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twisted-dreamscape · 4 months

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Twisted Wonderland

Reader with Magic from Another World

One of my favourite concepts to play around with in Twisted Wonderland is the idea that by their world’s standards the prefect doesn’t have magic, but comes from a world with a different magic system—I can be a bit lenient with how some systems work more than others. For example:

Winx (Believix, ‘cause it’s a magic for fairies in places where people do not believe in magic-in this case it’s the specific brand of magic the prefect uses)

No one believed you. Your rounded ears and distinctly human eyes and teeth did nothing to help your case—forget your apparent lack of magical capabilities. It was no surprise that not a single person believed you when you claimed to be a fairy. You found that for some reason, you were unable to transform in this world, which made it impossible to prove you were a fairy if you were entirely unable to transform into one. But you remained determined, and what abilities you retained outside of your core transformation, namely visions of people’s past and visions of the great seven, helped you carve a different place in this world regardless. Through your efforts, insights and general willingness to help others, enough people started to believe there was at least something more to you.

It’s in a moment of crisis, when your selflessness sees you placing yourself in harm's way, taking a risk that was not asked of you and leaving the boy you protected racked with guilt.

While the others were fighting back the Titan Earth, another phantom charged at Epel from the shadows. There was no room for the others to act, but you could. You raised the weapon you swiped before descending into Tartarus and slashed and stabbed at the creature, but it held your weapon in its fading body while another went careening into you, knocking your little scuffle over the edge.

The seniors could only listen on as you fell, the phantom before them leaving no room for distraction. When the Titan was pushed back, it was already too late.

“You said you were a fairy, you said you could fly, you said you were a better flier than me. Then, fly!” Epel stood rooted to the spot where you stood, but despite what they saw, he, Rook and Vil wanted to believe you were something more, something that could survive that hit, survive that fall and the Titan that followed; it was then that you were able to unlock your Believix wings.

It was a whole new form you had never encountered in your dimension, but you once heard of fairies from Alfea that restored magic in a long separated planet. It felt good to access your magic again, even though you may never reach Enchantix as long as you were stuck here, you were still happy you could help out your friends—it also felt good to prove everyone else wrong.

With your newly gained powers you were able to participate in classes like your other classmates, but only when transformed, unlike at home, which was…an experience. Flight class was especially interesting since you didn’t particularly need a broom, even less so if you wanted to fly quickly. Application of lessons weren’t exactly a one-to-one application but they inspired you to try things you had yet to study in your home dimension. Maybe with practice you could one day be strong enough to open a way between your worlds.

Fairy Tail (It’s funnier if the prefect is some form of Dragon-slayer)

“HOW DARE YOU!” Sebek immediately placed himself between you and Malleus, although more troubling was the way Silver followed his lead; but even worse yet was the look of hurt that settled on your friend’s face. It was one thing to title yourself a dragon slayer, but to withhold this fact and sneak your way into his good graces…evil. You were ecstatic when you learned your friend was a dragon—‘a kindred spirit’ you thought—so you eagerly revealed what you are.

Malleus was silent and Sebek was anything but, chastising your horrid character, while Silver hoped you would change your ways. You hurriedly explain what a 1st generation dragon slayer is in your world—a human trained in the ways of a dragon—and that you were in fact raised by said dragon! And Malleus was now also ecstatic! Although Sebek was still wary, Malleus needed to know everything about you and your draconic parentage! He’s surprised by how limited your magic is compared to his, but just as surprised that you can eat the element you’re limited to! He consoles you over the disappearance of your parental figure and welcomes you as family.

The age old question of your guild has been answered, “Do fairies have tails?” Yes, some. You marvel at Malleus’ when he shows you his beautiful tail. He’s a fairy, but a Dragon-fairy, he’s everything you ever wanted to meet. Your friendship has further deepened now that you’ve learned this and now he wants to know more about your guild as well.

You are able to learn magic like your classmates, but you don’t have a need for a mage stone, in fact, you don’t really ‘get’ them. Some hold magic like lacrima, but the more common ones seem to be glorified filters.

*Crystal Dragon slayer

Ruggie also takes a particular interest in you, chiefly your ability to consume ANY crystal, including something as common as glass—however this interest quickly wanes when he realizes you can’t teach him to do the same; that doesn’t stop him from trading your lunch set for a washed soda bottle. While you are interested in the crystals that Grim has been eating, even you find that there’s something gross about the murky stones, despite his tantalizing descriptions. That’s all fine to him, he wasn’t gonna share anyway.

Ojamajo Doremi

The P.E uniform for Night Raven College was a practical jumpsuit. The students took pride in styling it in a way that best suited them, even you were fortunate enough to find an older iteration, in the attic of Ramshackle dorm, that you wore like your friend’s. It was comfortable enough, when you got to wear it—that is, outside of flight lessons.

You always made an effort to transform before class, in the empty locker room, behind some bushes, anywhere but the open field, but some days, you were late. Some days you were laughed at by every single classmate as you rushed to pull on your monochrome costume before the song ended. But they could eat your sparkly dust.

Some time had passed since you received your crystal ball and returned your witch to her true form. You were crossing over from the human world to visit her when you woke up…here.

You were a full fledged witch, and your magic proficiency was at least greater than that of the average third year, but there was SO MUCH you didn’t know about this world. Surprisingly, attending this school was exactly what you needed to gain that knowledge, so while you’re still not sorted into an official dorm, you remain as something of an interdimensional student.

In light of your advanced skill level, you and Grim are not a single student, but he is still accepted as your sole dorm mate—given that you keep watch over him.

With your fairy beside you, you wonder if he could possibly be the same if he’s not a cat—a fairy without a witch that transformed into this direbeast.

Mew Mew Power (Seismic Cymbals)

You entered their world with nothing but their ceremonial robes and your power pendant. It was your only treasure and only link to your world, but there was no need for it as a janitor, right?

You kept it close regardless, nearly activating it when a wild tanuki began rampaging and again when a certain red headed jerk instigated a chase that would have been much easier when transformed—but you resisted. In the end, it was only when the monster of the magic stone mine began swinging its pickaxe that you took your stand. You held off as long as possible, even uniting your ragtag group into a fairly solid plan, but when the monster finally shook off the cauldrons, you transformed and pulled Deuce out of the way, and with the monster far enough away from the cave, you summoned your seismic cymbals and collapsed it into a crevice you opened beneath it. For the most part, teamwork did win the day, and you are still dubbed a beast tamer, but your magicless status was mostly revoked.

As you are unable to actually cast spells you are still unable to participate in most magical lessons and require Grim to cover that aspect of your grade, however, in very specific instances you are able to transform and flaunt your stuff.

From then on, the nature of your species comes into question, as a person who occasionally exhibits beast man traits on occasion, even outside of your transformation.

Persona (a blend to incorporate more features)

*It’s kind of funny how neatly the concept of Overblots connect with Shadow Selves

You were raised in a facility that studied pscience and how shadows and personas manifested and affected the world around it. You have an encyclopedic knowledge on past events where students much like you, were faced with extremely traumatic experiences and forced to take on very adult responsibilities. Despite this, your concept of reality feels distorted when you first call upon your persona in this world. In one sense, it’s reassuring to have access to your persona in this foreign space, but concerning if it’s based on similar rules to that of Tartarus or the TV world—who knows how twisted this world REALLY is and how much time you have!

Under what conditions were you brought here, and why have none of the Overblot victims been able to call upon their Phantoms as Personas after they’ve reverted? They’re basically shadows, right? It seems there’s more to it than you first believed, maybe when the Styx facilities are operational again you can study this power of yours in relation to the victims they kidnapped—with their permission.

As a student, you’re able to display some ‘magic’ by switching between personas. You share many of the same elements and even display some ‘new’ ones that have an effect akin to that of a unique magic. Your healing capabilities are immaculate and you’re one of the greatest talents in the school, but when you overdo it, you are prone to passing out, so be wary.

*Conversely

Despite being able to call upon your persona in this plain, it seems none of your peers can perceive it. Malleus and Lilia seem to be able to sense a separate, but connected presence beside you and Leona claims to smell something that is not quite human, but that’s as far as it goes.

Many are shocked by the grand feats of ‘magic’ that you can utilise without a wand or accumulating blot! But you can’t help but recall the Dark mirrors claim, “Soundless. Colourless. Shapeless. Utterly vacant.” A Joker by any other name.

*Anti-Shadow Suppression Unit (Like Aigis)

“Woah! You’re ANCIENT!”

“Brother!”

“But her design is so MID!”

You’re a robot designed to look human, but in so many areas it's obvious you’re not human, unlike Ortho, whose more techy features are intentional, yours stemmed from an inability to properly hide all your ‘additional’ features. Maybe it’s because you’re not human, but Idia is quick to get up close to you, poking and prodding, practically ready to tear you apart, but unlike Ortho (at the time), you have free will and quickly shut down his behavior. You have such a strong personality because initial tests of models before you emphasized the necessity when designing a weapon like you to have a powerful persona.

At the beginning, you found yourself actively distancing yourself from Ortho, who you felt was imitating being human, unlike you, and you wanted to avoid being compared to him as much as possible. And yet, you find yourself drawn to the Shroud brothers; the elder one somehow being more comfortable around you than he would be with a human and the younger one being fascinated in meeting another ‘person’ like him—it is your interactions that spark his sense of self.

As you grow to trust them, you do allow Idia to run some updates on you, after you analyze the changes to be made. You find your processing power to be faster and more precise, he even improves on your orgia mode, allowing you more control—if only slightly. Besides your robotic existence, Idia finds himself bonding with you over your predetermined futures. As the heir of Styx his role in life has already been decided for the sake of others, while your entire existence was designed to fight these ‘shadows’ for the sake of others. Neither of you are particularly interested in changing this reality, but rather living as best you can within its confines. You tell him about the shows and video games in your world, especially the best series ‘Featherman’ a major loss for this world not having it—at least you guys can watch the episodes you ‘recorded’.

When Ortho finally gains his ‘heart’ you two become the best of friends! You want to know everything about him and are more eager to share how your own awakening came to be. It’s a strange experience for him, but a welcome one and you’re happy to help him in these times.

Skullgirls

They are extremely concerned! What do you mean you have a parasite? Are you okay? Do you need antibiotics or something? You quickly explain that’s not what you take for parasites and that it’s not that type of parasite. You introduce your friends to a creature that’s attached itself to you and further elaborate that it’s technically not harmful to you—right now. Those who do hear your little aside simply overlook that detail. You explain that it’s not an especially uncommon phenomenon.

With the aid of your parasite you mostly take on the role of support in battles, in order to avoid harming the sentient attackers. Your parasite is POWERFUL, a little too powerful to attack a person—save for restraining or tossing them—if you want to see them walking again, so you refrain. It’s an ancient figure that bonds well with Lilia for some reason and attracts the intrigue of the octotrio—especially Azul for…reasons.

