked and bleeding, it has you buzzing.

Michael outstretches a veined forearm, the back of his rings swirling in desiring dances across your breasts. “Do these hurt?”

Your lashes are slicked in perspiring tears, the tired soreness harassing your chest. He has his truth. His trim form bows to you once more, placing your legs back where they belong. He knuckles a pressing push into your abdomen. “Bear down.”

It isn’t an accident this time, it’s not a discreet secrecy. Michael wants you this way. All of you. Finding a confidence, you give yourself a high and sink your fingers into his hair, toes tickling his shoulder blades in a forwarding nudge, doubling down on your muscles. That warmth spills out of you and Langdon takes you, tongue parting your swollen folds. He regulates his tongue in wet paints, licking and sucking everything you give him.

“Please—“ You’re already begging. It’s so fucking intense and intimate that you can’t formulate your own damned name.

“Are you really going to ask, or would you just like to feel good?” Michael vibrates, his mouth visible and shining crimson as he seeks you out between your slippery thighs.

It’s outright feral. His irises are coal black, blue lost in some combing canyon that’s crumbled around sin. His digits prod at your sensitive opening, being accepted moments later. His lips close over your clit, tongue slithering back and forth to assist his beckoning fingers. He gathers more from you - his purpose.

That quenched fold starts to seize you early on, your pattering breaths signaling the orgasm that is about to tear the screams from your fucking diaphragm. Michael’s hand smacks and rolls your swollen breast - permission granted. That’s all it takes and you’re falling back onto the mattress, back arching in a lined drag, pussy flattening against his mouth. He jerks you impossibly closer, your vision whiting out into dark spots. You tangle your fingers further into his luscious strands, holding, pulling.

In the midst of close recovery, Michael is plowing you with a short lived let down, his mouth leaving your pussy. You can’t complain, no time available, as his hips slot in a frazzled fit between your legs. His pelvis is tense, sheathed in sweat. His chest smashes your breasts, his hand reaching down to guide his cock inside you. You can’t speak, but cling tightly to his back. He growls a sound that you’ll never forget, the fire bursting behind him, flames licking the rocked cove that houses them.

His mouth is covered in your essence, your cunt bathing his dick with each violent thrust. It’s pouring in drenches, salty perspiration, pooling blood - both of you losing yourselves in the mess. Michael props himself up, digging into a dipping slam, meeting your mouth in an ending kiss. His hair tickles your shoulders, nose nudges your now blood caked mouth, and he gives the warning.

“Spill your fucking curse all over me!” And you come undone, glued to him in puzzled entrapment.

Your thighs are wrecked, his bedsheets useless, and then there’s Michael, who forces you to look at him and really see him. There’s only black in his eyes. You sputter a disbelief, bracing. His mouth parts, tongue flicks across to gather more, leveling off into his jagged movements. He swells inside your cunt, dousing your walls in his warm cum.

He doesn’t leave you, not even when it’s over. He simply takes you with him. You aren’t sure where you get the courage to speak - body shaking and shivering.

“What... Michael, who are you?”

He cups a hand over your cunt, rolling onto his side, keeping you held to him. He lightly blows away a pesky lock of your hair, then maneuvers another behind your ear.

“I’m the man who’s going to save your wretched existence.”

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