Are they crazy? Genies? An entire festival dedicated to wish making? You are horrified by the prospect of so many being brought up on the idea of consequence free wishes. You give them a brief history of the skull heart (A heart…of bones? Shut up Ace), where you were raised, no one would even dream of using it, at least not out loud, on account of the generations of horrors suffered by the land and people. You have regular discussions with Professor Trein and Riddle on the Heart and the wars fought for it and because of it. Azul on the other hand is more interested in the details of the wishes and their fallouts, you can only hope he doesn’t use it as a guide—he reminds you of the Medici mafia. For the first time, you find yourself giving some attention to the wishes you silenced long ago.

Bayonetta

“So…you’re naked?”

You explain that your hair is your clothing. Ace claps back that could be said for most people, but they’re still naked—the school requires that you wear the uniforms provided to classes. In the end, you get a top hat and solidify that nudity and a statement piece is the dorm uniform of the Ramshackle dorm.

You have yet to perform a traditional Umbra Witch summons, apart from the fact it would be way too embarrassing, you understand that you’re still young and not ready to put your schoolmates or your eternal soul on the table because Leona doesn’t wanna play nice with the other kids. You are however quite adept at the summons written about in school texts, the cost is lower and open to a little personal flair.

Meanwhile, your weapon handling is undeniably masterful! Beanfest would have been in the bag if your blaster hadn’t stalled at the last second! Lilia is so amazed by your versatility that he gifts you one of his old weapons from his armory—just keep this a secret between you two.

You auditioned for the VDC, on your own, but your moves were a bit…mature for a school performance (Beauté 100 points!). But, as manager your insight has greater value, you help Deuce and Epel loosen up and introduce some…’flexibility’ to their movements.

Shugo Chara

‘All kids hold an egg in their souls, the egg of our hearts, our would-be selves, yet unseen.’

You were able to see them, but yours had never manifested one in your world—your heart’s egg. Because of your special vision you were an unofficial guardian, so you were privy to some information on them, but you had always craved the impact that having your own would have on your life.

It’s shortly after Riddle’s Overblot that you and Grim awake to an egg with the silhouette of a crow on it in your bed! Grim has NO idea what it is, and leaps from the bed! He is a dire beast and it’s your job to teach him about human things, so you kindly explain it, meanwhile in your mind, of course a house warden would understand it! After everything you had seen them do, this should not be new! You eagerly show it off to all your new friends…only for them to be just as bewildered as Grim! Ace even teases you about having painted an egg for such a lame prank, Deuce bombards you with questions and observes like one would a newborn child, while Riddle quickly searches for medical references—maybe you're actually fae! The fae scentiment is one that also intrigues your horned friend after you show him your egg, he even graciously offers to supply it with magic in your place!

Your chara doesn’t reveal itself until after you defeat Azul. It’s so cute in its little feather cape and hoodie—a mysterious look for such a sweet thing. Oddly enough, EVERYONE in the school can see your chara—you were kind of hoping to play some invisible tricks, but this is okay too—you wonder if it’s a magic thing.

Your chara is so observant, calm and collected. It likes to help people, so there are times when it strays leagues from you in an effort to do so! Azul initially liked it because many enjoyed seeing the adorable little creature—which was great for business, AND FREE! But, over a series of chats, he found that he maybe, sorta, kinda appreciated its understanding and kindness, and he would maybe, sorta, kinda punish anyone who would bring it harm—a sentiment shared by many others.

You can’t help but feel that your coming here was undoubtedly the impetus for this growth.

Your chara change is a broach with what appears to be a mage stone similar to the one Grim has, but decorated with raven feathers. You find that in those times when you ‘change’, you embody the essence of maturity, your insight increases too and you just…get it.

It’s during the Vil’s overblot that you awaken to your chara transformation. Your midnight wings are functional and your black and gold outfit is reminiscent of an opulence not unlike that of the ceremonial robes or even the fairest queen—this extravagant display only further angers Vil. You hold a key blade or key wand and mirror shield in your arms that are sufficient for your amateur level. You’re still new to it, but together you’re able to talk Vil down and support the rest of the NRC Tribe in knocking him back to his senses.

By the time Styx attacks, you have some control over your transformation and the powers that come with it, but you’re still not on the level of the housewardens or even the third years, and like the others, you fall.

When the gate to the underworld is under siege you discover that your key can be used to buff and debuff. For some of the weaker phantoms, you’re able to dissipate their lingering negative emotions, erasing them entirely, while for the stronger ones you boost the potency of your friends’ spells.

Splatoon (Octoling, because Azul)

The first thing they noticed was your eyes, and your pupils' infinity shape. It's not until you remove your hood that they REALLY realize you are NOT human—nice tentacles, I guess. At first, it’s kinda weird to the humans, fae and beastmen, but the merfolk, they are fascinated! Especially Azul.

You describe yourself as an octoling—a descendant of ancient octopuses. You are NOT a mermaid, you are entirely unable to participate in Book 3 as is, but he is interested in you all the same. Before the dorm, you have something else to offer Azul. You are insanely fashionable and your voice is immaculate—and he wants control over it all. You offer your performing services to him should you miss the deadline, but you have a much more valuable skill you ‘failed’ to mention.

After having successfully booted you and your crew, Azul notices paint (ink?) in his office! It’s made such a mess! It’s gotten everywhere! All the way up to the vault!

The moment he opens the vault…you leap from the ink, grab a stack of contracts and jump back in! He is stunned for a moment, and even after he comes to his senses he has no idea how to explain what he needs the staff to do. And then you’re gone.

Through certain occurrences, Azul still overblots. You’re able to relate to him after what the Octolings had been through, and what they had done. You reassure him that things were on a positive trajectory when you left and tell him his tentacles are pretty.

Hunter x Hunter (Nen, Specialist)

You have a distinct presence to you that just can’t really be defined. There are times when the simple act of you turning causes aggressors to flee and other times where you're almost imperceptible—even to Rook! You introduce yourself as a hunter, presenting your license with great enthusiasm and the man is smitten! In his eyes, you’re a beauty like no other! As a hunter himself, he wants to know everything about you and everything about the test you underwent to attain that license! He is one of the select students who seem to be unconsciously manipulating Nen.

Another person who has a significant interest in you is Lilia, when you first exited your coffin you made sure everyone in the vicinity knew to stay far from you; your Ren surged forth before you even stepped out, just enough to warn those in the room, unfortunately Lilia was in the room. You were VERY lucky that nothing came of it in that moment, or rather you both were. However, since that occurrence, he’s had his eye on you. From time to time you can feel him exerting a little Ren himself, but someone as cute and kindly as him wouldn’t bring his sweet underclass man and ward’s first friend harm right…RIGHT!?

Initially it came as a shock that magic wasn’t at all related to Nen, but a different practice altogether. So, there are still limits to what you can do in this school for aspiring mages, but not many. In fact, there are some feats that you perform that have people questioning your species!

You explain that your Nen ability could be likened to that of their unique magic. Yours is known as True Heart’s Reflection, it allows you to peer into impactful moments of your target’s past with the caveat that the detail of the visions are directly linked with how greatly they weigh on the target in the moment (every flashback and vignette/story moments that are referenced but the prefect technically wasn’t there for).

I feel like there’s still more that could be done with this, but that’s for another day or even another writer 🤗

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mariana-oconnor · 8 months

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The Veiled Lodger pt 1

Sorry I'm late to this one. Last night I had to bake a cake and it went wrong and then I had to try to rescue it and that went wrong so I had to try and rescue it in a different way and by that time it was past my bedtime and I am old and need sleep. Also, don't trust recipes. They lie.

Not that you really needed to know any of that, but yeah, blame the cake.

ANYWAY, back to the actual purpose for me gathering you all here today.

Which I assume is going to involve a lodger who wears a veil, but don't quote me on that.

When one considers that Mr. Sherlock Holmes was in active practice for twenty-three years, and that during seventeen of these I was allowed to co-operate with him and to keep notes of his doings

Alright, I assume we cut out the years when he was 'dead'... They started working together in 1881, so he stopped work in 1900? (was he gone two years or three, I forget. 1900/1901). That's not a particularly long career. Must be nice to be able to retire that early and still have enough money to have Watson as a kept man.

I don't know why I am bothering to try and work this out... time means nothing here.

I may say that the writers of agonized letters, who beg that the honour of their families or the reputation of famous forbears may not be touched, have nothing to fear. The discretion and high sense of professional honour which have always distinguished my friend are still at work in the choice of these memoirs, and no confidence will be abused.

Really, Watson, we've had this talk before. Some of your cases can't be difficult to work out for people who are connected to them, even if you change the names.

I deprecate, however, in the strongest way the attempts which have been made lately to get at and to destroy these papers. The source of these outrages is known, and if they are repeated I have Mr. Holmes's authority for saying that the whole story concerning the politician, the lighthouse and the trained cormorant will be given to the public.

...well, I for one hope that whoever that is tries again. I want to know what that cormorant was trained to do. And why it's so scandalous. But it's fun to see a direct threat in here.

But the most terrible human tragedies were often involved in these cases which brought him the fewest personal opportunities, and it is one of these which I now desire to record.

So this is going to be tragic and Holmes isn't going to do a lot. Got it.

And we've finally left 1895 to jump to 1896.

When I arrived, I found him seated in a smoke-laden atmosphere, with an elderly, motherly woman of the buxom landlady type in the corresponding chair in front of him.

The what type? Elderly, motherly, and buxom. Does he mean landlady as in at a pub? I assume not because this is about a lodger. But still, this entire description is giving massive Nanny Ogg vibes. I hope she's as cool as Nanny Ogg.

"Mrs. Merrilow does not object to tobacco, Watson, if you wish to indulge your filthy habits."

Did you have to phrase it like that, Holmes. I mean, you're not wrong, but now I've thought of Nanny Ogg my brain is primed for a certain amount of innuendo.

"You say that Mrs. Ronder has been your lodger for seven years and that you have only once seen her face." "And I wish to God I had not!" said Mrs. Merrilow. "It was, I understand, terribly mutilated."

Rude. Okay. Nowhere near as cool as Gytha Ogg.

"Our milkman got a glimpse of her once peeping out of the upper window, and he dropped his tin and the milk all over the front garden."

I mean, looking up and seeing a face staring at you through a window when you don't know anyone's there is a classic horror movie jump scare. Maybe he just dropped his milk because he didn't realise he was being watched, not because of her face. Or maybe just everyone in this story is terrible.

"No, sir, but she gave hard cash, and plenty of it. A quarter's rent right down on the table in advance and no arguing about terms. In these times a poor woman like me can't afford to turn down a chance like that."

Oh no, the classic 'here, have so much money you won't question anything' ploy. Just this time from a woman. Little bit sus. Where did that money come from? I'd ask who she's hiding from, but at this point it might as well be everyone given how rude Mrs Merrilow is being about her face.

"Her health, Mr. Holmes. She seems to be wasting away. And there's something terrible on her mind. 'Murder!' she cries. 'Murder!' And once I heard her, 'You cruel beast! You monster!' she cried."

If the scarring on her face is as extensive as indicated, then some nightmares really are to be expected. I doubt she came about it in a way that wasn't traumatic.

Our visitor had no sooner waddled out of the room—no other verb can describe Mrs. Merrilow's method of progression.

Really Watson? No other word? She, at least, is going to know who you're talking about and she clearly reads your stories because that's why she turned up in Baker Street. You could absolutely have used another word.

...unless she dies over the course of this story. In which case I guess you can say whatever you want and she'll never know.

"Perhaps you would care to read the papers?" "Could you not give me the points?"

Lol. Watson does not want to go through all the reading right now, Holmes.

"They had among their exhibits a very fine North African lion. Sahara King was its name, and it was the habit, both of Ronder and his wife, to give exhibitions inside its cage."

Oh no. Poor lion. I kind of hope it got out and attacked them. Just a little bit. But then that wouldn't explain the 'murder' bit.

"It was deposed at the inquest that there had been some signs that the lion was dangerous, but, as usual, familiarity begat contempt, and no notice was taken of the fact."

The imprisoned wild animal was dangerous? What? No way!

I fully support this lion in whatever it chooses to do about this.

"Ronder lay, with the back of his head crushed in and deep claw-marks across his scalp, some ten yards from the cage, which was open. Close to the door of the cage lay Mrs. Ronder, upon her back, with the creature squatting and snarling above her".

The lion is innocent in all of this. It's been framed. Even if it did do a bit of mauling, it's still innocent. And I bet it was killed for it.

"Look at it from the lion's point of view."

Oh, believe me, I am.

"Well, if his skull was smashed in you would hardly expect to hear from him again."

Fair point, Holmes, fair point.

A third person, then. Which would explain the 'murder' and the 'coward' if they ran away and left her to be mauled.

"And why should it attack them savagely when it was in the habit of playing with them, and doing tricks with them inside the cage?"

You literally just said it had previously shown signs of being dangerous, Holmes.

"Edmunds told me that in his cups he was horrible. A huge bully of a man, he cursed and slashed at everyone who came in his way. I expect those cries about a monster, of which our visitor has spoken, were nocturnal reminiscences of the dear departed."

Not feeling a lot of sympathy for anyone involved in this disaster. Although it sucks that Mrs Ronder is now being treated like shit because of her scars. It's not like anyone knows how she got them. People are dumb.

Also, justice for the lion! He didn't deserve any of this.

So someone killed the husband by bashing in his skull, then somehow managed to make it look like the lion did it and ran off while Mrs Ronder was being attacked? Maybe she was having an affair with someone in the show? And her lover just peaced out when the lion started rampaging - honestly, fair. I too would probably run from a rampaging lion. Though I never intend to be that close to one. Whatever they did to enrage the lion was definitely a dick move, though.

Lion is currently the best character in this story.

But Holmes and Watson have to stop for some partridge right now. We'll have to wait until they've finished before we find out what really happened.

#Letters from Watson #Sherlock Holmes #The Veiled Lodger #long post

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fallenasleepyetagain · 1 year

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Soft - Dream/Blue Fic

Media: UTMV/Undertale Multiverse

Genres: Fluff, pre-established relationship, slight hurt/comfort, human AU, just them being cuties :(, Dream’s reflecting on his past traumas, Dream calling Blue corny pet names because that’s who he is, kisses <3

Characters: Blue, Dream, Nightmare (mentioned), Ink (mentioned)

Pairings: Dream/Blue

CW/TW - Mentions of sex, using sex as a coping mechanism, brief mention of bdsm (nothing explicit)

Word Count: 1931 Words

That night, there was a meteor shower. To say that meteor showers were rare would be overstepping, it wasn’t difficult to see one in a mortal lifetime. They happen around thirty times per year, always in different places. Dream had lived over seven mortal lifetimes, and had seen his fair share of meteor showers. He could see why people liked them, they were awfully pretty. They seemed to get prettier every time Dream saw one. Although, he preferred taking people who had never seen one, and to watch their reaction. To see someone see a meteor shower for the first time was better than the meteor shower itself! When their face lit up, and the meteors reflected in their eyes, the positivity filling up and overflowing like a volcano? Heavenly.

So when Dream turned his attention from the meteor shower and took a glance at Blue who was mesmerized, it really wasn’t a surprise. His, absolutely gorgeous, navy blue eyes reflected the light from the stars and the meteors showering down, albeit with a slight dark blue hue. How could he pay attention to anything else when Blue was just covered in sheer awe and excitement. The man had lived his entire life underground, so anything that had to do with the sky was completely new. Dream couldn’t forget when he took him home for the first time, he didn’t even step inside for a few hours. Dream stayed outside with him, of course, and he just watched as Blue stared up into the sky, watching the clouds and the blue sky. He told Dream that Error had briefly shown him the sky and the stars but he never realized that, “It was so big!”

After dinner that night, Dream showed him the stars. How could he not?

So when Dream caught a whiff of a meteor shower was going to happen, he absolutely had to show Blue what it was like. Blue delivered perfectly. Dream leaned into his arms that were placed on his knees and sighed wistfully, watching as Blue stared into amazement at the sky. Blue was relaxed on the roof, arms resting behind him, holding him up. His pose was so…open. Dream was jealous of him. Disregarding his current posture, Blue wasn’t the most private person in general. He often spoke about his feelings bluntly, how things made him feel. Blue was reserved about certain things, of course, everyone was, but even then he tried to talk about them. His past traumas still haunted him. Dream could tell. It was his experience and time with Error that he was often the most quiet about.

Oh, how Dream wished he was like that. For a Guardian of Emotions, the fact that he was so closed off made him want to slam his head through a wall. He wished that he didn’t care about Nightmare so much, so then maybe when Nightmare went berserk, turned him to stone, and left him for a hundred years, it wouldn’t’ve stung so much. Maybe if he cared less, it wouldn’t pain him to fight Nightmare with the intent to kill. Maybe, he wouldn’t lay awake at night, thinking about every single little thing he did wrong. Wondering, agonizing, whether or not he could’ve stopped Nightmare from eating the apples and going down the path he did.

Man, Nightmare fucked him up.

Those attachments didn’t just go away, unfortunately. Dream wasn’t sure if anyone would ever know him as well as Nightmare did. Nightmare wasn’t drawn to him because of his aura, or because he was a hero. Nightmare just liked him because he was him. He wasn’t the Guardian of Positivity or Leader of the Star Squad, he was just…Dream. That wasn’t the case anymore. Now, he was an enemy. And he was certain that was all that Nightmare viewed him as. It hurt, to be honest.

Every intimate relationship that he had after Nightmare wasn’t built off of anything, no trust, no similar hobbies, just his aura. The sickeningly sweet positivity he radiated that attracted anyone and everyone to him. He could barely comprehend that someone could understand him apart from his aura, that he was only being used for other people to be happy. It made him feel gross inside. He had convinced himself that he couldn’t be understood. He couldn’t be loved because his aura would get in the way. That people would only see him as what he presented himself to be.

It was a bit silly to think that it took him over fifty years since his freedom from stone to learn otherwise. Yeah, it had been fifty whole years since he first met Ink and the two became a duo! Time flies. He always found it hilarious when he told people how old he was, and that he could've been at their parents' birth if he wanted. The Star Squad didn’t gain their third member until two years ago.

And it had been a wonderful two years. Dream’s posture shifted, and he couldn’t help but smile at the mortal beside him.

“This was incredible. Thank you. Thank you so much!” Blue grasped Dream’s hands, grinning big at him.

“Anything for you, B.” Dream took one of Blue’s hands and kissed the top of it, winking at him. Blue flushed, his pretty eyes darting around in embarrassment.

Despite how flustered Dream had made him with a single action, it didn’t stop Blue from getting close to him, and whispering in his ear. “Would you like to know my favorite thing that’s in the sky?”

“What…?” Dream couldn’t stop himself from shivering.

Blue pushed back some of Dream’s golden coils and kissed his forehead. “The sun.”

“Aww jeez.” Blue laughed, as Dream averted his eyes and rubbed the back of his neck. Blue focused back onto the sky, although his body still faced Dream. Dream also glanced towards the sky. He sat a bit more open, hands resting on his thighs. There was something he wanted to say. Blue had done so much for him, and he didn’t even know it!

“Can I tell you something?”

“Sure!” Blue chirped, smiling. Although he didn’t make eye contact, still staring at the sky, Dream knew he was paying attention. It was something he had gotten used to. Even still, Dream used one of his hands to touch Blue’s face, pulling it over so all of him was facing Dream. He followed the lines of Blue’s face, caressing his cheeks, his nose, and his lips. Blue was so pretty. Dream wondered if he knew that. His vitiligo on his face is what Dream loved touching most. His pointer finger trailed over the patterns across his face, the biggest patches being around his right cheek and left eye.

“Thank you.”

Blue leaned into Dream’s touch, putting his hand over Dream’s, “For what?”

“I dunno,” Dream whistled, trying to find his words, “Being there, for me. And not being…selfish, about it? Haha.”

“Selfish?”

“People have…always used me for my aura.” Dream pulled away from Blue and he frowned, putting his hand on Dream’s shoulder. “Even before Nightmare went nuts. He was the only one who wasn’t affected by it and just…liked me for me y’know? And so after, uh, everything, it was hard. Because I didn’t have anyone who knew me for me, even if they said they did. Fuck, I mean Ink is really only around because I make him happy instead of his paints.”

Despite that, Dream would consider Ink a friend. Even though Ink would absolutely leave him to die at the drop of a hat. That was just something he had learned to accept about the bastard.

Dream had his arms crossed and he fidgeted with his leather jacket. “I was desperate. To feel something, y’know? To get some validation, to be loved not for my accomplishments, not for my aura, just for something, anything else. I found that validation in sex. It was…bad. Not sex, itself, obviously. I think sex is fucking awesome.”

“Yeah I know.” Blue stated, voice flat.

“Oi.” Dream smacked him softly with the backside of his hand. “Anyways, I had an unhealthy relationship with it. Used it for validation from people and it was just real rough. It was a hard couple of years.” Dream chuckled nervously, averting his eyes and pulling his body away from Blue. When he looked back, Blue was looking at him, waiting for him to continue with a small smile.

“But you changed that. Changed my way of thinking.” Dream turned to touch his face, again. “You saw past my aura, despite its effects on you. You made an effort to get to know me, and learn more about me than just being a hero or a happiness drug. I appreciate it more than you’ll ever know, B.”

Blue leaned into Dream’s side, putting his head on Dream’s shoulder. “Of course. You’re awesome! Aura or not.”

“You’re so sweet.” Dream spoke softly, allowing Blue to hold his hand.

“I’d do anything for you. You know that right? Anything, really! Just say the word and I’ll get right to work!”

With a sudden switch, Dream, with his cheeks hot and flushed, shoved Blue away. Who was reasonably distraught. He held his hands up and the look on his face was one of both betrayal and deep concern. Dream huffed, crossing his arms and looking away. “You make me so mad sometimes, you know that?”

“W-Wha-”

“I mean, I’m supposed to be Dream, Guardian of Positivity! Hardcore punk, BDSM aficionado! And yet, you make me all mushy and soft.” Dream scooted closer to Blue once more, pulling him close by his waist. “How dare you. What’s your secret?”

The relief on Blue’s face was clear. He had seriously thought that he had done something wrong. He allowed himself to be held, their lips meeting. Slowly and sensually, Dream kissed down Blue’s face. Down his cheeks, across his jaw, and down his neck. He even went so far as to bury his face into Blue’s scarf to kiss him. Blue just relaxed into it, soft, whine-like noises coming out of him.

Once Dream had decided that he was done, Blue responded. “Maybe I’m just that cute?”

“God you’re so fucking right.” Dream yanked him close by his scarf. “C’mere sweetcheeks.”

With a squeal, Blue toppled over, Dream on top of him. Dream grabbed his face with his hands and kissed him, lips slamming together in desperation. Blue wrapped his arms around Dream’s shoulders, keeping him close. He was warm, and goosebumps ran up Blue’s arms and legs as he pushed their lips together more. Soft moans and grunts left the two of them as they made out on the roof, wanting nothing more than to be close to one another. After a moment, Dream broke away, giving Blue time to catch his breath. Dream could make out all day, but his boyfriend needed to breathe.

“I love you so much,” Dream said, kissing his cheek. Blue breathed ragged breaths, arms still wrapped around Dream’s shoulders. “You’re perfect…”

Blue took Dream’s face in his hands, “Do you know how much you matter to me?”

“Why don’t you show me hot stuff?”

As if Blue wouldn’t oblige to that.

The meteor shower wasn’t exactly done yet, but neither bothered to pay attention to it anymore. It was like a scene from a movie, making out on the roof with the stars glimmering in the sky, feeling the warmth of each other. It was perfect. And Dream couldn’t wait to do it again, and again.

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themushroomgoesyeet · 1 month

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Questions about wizarding world building: what happens in the other wizarding schools and why aren't there more of them

Shhhhhh this post isn't a day late & I definitely didn't forget to do it

What with the - somewhat - recent releases of the fantastic beasts movies, I feel like there's been a bit of a hype about wizarding schools in other countries, specifically Ilvermourney (I really hope I spelled that right) in America. As we all know, there was a brief period of time where you could get sorted into Ilvermourney houses on the official website and read some lore tidbits about the school, but realistically we don't really know much about what goes on there.

Nor do we know anything about Beubaxtons (France why do you spell like this) or Durmstrang, or any of the other wizarding schools throughout the world. Seeing as there's at least one book in this franchise where information like that is fairly relevant, I honestly feel like we got cheated on this subject.

How do the other schools teach their kids? What do they look like? Why don't they have any exchange programs? And yes, I realize that question may be kinda stupid bc many schools don't have exchange programs, but since there seems to be a significantly smaller number of wizarding schools I think that question is still justified.

Speaking of, why are there so few schools? One school for the entire UK I can understand since it's roughly the size of Utah state, but one school for the entire US? or the entirety of France? France May still be smaller than the US, but that doesn't negate how huge it is compared to the UK. To be fair, we don't know that each of these countries have only one school, but at this point I would not be surprised if that were the case. You simply cannot assign one school to the US, it's so ridiculous and impractical! At the very very least, we would need maybe seven big schools across the country based on the size of wizarding populations in the US and really how willing you are to stretch this thing out, but it would be even more practical to have at least one school for every state.

It also sounds to me like there are different learning rates for different schools - or at least between Hogwarts and Ilvermourney (seriously? You wrote a whole ass book about two other schools but the school that gets name dropped exactly once in the first FB movie is the one that gets the spotlight?) - I remember reading on the official site that Ilvermourney kids start at a much younger age than the Hogwarts kids - I might be remembering wrong but I'm pretty sure it was kindergarten age (5-6 years for those who don't know), which means that the Ilvermourney kids would progress a lot sooner and faster than the ones at Hogwarts; if these schools did to exchange programs it would be very annoying for both parties bc the Americans have to relearn stuff they already know & the British kids have to try and catch up ons things that would normally be considered "too advanced" for them (advanced my ass, if Harry Potter, the dumbass who lived, can master a patronus in third grade then so can the rest of his peers)

#harry potter #wizarding world #world building

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stsebastiens · 2 years

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moving forward: a primer for unlearning (and re-learning) your faith

this resource list is based on the last seven years of my life and the media that helped me, personally, reckon with the christian evangelical upbringing that I had. ofc our life experiences are all going to be vastly different, so the tools that helped me may not help you, but i hope this provides at least a place to start.

NONFICTION

Amazing Grace: A Vocabulary of Faith – Kathleen Norris

“It seems clear, from reading the daily news if nothing else, that there will always be some in this world who want their holy wars, who will discriminate, vilify, and even kill in the name of God. They have narrowed down the concept of neighbor to include only those like themselves, in terms of creed, caste, race, sex, or sexual orientation. But there is also much evidence that there are many who know that a neighbor might be anyone at all, and are willing to act on that assumption.”

The Genesis Trilogy (And It Was Good, A Stone for a Pillow, Sold Into Egypt) – Madeline L’Engle

“We can recognize the holy good even while we are achingly, fearfully aware of all that has been done to it through greed and lust for power and blind stupidity. We forget the original good of all creation because of our own destructiveness. The ugly fact that evil can be willed for people by other people, and that the evil comes to pass, does not take away our capacity to will good. There may be many spirits abroad other than the Holy Spirit…but they do not make the Holy Spirit less holy. Our paradoxes and contradictions expand; our openness to God’s revelations to us must also be capable of expansion. Our religion must always be subject to change without notice––our religion, not our faith, but the patterns in which we understand and express our faith.”

The Lost Art of Scripture – Karen Armstrong

“In many ways, we seem to be losing the art of scripture in the modern world. Instead of reading it to achieve transformation, we use it to confirm our own views––either that our religion is right and that of our enemies wrong, or, in the case of sceptics, that religion is unworthy of serious consideration…because its creation myths do not concur with recent scientific discoveries, militant atheists have condemned the Bible as a pack of lies, while Christian funadmentalists have developed a “creation science” claiming that the book of Genesis is scientifically sound in every detail.”

Telling the Truth: The Gospel as Tragedy, Comedy, and Fairy Tale – Frederick Buechner

“For reasons of his own God hides himself from us, but however you account for it, he is often more conspicuous by his absence than by his presence, and his absence is much of what we labor under and are heavy-laden by. Just as sacramental theology speaks of a doctrine of the Real Presence, maybe it should speak also of a doctrine of the Real Absence because absence can be sacramental, too, a door left open, a chamber of the heart kept ready and waiting.”

American Harvest – Marie Mutsuki Mockett

“A writer friend once said to me than in intimacy with another person we build a world. When we lose that person––when they leave us––we lose that beautiful world. This is why breakups can be so devastating and why the death of a beloved is so shattering. It must be like this for someone raised to believe that the house in which they live––the house of God––is stable, only to start to see it as only a mirage. A simulator. How terrifying it is to doubt, to risk losing the entire world.”

FICTION

Gilead – Marylinne Robinson

“So my advice is this––don’t look for proofs. Don’t bother with them at all. They are never sufficient to the question, and they’re always a little impertinent, I think, because they claim for God a place within our conceptual grasp…I’m not saying never doubt or question. The Lord gave you a mind so that you would make honest use of it. I’m saying you must be sure that the doubts and questions are your own, not, so to speak, the mustache and walking stick that happen to be the fashion of any particular moment.”

Transcendent Kingdom – Yaa Gyasi

“At times, my life now feels so at odds with the religious teaching of my childhood that I wonder what the little girl I once was would think of the woman I’ve become…but the truth is I haven’t much changed. I still have so many of the same questions, like ‘Do we have control over our thoughts?’, but I am looking for a different way to answer them. I am looking for new names for old feelings. My soul is still my soul, even if I rarely call it that.”

POETRY

Mary Oliver - Whistling Swans - Franz Marc’s Blue Horses - Drifting - The World I Live In

Christian Wiman – All My Friends are Finding New Beliefs

PODCASTS

Where Do We Go From Here - S3 Ep. 97, “The Quest for Desire” - S3 Ep. 64 “Biblical Womanhood Was Always Cultural Womanhood” - S2 Ep. 23, “Why We Need Touch” - S2 Ep. 22 “I wasn’t Straight, but I Also Wasn’t Gay” - S2 Ep. 17 “Sex is for Wives, Too”

The Church Politics Podcast - “Christendom and the Politics of Christian Self-Interest” - “The Black Panthers, Grace, and the Aesthetic of Justice”

The Rise and Fall of Mars Hill

#ely.txt #idk how to tag this lmao. uhhhhhh #religion #christianity #theology

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desertdaddypsp · 6 months

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What do you see in Bisuit's eyes?

I'll tell you what I see, but you have to understand that my interpretation of her gaze mirrors what is going on in my head right now.

Biscuit's blank stare says, "Really? Am I really important? I know that people feed me and pet me and take me for walks, but do they really love me? Is any of this real?

That has been my life over the last few weeks. Lost. Confused. Alone. Numb.

I've realized that over the last couple of days, I've been walking around in a fog...kind a dissociative state. I can't really describe it, but I feel fuzzy. Not the good "warm and fuzzy" kind of fuzzy, but the "I truly can't feel anything because there is this fuzz that envelopes me.

People touch me, but it doesn't feel genuine. I hear words, but they just sound like the teacher in the Peanut's cartoons. My affect is non-existent. I should be crying or depressed, but mostly I just feel nothing. I'm simply going through the motions.

I forget things. I'm clumbsy. I'm irritable and at the same time on the verge of tears for apparently no reason. At times, I feel like I'm outside myself, watching me do things but not really participating in my life. Maybe my life is just to hard in which to participate right now. Maybe I've simply checked out. In fact, that's exactly what I've done. Rick is gone.

Taylor Swift has a song a year or so ago called, "Look What You Made Me Do!" In it, she tells a caller that she can't talk to the old Taylor. The caller asks why. "Oh! Because....she'd dead!" That's the way I feel.

What's the genesis of some of this stuff? I think I have a clue. Sobriety and the rooms, money, and self-medication.

How about we talk about the 12-Step rooms first, shall we? First off, we're all addicts and were all fucked up to one degree or another. Some of us have it better together than others, but were all fucked up. We're not always nice to each other. We gossip. We break anonymity. Friendships come and go like water down the drain. Make a friend one day and the next, they don't even know your name or bother to greet you. Then, when you point it out, it's all MY fault and I get the, "I dont' want to be friends with you anymore!" Jeeze. Shades of the elementary school playground.

Now, at the risk of painting the entire room with one large brush, no every one is like that. The are those who are friendly on a consistent basis. The greet you with a smile and a hug no matter what. I wish I could concentrate on those people. But in my try co-dependent fashion, I tend to concentrate on what's wrong instead of what's right. Maybe someday I'll learn. Stick close to that Higher Power, Rick!

When I first came to the rooms, I got all kinds of business cards and offers to call people no matter what time, day or not, if I was tempted to use. Then two weeks later, those same people didn't even remember me. If I didn't know better, I would have sworn that they were all high when the passed me those business cards. Needless to say in the seven months in the rooms, my initial circle of friends is nowhere to be found. Othere have come to fill their places, but for the most part, they have moved on, or relapased, or decided that they wanted friends with "more sobriety" than I had...or they died. Yeah. That happened too.

Do I have a part in this. But, of course I do. I took a friend out to dinner who was just back from a relapse and the shared with me that his sponsor told him that while he like me, he, "Didn't trust me!" That didn't sit well because I knew the person who supposedly said it.

Now a couple of things crossed my mine: 1) the person telling me about the gossip about me was coming from a man who had recently relapsed. His brain probably wasn't firing on my chambers, so I should have taken his words with a grain of salt. (2) I knew that person who hade supposedly said that he didn't trust me and his behavior torward me would have given me no inclination that he distrusted me. I tried to chalk it up to, "What other people think of me is none of my buisness!" but that didn't work. It made me made.

When I get mad, I take action. So, even thougnh I vowed I wouldn't, I texted the violater and asked him if he had said that he didn't trust me. He said that he had no idea what I was talking about, but he knew who shared that Information with me and he was upset. The person who share it with me became upset with me and refuses to talk to me despite my making a sincere amends. Oh, well. Saying you're sorry doesn't always bring forgiveness, but I did the right things.

Now, the recovered relapser says that he won't go back to meetings befause he doesn't want to face his former sponsor. I hate to sound hard-hearted, but that's not my problem. If he deicdes to stay away out of guilt, no matter how much he blames me, he has to take responsibility for that decision to not go back to the rooms.

I'm not proud of myself in the slightest. I'm disappointed that I let my anger get the best of me and ruin a good friendship.

Anger.

Boy, I'm filled with it. Everyday, I become aware of the seething rage that is just below the surface of my smile when I have one. At a moment's notice, I'm ready to take off someone's head in the parking lot of Ralph's or make snide comments when the lady won't move her damned cart from the middle of the aisle as if she's the only one in the store.

How do I cope? Several ways. I've stopped going to meetings and probably won't go back anytime soon. I'm not sure if my sponsor will continue to work with me if I refuse to go to meetings. If I do, I'll seek out meetings where I'm a loner. I'll attend, sit there and keep my mouth shut, and leave. Get the input and run.

I told my sponsor that since working with him, I have seem glimpses of what a happy life can be and I'm not ready to walk away from that. After all, walk away from what toward what? Oblivion? Drinking? Sex? Relapsing? Not such good choices in my estimation and I'm the one making the decision.

But how do I cope? Not in good ways. In my zombie-like state, I have put the gay sex apps back on my phone and I'm a busy little beaver hunting down twinks, and otters, and bears, oh my! I've gone off the deep end with sex. Often it is with different partners sometime 3 times a day.

Why?

Self-medication. If I can get some guy to get me naked and have his way with me, then I get to feel wanted and valued for those few minutes. But, as the door closes, more often than not, I sob. I know that isn't what I want and yet it is compulsive. Take tonight for example.

I started the day of with a little sexual trick with an old friend. It was fun. I like him. But did that satisfy my needs? Hell no

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usurperkiing · 11 months

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💭 + what are his honest thoughts on becoming King?

send a topic to receive a headcanon based on the topic. ( x. )

truly and honestly, it intimidates him. frightens him. it would be a lie to say that it didn't have any appeal to him. but it was only the aspects that meant he could get what he wanted and exercise his will over people at a greater capacity than what being a prince already granted him.

he has been expected to be king or die, for his entire life, yet even that knowledge had to remain a secret between him and his mother, or they might die. he was taught of what an amazing ruler aegon the conqueror, the one he was named after, was all his life and felt that he would have to live up to those standards. and it wasn't as if anyone looked at him with any of the admiration or respect of his namesake. he watched his father deteriorate rapidly ever since he could remember and there was a time when he was young, maybe six or seven, that he believed such quickly declining health was from the crown itself. as an adult, he isn't entirely convinced he was wrong to believe that.

the idea and pressure of being king causes him so much anxiety that it's one of his many main reasons for drinking as much as he does, and for having started so young. it's much easier to try to forget what's expected of you when your mind is muddled and your attentions are elsewhere.

#⪼ answered. ⪻#⪼ headcanon. ⪻#i feel like theres more to write here but it'll take me forever

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flowercrown-bard · 3 years

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Oh, what’s in a name?

summary: Geralt accidentally calls Jaskier by the wrong name and Jaskier finds out that maybe that's a compliment

pairing: Geralt/Jaskier

word count: 3k

AO3

warnings: none

„Can you hand me the whetstone, Roach?”

Jaskier, already mid-motion to turn and ready to do what Geralt had asked him to, froze. Slowly, and with the biggest grin he could fit on his lips, he turned back to face Geralt again.

“What did you just say?” He could barely contain the laughter in his voice. Raising an eyebrow, he exchanged a look with Roach – well, he tried to exchange a look with Roach, but as usual, she didn’t cooperate – and let out a tiny snort.

Geralt’s brows furrowed in confusion and he gave a small grunt, before saying, “The whetstone.”

Jaskier blinked, his mouth already half-open to tease Geralt about growing old enough to forget the name of his dearest travel companion, but then he stopped himself. He squinted at Geralt, trying to find any hint on his face that he had even realised that he had called Jaskier by the wrong name, but he found none.

For a moment, he contemplated being offended by being mistaken with a horse, but then Roach trotted over to Geralt and nibbled at his hair, making the witcher look up with the softest smile as he petted her neck.

The sight of Geralt so relaxed and free with his smile, made something warm and fuzzy grow in Jaskier’s chest.

He decided not to say anything. At least for now.

Jaskier’s plans to tease Geralt about the name-thing later failed spectacularly. Not because Jaskier didn’t dare tease Geralt, of course, but because all of his attempts to subtly tease him didn’t work, and Jaskier was too proud of his finesse with words to take a more direct approach to his teasing.

He tried singing songs in which he exchanged Geralt’s name or moniker with something else, which only earned him an amused hum.

“Is calling me the White Wolf not enough anymore?” Geralt asked when Jaskier had finished his little ditty. “I thought you needed one moniker for me for memorability.”

Jaskier huffed and nearly opened his mouth to tell Geralt plainly why he had gone with the wrong moniker, but then he blinked.

“You listened to me while I told you about that?”

Geralt shrugged and turned to tend to Roach. Jaskier was nearly fully convinced that he only did it to have an excuse to avoid eye-contact.

“It’s nice talking to someone who talks back.”

Jaskier snorted. “My friend, I’d say out of the two of us, I’m the one who’s doing most of the talking.”

Geralt didn’t reply, proving Jaskier’s point.

Oh, but Jaskier had been wrong. He didn’t realise just how wrong he had been about Geralt’s penchant for taciturnity, until they had to spend more than a couple of days in town.

Had Jaskier thought Geralt didn’t like talking all that much before, he was now fully taken aback by just how little Geralt actually said. Jaskier would have thought that a town with many people – most of which were even somewhat friendly towards Geralt – would get Geralt to relax, but it only served to make him clam up and become more quiet.

That is, he was quiet, save for when he talked to Jaskier.

In comparison to how he treated everyone else, he was downright chatty with him.

After that discovery, Jaskier made a point of talking more about things that Geralt seemed to like talking about. He let him explain the importance of cleaning his swords so often, lest they rust from his touch. He let him talk for hours on end about how to take care of horses. Once Jaskier got him to open up about his family, Geralt almost didn’t stop talking about his brothers, recounting how he and Eskel had once caught a giant bumblebee or reminiscing about how Lambert had tried to set fire to the instructors’ beds when he had been a trainee.

Watching Geralt talk like that was an experience. Every word that he entrusted with Jaskier made his heart flutter and every small smile Geralt gave him as he talked, took his breath away.

“I think you’d really like them, Roach,” Geralt said to conclude his story about his brothers.

Jaskier’s lips twitched upwards, but just like the first time it had happened, Geralt didn’t seem to realise what he had just said.

Jaskier’s grin turned into a soft smile and he leaned a little against Geralt, letting their shoulders touch gently.

“If they are anything like you, I’m sure I’ll like them.”

A couple of weeks later, Jaskier had to admit to himself that he had been wrong once again. He really needed to be careful not to make being wrong into a habit. He had always prided himself in being intelligent – after all, he was a master of the seven liberal arts and years ago, he had made the most intelligent decision of befriending one Geralt of Rivia – and being wrong about things just wasn’t something he liked doing.

But when it came to Geralt, there were always new things to learn, new facets of him to discover. And that wasn’t something Jaskier minded. In fact, every time he learned something new about Geralt – every time Geralt trusted him with new information about himself – Jaskier’s chest felt like it was expanding with that happy little flutter inside.

It was enlightening to learn that Geralt rarely ever cooked with spices, not because they were too expensive, but because his senses were sharp enough to not need much of them.

It was interesting to find out that Geralt liked making up the witcher-code on the spot, whenever someone asked him to do something that he didn’t want to do.

It was endearing finding out that Geralt had named all of his horses Roach.

But it was utterly shocking, when after weeks of having gone their separate ways, Jaskier finally tracked down Geralt to find him talking to Roach.

He froze to his spot and listened enraptured as Geralt spoke to his horse as others did to their friends. As Geralt did to Jaskier.

No. No, that wasn’t it at all. Geralt wasn’t speaking to Roach as he did to Jaskier.

He spoke to Jaskier as he did to Roach.

Jaskier’s eyes went wide at the realisation. How long had Geralt been alone before Jaskier had attached himself to his side, with only Roach as company?

Jaskier thought back to all the times Geralt had looked insecure when speaking with Jaskier when they had first started travelling together, as if he didn’t know how to talk to people. As if he didn’t have much experience doing so outside of negotiating contracts or the winters that he spent with his family.

Thinking of it, Jaskier realised that he probably was the only friend besides Roach that Geralt had.

Jaskier swallowed against the lump forming in his throat and continued walking to Geralt, announcing his presence with a cheerful, “My friend! I missed you!”

Geralt whirled around to him, an unreadable expression on his face, and Jaskier’s chest twisted uncomfortably, unsure if he had maybe been a bit too enthusiastic, but then Geralt’s eyes softened and he gave Jaskier the smallest but most beautiful of smiles.

That evening, as they sat beside the crackling fire and Jaskier plucked a soft melody on his lute as background noise, Geralt talked to him again, telling him with only minimal prompting about the contracts he had completed while Jaskier had been away playing at court.

When the fire died down and Jaskier got too tired to stay awake any longer, Geralt softly nudged him towards his bedroll.

“We can continue this talk tomorrow,” Geralt said, a little hesitantly, as if he still wasn’t entirely sure if his voice was welcome.

“I’d love to.” Jaskier pulled his blanket up to his chin and smiled when Geralt’s shoulders lost the little tension that had taken hold of them with his last words. “Goodnight, Geralt.”

“Goodnight, Roach.”

Jaskier pulled the blanket a little higher to hide his smile. The last thing he thought, before sleep embraced him, was that it really wasn’t that bad being called by Roach’s name.

Now, Jaskier and Roach had never gotten along too well. He had tried to braid her mane despite Geralt warning him that she didn’t like people touching her and she had tried to bite his fingers off.

Sometimes, when Jaskier got peckish, he stole the apple slices Geralt would buy for Roach. Other times, Roach would swat at Jaskier with her tail as if he was an irritating fly, while he was in the middle of composing a song.

Safe to say, they barely did much more than tolerate each other’s presence for Geralt’s sake.

Now though, with Jaskier’s newfound knowledge about how important the mare was to Geralt, Jaskier saw her in a different light.

Oh, sure, she was still cantankerous and stubborn, but she was also Geralt’s oldest companion and friend on the Path.

So Jaskier made a point of always putting some coin aside to buy her treats whenever they got into town and composing odes to her beauty. He wasn’t sure if Roach appreciated the latter, but there was no doubt she liked the treats he got her.

It didn’t take long, until she allowed him to pet her soft muzzle and shortly after, she started following Jaskier around or approaching him happily when he came back after having split from Geralt for a while.

At first, Geralt watched this new display of affection between them warily, but all too soon, Jaskier caught him smiling when Roach nibbled at Jaskier’s hair or Jaskier went out of his way to brush her down.

One time, while Geralt had thought Jaskier was too deep in thought composing to hear him, he had whispered to Roach how happy he was that the two of them got along.

“Remember when I said you would like my brothers?” Geralt said one morning, completely out of the blue, while watching Jaskier try to catch the falling red leaves from the air.

Distracted, Jaskier missed the leaf just by a hair’s breadth. It landed on his head instead. Seemingly without thinking, Geralt brushed it off Jaskier’s head, lingering just a little too long to be a casual touch.

“Y-yeah,” Jaskier said, his heart jumping to his throat. “Of course I remember you talking about Eskel and Lambert.”

Something lit up in Geralt’s eyes. “You remember their names?”

“Naturally,” Jaskier said softly. “They are important to you.”

Geralt remained quiet for a little while, just staring at Jaskier with an unreadable expression. “They are,” he said finally. Geralt’s throat bobbed when he swallowed. “I was wondering…if maybe you would like to meet them?”

Jaskier’s brows shot up. “Are they near?”

Geralt shook his head and turned away, clearly pretending to check over Roach’s saddle.

“You could meet them if you came with me to Kaer Morhen.”

For once, Jaskier was at a loss of words. He must have stayed silent for so long that Geralt began worrying, for he turned back to him with a frown.

Before he could take his words back, Jaskier surged forward and slung his arms around him.

“I would love to come with you.”

On their way up the mountain, Jaskier needled Geralt with questions about the keep, but Geralt refused to give as much as a hint of what Jaskier had to expect from a winter with the wolves.

Jaskier considered pouting, but the twinkle in Geralt’s eyes made it impossible to even pretend to be mad at him. Not when it was clear that Geralt was going back to his taciturn ways to have the keep be a surprise for Jaskier.

And a surprise it was.

When the walls of Kaer Morhen came into view, towering over them, Jaskier lost all ability to speak. His eyes raked over the massive doors, the towers that stretched high into the sky and every part of the courtyard that he just itched to explore.

A soft noise beside him made him turn towards Geralt again. His breath caught in his throat when he met Geralt’s gaze, soft and holding more fondness than Geralt had ever allowed himself to show Jaskier while they were out there on the continent.

Geralt hadn’t lied when he had said that Jaskier would get along with his family. It didn’t take more than one night of drinking together, for Jaskier to decide that the other wolf witchers were his friends now too.

Eskel showed him his poetry collection and his eyes lit up when Jaskier promised to discuss every poem in it with Eskel.

Vesemir was happy to have someone who listened to him with enthusiasm when he talked about monsters and fighting techniques for once.

Lambert was a little harder to get to warm up to Jaskier, but after Jaskier had beaten Geralt in a round of gwent – granted, he had cheated shamelessly, but a victory was a victory – Lambert had barked out a laugh and ruffled Jaskier’s hair, proclaiming that he should come to Kaer Morhen more often.

It was mid-winter when the inevitable happened again. Jaskier had started to look forward to it, but he hadn’t realised just what it would mean if Geralt slipped up again while at Kaer Morhen.

Lambert, Geralt and Jaskier were just shovelling snow near the stables, when it happened. Well, maybe calling it ‘shovelling snow’ was a bit generous. That certainly was what they were supposed to do, but after Lambert had thrown the snow to the side with enough enthusiasm to –maybe? – accidentally hit Jaskier with it instead, it had turned into a full blown snow fight, in which Jaskier constantly shifted sides from ganging up on Lambert with Geralt and throwing his arms around Geralt in a hug to keep him in place while Lambert put snow down Geralt’s shirt.

“Stop it,” Geralt laughed and wriggled in his grip, enough to be playful, but coming nowhere close to using even half of his full strength. “Let go, or I’ll throw you into a pile of snow, Roach!”

“I’d like to see you try.” Jaskier smirked and tightened his hold. “Lambert, now!”

But Lambert was frozen mid-motion of grabbing more snow. He stared at Geralt with the biggest shit eating grin on his face.

“Roach?” He asked with a snort. “Did you just call him Roach?”

In Jaskier’s arms, Geralt stiffened. “I-“

He broke off, throwing a quick glance at Jaskier over his shoulder, before looking away again. Yet, it had been enough for Jaskier to see the look that he had come to understand as blind panic on Geralt’s face.

Before Jaskier could ask him what was wrong, Geralt shrugged him off, easily freeing himself from the hold he had so happily endured before.

“Geralt-“

But Geralt didn’t even falter in his steps. He all but fled into the stables.

Jaskier exchanged a quick look with Lambert who shrugged as if he didn’t care, but followed Geralt’s flight with his eyes and a hint of worry in his expression.

Jaskier didn’t hesitate any longer and ran after Geralt.

Geralt must have heard him enter the stables and hid, for when Jaskier’s eyes adjusted to the dim light, Geralt was nowhere to be found.

Jaskier’s steps slowed and he rubbed his fingers together nervously.

“Geralt?” He asked uncertainly. The only reply he got was the huffing from the horses.

Jaskier’s heart sank, but he set his brow in determination. In two strides, he walked over to the box with Roach, who blew a breath of hot air into his face in greeting.

“Hello there, Roach,” Jaskier began, loud enough that there was no mistaking that he fully intended Geralt to hear him, even though he knew it was unnecessary to raise his voice since Geralt would have been able to hear him even if he had whispered. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you for a while, my dear lady. Did you know that Geralt sometimes calls me by your name?”

Roach huffed and Jaskier began stroking the white stripe on her face.

“Yes, I know,” he continued, “But I swear he doesn’t mean it as an insult to you. I for one am actually rather flattered. I’ve been called by the wrong name before, and usually it’s something that makes me feel like the other person doesn’t think I’m worth having my name remembered. Or as if they don’t respect me enough to learn it. But it’s different with Geralt.” His voice softened. “If he calls me by the name of someone who means so much to him, then that is the highest honour I can imagine. You have no idea how happy it makes me that he trusts and likes me enough to talk to me like he does to his other most faithful friend. And can I tell you a secret, dear Roach?” He got up on his tiptoes to get closer to her ear as he stage-whispered, “Geralt is really important to me too. And I really want him to know that I mean it when I say that he’s my best friend, whether he calls me by your name or mine.”

Behind him, straw rustled and the tapping of steps announced that Geralt was coming closer. Not only that, but the fact that Jaskier could hear Geralt approach, meant that Geralt put effort into not startling him. Jaskier hid his smile in Roach’s neck. Out of the corner of his eyes, he watched Geralt approach slowly, as if he was unsure about every step he took.

Finally, he reached them, standing on Roach’s other side. Jaskier heard him take in a deep breath and he already readied himself to listen to Geralt talk to Roach as he had just done, but then Geralt rounded Roach and came to stand before Jaskier instead.

In his eyes, fear and fondness fought a battle, that fondness won when Jaskier reached out a hand to softly brush it against Geralt’s. With a sigh that expanded Geralt’s entire chest, Geralt intertwined their fingers.

“I-thank you,” Geralt said, looking down at their joined hands. “For understanding. For not being angry at me. I – you are important to me too. More important than anyone outside of Kaer Morhen ever was.” He lifted his head again, giving Jaskier an intense look that sent shivers up his spine. With more meaning, affection and trust than anyone had ever spoken Jaskier’s name with, Geralt said, “You are the most important person to me, Jaskier.”

Jaskier’s eyes stung and he let out a small choked noise. Without thinking, he tugged Geralt closer and flung his free arm around his shoulders, holding him as tightly as he could and burying his head in Geralt’s chest. Geralt’s hand that wasn’t holding Jaskier’s still, came up to cradle the back of his head and Geralt’s cheek pressed against the top of his head.

“Geralt.” Jaskier’s voice got muffled but the low rumble in Geralt’s chest as he hummed in acknowledgement told Jaskier that he could still understand him. “You’re my most important person too. My Geralt.”

“My Jaskier.”

Over the years, Geralt slipped up less and less. Jaskier would have been almost disappointed, if he didn’t like the way Geralt called him “my Jaskier”, or “my Buttercup” so much.

Well. Jaskier had been wrong before when it came to Geralt and as it turned out, he continued to have this terrible habit, try as he might to get rid of it. Because, when Jaskier had assumed that Geralt didn’t slip up on his and Roach’s names anymore, he had been dead wrong.

The thing was, after years of having Jaskier at his side, of being close to him and loving him with his entire being, Geralt had gotten so used to talking to Jaskier, that one day, while Jaskier was plucking away idly at his lute and Geralt was brushing down Roach, he heard the most curious thing, that made him smile wider than he had ever smiled before.

“There you go,” Geralt said as he brushed down Roach’s flank and she kept turning her head, trying to get to the treats in Geralt’s pockets. “You’ll get the treats if you’re a good horse and stay still for once, Jaskier.”

#geraskier #geralt/jaskier #geralt #jaskier #roach #fic #fanfic #witcher #witcher fic #the witcher #my writing #i posted this a while ago on ao3 and completely forgot if I had posted it here as well #fluff

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pippytmi · 3 years

Note

Supercorp + Hogwarts AU + meet messy + "is that the best you can do?"

“Hey, do you guys want to see a muggle magic trick?”

Kara doesn’t have to look up to know Alex and Kelly are exchanging glances over Nia’s head. Nia is the best witch in the fifth year hands-down, but her grasp of muggle illusions leave a lot to be desired.

“Sure…” Kelly agrees, politely but unsurely, while Alex shakes her head.

“If this is that stupid coin trick again, Nia—” she starts, but Nia is already squeezing between them on the grass, unfolding a pack of muggle playing cards.

“It is not,” Nia says. “Prepare to be amazed! Yvette says I’m really good at this one.”

“Oh, joy,” Alex mutters under her breath, which turns into a pained yelp when Kelly elbows her in the ribs.

Kara finally raises her gaze from the newspaper she’s been half-reading, fully prepared to commit to Nia’s trick, but then she catches a glimpse of dark hair and a brisk pace. It’s Lena Luthor, notorious loner, actually sitting outside by the black lake with her books.

It’s odd—Lena never sits outside. People talk; Lena doesn’t have many friends (someone even started a rumor that Lillian Luthor pays Jess, another sixth year, to hang out with Lena). In fact, the only time anyone really sees Lena is in class, or in the Slytherin common room when Jess is also there. Kara sees her even less (only when Slytherin and Gryffindor share classrooms), but that doesn’t make the hopeless crush she’s fostered on her since they were eleven any less potent.

Kelly starts clapping suddenly, reluctantly dragging Kara’s eyes from Lena (who is reading a book; Kara is wondering just what kind of book it is). “Aw, Nia, that was good!” she says. “Do it again!”

Even Alex is curiously lifting up the cards one by one, as if trying to determine the trick herself. “Did you use actual magic for this?” she asks.

“I’m just that good,” Nia brags, though the way she tries to expertly shuffle the cards right back into their box suggests otherwise; half of them spill onto the grass. “Oh man!”

“I’ve got this,” Kara says, absentmindedly reaching for her wand. “Accio—”

“Kara, no!”

Oh, that’s right, Kara thinks belatedly. My wand is broken. It had been an unfortunate event on the Quidditch pitch involving an overzealous Hufflepuff seeker (Winn is still very apologetic about it, but it can’t be helped now). Unfortunately, Kara never seems to quite remember that magic is off-limits until it can be fixed.

And even more unfortunate is the fact that her mind and her words have begun to converge; she’s thinking about the book Lena is reading while glancing at the cards, and her mouth is forming silent words, and really it’s not a surprise at all when said book rockets out of Lena’s hands and aims right for Nia’s head.

No one dies, though, nor do they have to make the unpleasant trudge to the infirmary—Kelly is far quicker than any of Kara’s botched magic, and the book explodes into nothing when she mutters a firm, “Evanesco.”

“Kelly!” Kara forgets, for a second, about the whole Nia-about-to-break-her-face thing; her heart drops to the pit of her stomach at the thought that something of Lena Luthor’s has been reduced to figurative dust. What if that book was personal? What if it was special? What if it was—

“Excuse me,” says a quiet, sudden voice, and Kara just about falls over in the grass at the sight of Lena Luthor standing there. “I think you summoned my book.”

Kelly winces. “Oh, actually—”

“I destroyed it,” Kara blurts out, because really, this is her fault and Nia still has a face so the least Kara can do is take a fall for a friend. “I’m sorry. My wand is broken, and I was trying to summon some cards, but I was looking at you and thinking about your book and it just…I’m sorry. Again. I can pay for it?” She immediately begins digging into the pockets of her robes, but all she manages to scrounge up is a broken sugar quill and a drawing on a torn sheet of paper that depicts Professor Grant as a dragon.

For a moment, all Lena does is stare down at Kara in a peculiarly quizzical way. She doesn’t seem mad or anything, just perplexed. A second later she says, “You were thinking about ‘Voyages with Vampires’ strongly enough to summon it? I don’t really enjoy Gilderoy Lockhart books myself.”

“To be fair,” Kara’s quick to defend herself, “I couldn’t read the title from this far.”

“Right. You decided you wanted to snatch my book from me because it was mine.” And just like that, the curious expression on Lena’s face drops entirely, twists into something resigned and exhausted. “Is that the best you can do? Petty little child games?”

“What? No, I would never—”

“Because last week Eve Tessmacher hit me with a furnunculus curse that was far more clever than this,” Lena all but sneers. “It’s always the pig-headed Gryffindors that aim out of their league.”

“You wanna say that again?” Alex is jumping up, her wand brandished out, and Lena glances from her to Kara to Kelly to Nia, as if just realizing how potentially outnumbered she could be.

Except, well, that’s so not the issue. Kara hastens to stand between Alex’s wand and Lena’s body, nearly knocking her sister over in the process. “No! No, I didn’t do that as a prank, I—” She pauses, feels her cheeks go hot, and then rushes out, “Ijustthinkyou’rereallypretty!”

Alex lowers her wand; Kara can tell, because Alex uses it to jab her in the ribs. “Oh, bloody hell,” Alex grumbles, and she nudges Kelly to join her. “I think that’s our cue. I’d rather study for Potions than watch this.”

Kelly obligingly drags Nia along, who looks like she wants to protest, but eventually Nia caves in—though not without trying to wink conspiringly at Kara, which doesn’t work because Nia “winks” with both eyes.

“But—” Kara watches as her friends scatter, and then she is left with the heavy, accusatory gaze of Lena Luthor. She tries to smile, but imagines her attempt is more of a wince than anything. “Did I mention that I’m sorry?”

Lena takes a step forward. She raises her chin in the air, no less guarded, but her eyes convey a tiny bit of that earlier curiosity all the same. “You’ve already had your fun, Kara Danvers,” she says. “But I will give you credit, no one has played the ‘I have a crush on you’ prank yet.”

Kara frowns. “Do people really play pranks on you so much?”

“I am the weird little sister of a boy who tried to blow up Hogwarts,” Lena all but deadpans. “What do you think?”

“I think you’re way more than Lex Luthor’s sister, and that’s just...really mean,” Kara says, words bursting out before she even pauses to rein them in. “I mean, you are so smart! Last year you saved a bunch of first years who wandered into the Forbidden Forest. A-and you never tried out for Quidditch, but sometimes you fly with Jess on the pitch and you’re so fast you could easily run circles around anyone on the Slytherin team. You’re the coolest person ever. Even when you were eleven, you—” Finally, her brain starts to catch up with her mouth, and Kara flushes hotter than she ever thought possible. “Oh, gosh. I’m sorry. I swear, I didn’t mean for that to sound…stalker-y. I only know about the first year thing because Professor Grant’s son was new that year and I was supposed to be babysitting him. And then the flying, well, sometimes I go to the pitch with Winn whenever he wants to practice—”

“Kara. You can breathe any time you want,” Lena prompts, and Kara pauses to do exactly that.

“Sorry,” Kara adds, again, after she’s let her lungs rest a bit. Her whole body feels shivery from head to toe, like she is seconds away from fainting, and honestly? She just might. “Anyway. Um. I can replace that book if you want. Or I can give you the money and you can pick out a better one, since you said you weren’t a fan? Whatever you want.”

Lena is quiet for a beat. “What were you going to say before? About when I was eleven?”

Kara bites her lip so hard she knows she will inevitably have to ask Kelly to heal it later. “Oh, that,” she says evasively. “I meant, when you were eleven, and I walked face-first into the wrong wall trying to get to platform nine and three quarters, and you didn’t even laugh at me. You just...helped me up, and promised you would walk with me to the train until I found my family again.”

“I remember,” Lena says, and her voice is softening, as is her expression. “You somehow got lost between platforms seven and eight. Your sister was furious when she caught up with us.”

“Yeah.” And Kara finds herself smiling at that memory; this time it’s a real smile, and she couldn’t stop it if she tried. “That was really nice.” She wants to mention more—how even when Lillian Luthor scowled at Kara’s hand-me-downs, Lena complimented her right away on the shirt that had once been Alex’s—but all Kara does right now is step back. “I’ve bothered you enough, I think. Will you…let me know? About the book?”

“I don’t care about the book,” Lena says, and she swallows, loud enough that Kara can hear it. “Do you mean it?”

“That you’re...nice?”

“Yes.” Lena’s cheeks are a faint pink color, and Kara’s entire mouth goes dry.

“Well, yeah,” Kara says, and in that moment—with Lena blushing, and Kara’s chest tightening—they both know that she’s confessing to so much more than thinking Lena is nice. “So. Um.” She squares her shoulders, and prepares to be brave enough to live up to the Gryffindor name: “Can I buy you something that’s not a book? Sometime? Maybe on our next trip to Hogsmeade?”

“Like a date?” Lena asks, so impossibly soft, and Kara nods.

“Exactly like a date,” Kara says, and honestly, she should demand ten points to Gryffindor herself because her voice does not waver once.

And Lena Luthor smiles, just cautious enough to show how unsure she is, but still warm enough that Kara’s heart skips a beat. “Okay,” she says. “But on one condition: I’ll handle any magic until then.”

“Deal,” Kara agrees, and it’s official; breaking her wand might have been the best thing that has ever happened to her, ever.

#took some liberties w/the meet messy hope thats ok!!!#supercorp #supergirl #i need a fic tag #i went as vague as possible w/the hp setting :///#hope its not too glaringly obvious how little i know about hp #now to tackle the other 5 hp aus in my inbox....yall want to see me suffer so bad #(jk i love all the prompts in my inbox ur all too sweet)#🥺❤️

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asmosmainhoe · 3 years

Note

Can you write headcannons for this?

The brothers have been too busy to hang out with MC so they go to the purgatory hall and ends up spending the night cuddling with Solomon, and while all the brothers are freaking out trying to find MC Solomon sends a picture of them asleep on his chest with no context.

I’d love to see their reactions

All seven brothers would be great but if you don’t wanna could I get headcannons for Lucifer, Mammon, Satan, Beel, and Belphie?

MC spends the night with Solomon and doesn't tell the brothers

I had way too much fun with Mammon's part

Gender neutral MC

Warnings: cursing

Lucifer

Calm on the outside, but screaming on the inside

Tells his brothers to sit their asses down immediately and stop making such a fuss even though he wants to turn the entire house upside down more than anything to find you

Thinks about calling Diavolo, but 1) his pride refuses to get help and 2) he really doesn't wanna tell him about the fact that he lost one of the exchange students somewhere in hell

Imagine having to tell your boss that you lost a whole ass person

Then suddenly his phone bings and he looks at it, hoping that one of his brothers finally found your whereabouts

But no, it's just Solomon sending him a mere picture so nothing intere- back the fuck up

Is that you? Sleeping at the magician's side and cuddling?

Immediately goes to purgatory hall to get you back home and is careful to not wake you up while doing so

Of course he calls you in his office and confronts you about your disappearance

Honestly Lucifer's taken aback quite a bit by the fact that you did it because you felt lonely

He won't apologize for neglecting you, but will definitely make sure to give you more attention in the future

Mammon

OH BOY HE GOES APESHIT THE SECOND YOU DON'T RESPOND TO HIM CALLING OUT FOR YOU SO HE STARTS SCREAMING YOUR NAME MORE HYSTERICALLY

Storms into Lucifer's office and yells about how someone kidnapped you

By the time he's done explaining that you're missing, the entire Devildom probably heard about it thanks to his unholy screeching

Even his older brother's threats to hang him upside down if he wouldn't shut up couldn't make him...well shut up

Excuse me, have you seen my human? They're about this tall, clearly gay, but we haven't had the talk-

Finally calms down when he sees the picture Solomon sent him with you in his bed

Wait- you? Inside Solomon's bed? With Solomon in it? Mammon starts making a scene again

Unlike Lucifer he doesn't carry you back quietly, HE BARGES STRAIGHT THROUGH THE DOOR LIKE THEY DO IN THOSE CRIME SHOWS YOU KNOW FBI OPEN UP

The next day you're getting the scolding of your life like the time he told you that he's the only one who's allowed to safe you

Please don't think he's actually mad or anything, this man was so fucking worried and doesn't know how to handle this roller-coaster of emotions

Leviathan

Funny story hah he actually didn't even notice at all that you're missing

Found out about your disappearance through Mammon's concerned yelling a few rooms away from his

Stomps into the hall and demands to know wtf this fuss is all about, because he just wants to play his new game in peace and he can't do that if-

Oh shit MC's missing? Forget about the game, dude, we gotta find them

Blames his brothers for losing you and then his anxiety kicks in, because he starts blaming himself

Posts 749292871910 tweets on Devildomtwitter (or however that shit's called down there) about his search until Solomon texts him in the dm's

Levi's sin kicks in instantly and he becomes incredibly jealous

Quickly gets a hold of himself though, because thank the anime gods! You're safe!

Feels so fucking awful for not spending enough time with you SO HE MAKES IT UP WITH GAMING NIGHTS AND STUFF

Satan

Knows exactly that you're a grown ass person who can take care of themselves and you're probably out there somewhere probably buying stuff or so

But you're all alone and this is hell after all so he sends you a message just to be sure that you're doing fine

Gets really concerned once you don't answer his fifth text so he asks his brothers if they heard anything from you

One of them throws in a remark about how maybe you've been kidnapped and Satan just...like there's a dark, murderous aura surrounding him suddenly and a shadow over his face

"They wouldn't dare"

If someone's actually got the nerves to kidnap you out of all people then he'll make sure to live up to hell's and his reputation

Of course he's a lot calmer when Solomon's sends him the picture, but he still can't help to be angry the magician for not informing him sooner

Asmodeus

Makes a whole ass scene

Obviously he's not screeching and yelling like Mammon no one is, but he still turns the house upside down and puts his brothers into a high alert mode

Paces around the living room where they're all gathered and gestures frantically, demanding for an entire search party

Unintentionally sasses the brothers when they tell him to relax already

But how can you expect him to be calm in a situation like this one? You're the first thing he truly loves besides himself and now you're missing! Have some sympathy for fuck's sake!

Amso's full on crying after an hour or so and doesn't give two fucks about how smuched his makeup is by now

Let's out a relieved gasp and falls less gracefully onto the couch after he receives Solomon's text with a picture of you soundly asleep by his side

You're wrong if you think that he let's the magician off the hook

"You bitch! You could've told me they're with you sooner!"

Beelzebub

Doesn't straight up panic like some all of them just because you don't answer his texts

Thinks you're simply busy with something so he leaves it be, but decides to check up on you after some times

Huh you're not in your room? Searches the entire house and only then, after he still doesn't find you, he gets worried

Belphegor is the first one he asks for help and not gonna lie Beel is kinda lost

Gathers all of his brothers in the living room to discuss their next steps

Lots of stress eating

Maybe you're with a friend? Maybe you're at RAD studying for the upcoming test next week? Or maybe...

No, Beel refuses to think that something might have happened to you, because he can't bear the thought of losing another loved one, another member of his family

Unlike the others he let's you stay at Solomon's for the night, because he doesn't wanna risk waking you up. You deserve the peace

Poor boy's gonna be so heartbroken after you tell him that you left, because you felt lonely so whenever he gets the feeling that it's happening again he sits by your side and just eats

Even if you have nothing to talk about he's still there

Belphegor

Another one who doesn't notice your absence, because surprise! He's taking a nap in the attic!

Has to be woken up by Beel and it takes some time for him to comprehend what his brother is saying to him

Please bear with him, his brain can't function right after waking up

Groans annoyed, because of the incompetence of his brothers

Like how can you loose an entire person?

Unlike the others he actually has a functioning brain cell and messages the residents of purgatory hall

If you're not here then you obviously must be with them

Has a mini heart attack when Simeon and Luke tell him that they haven't seen you

Then Solomon, that ass, sends him a picture with you two cuddling

Also leaves you be, because you deserve a break from all the chaos and because he's maybe to lazy to carry you all the way back home

Just like Beel he just stays by your side whenever he feels like you're again getting lonely

Like he simply falls down onto the bed or couch next to you with a blanket and a pillow

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Masterlist

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blogevaawrites · 3 years

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Keeping to the schedule.

Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader

Warnings: angst, sad, marriage, divorce, smut

Summary: After seven years of being married, two daughters and a difficult divorce, they try to understand what went wrong and why they let that happen.

Part I

“I’m so sorry to do this but we’re having problems with a few scenes. I won’t be at home until next week.” He said from the other side of the line. Since the divorce we have been being very strict with the custody agreement of our children.

“So, will you come to pick them up the next Friday?” I asked.

“Yes, I will be there. And again, I’m really sorry, I tried to do everything in my hands” I knew that he doesn’t like to change anything about the kids, he says we should try to give them as much stability as we can. I couldn’t agree more.

“Don’t worry, it’s fine.” I simply said.

We got married seven years ago, we had a happy marriage, but loneliness and exhaustion made me give up on our marriage. He started to spend more time away, accepting more projects in L.A or any part of the world but home. I guess home wasn’t what it used to be for him and for me because eventually I stopped complaining about his absence.

“I need to talk to you.” I said when I saw him getting out of the shower. I closed the door of the bathroom and l leaned on the sink. “About what? I’m kind of tired, can we leave it for tomorrow?” He said, drying himself with a towel. I was sick of it; I was being left to a side for so long that I didn’t hold it on. “Not really.” He looked at me then, normally I don’t insist. “I filed for divorce.” His face went from confusion to anger quickly.

We fought, he got really mad. I knew I should have talk to him before doing it, but he was never around, I was mad and sad, I wasn’t thinking properly. He didn’t talk to me for four months after that night, he moved to his mother’s house and did everything in his hands to accelerate the process. I know I didn’t deal very well with all of that and either he did. Our relationship since then got even more complicate.

Our obsession with our kids’ stability grew after that. We both knew they were going suffer the most, at least Anna. She was almost six when all of that happened, she asked a few times, but we never gave her an answer she could understand. Emma was only four, she noticed that something was wrong but was too young to assimilate it.

“Mom, Lindsay is having a sleepover this Thursday, and we don’t have school on Friday, can I go? Her mom will call you tomorrow to ask you, can I go, please?” Anna asked, taking my attention from the road as I drove us to home.

“Sure honey” I said with my eyes on the road.

“Dad is coming on Friday, right? I will tell her mom to bring me back in the morning” she always gets excited to see him, both do it.

“It’s not necessary honey, he probably will come to pick you up after dinner. I will pick you up to get lunch together at the park, what do you think?” she nodded enthusiastic, eating her sandwich.

Thursday comes quickly and Martha, Lindsay’s mom, picked Anna up. Emma got to sleep very early after a long afternoon at the park. I went down to watch a few minutes a TV show before to go to bed. The doorbell rang, startling me, it wasn’t late, but I wasn’t expecting anybody. When I got close to the door, I recognized the silhouette of the person behind the door.

“Hi, what are you doing here?”

“I wrapped the film early, I’m sorry if it is too late but I knew you wouldn’t mind. You can have the entire day to yourself tomorrow, in this way.”

“It’s fine, but Anna is not here, she’s at Lindsay’s house and Emma is already sleeping.” He looked devastated and it broke my heart. He usually doesn’t spent too long without seeing them. “You can see Emma if you want to.” I offered and he accepted quickly. He got into the house and went upstairs to Emma’s room.

After a few minutes, he came down to the kitchen where I was preparing things for tomorrow. I wouldn’t say our relationship was good, o was getting better. it was confusing. “How have you been? How was everything with the kids?” he asked from the doorframe. I turned around to see him and answered, “It was fine, no incidents.” I simply said. We looked each other for a while, we haven’t talk since we had sex the last time, he came to bring the girls back. He stayed for dinner and a while after, the girls went to sleep, we started to talk about them, about our past together, about us a couple. We kissed and one thing took us to another.

“I want to talk about the last time. I don’t want you to think I…” he started; I knew it didn’t mean anything for him, it was just sex, he has been avoiding me since then but him bringing the subject up made me mad and it hurt me a little.

“I know! Don’t worry! Let’s just forget about it.” I said walking to the front door.

“No, it’s just that we were kind of drunk and got emotional.” He started to say without following me.

“It was just sex. I get it! You made it very clear when you couldn’t wait to leave.” As soon as we were done, he got up from the bed and started to dress up. He told me it was late, and he had a thing to do in the morning, but I knew he was lying. He left me, naked in the bed, the one we shared for several years.

“I didn’t want the girls to get confused.” He got closer to the door, shaking his head, and rubbing his face roughly with his hands.

“You didn’t want me to get confused.” His eyes got bigger, and I could see the anger growing in his face.

“You couldn’t care less about what I wanted so don’t tell me what my intentions were.”

“You made them very clear.”

He looked confused, but he moved quickly. “You always so understanding. But why don’t you just listen to me? I’m trying to …” He couldn’t say anything more.

“You’re right, it’s kind of late and there isn’t a reason for you to stay.” I interrupted him, he looked mad.

He took a deep breath and kept on “I’m picking the kids tomorrow’s morning” he informed me before walking out.

“They won’t be here until late afternoon.” I said back. He looked at me without saying anything and kept on his walking. I stood at the door, looking how he got in the car. He turned on the engine, and before driving away he looked at me through the window. “Thank God we’re divorced.”

When the topic isn’t our kids, it never goes well. I guess we’re still hurt.

I didn’t fully understand why he got so angry until I saw the pictures.

After he picked the girls the next day, I did some work and later I filled a glass with wine and turned on the television to pick up a film to watch but my phone rang.

“Hey hon! How are you doing?” Lily asked, with a worried voice that I didn’t get.

“Hey! Why are you asking like that? I’m pretty fine.” I said laughing.

“Well! I don’t know, I thought you will be kind of sad o maybe angry, if my ex-husband was dating with somebody after not even a year from our divorce, I would be ready to kill him.”

“What? What are you talking about? I mean he hadn’t told me anything, I don’t think he’s dating again.” I said quite confused.

“Shit! You haven’t seen it, have you?”

Right away, I googled him with the call waiting.

Chris Evans is off market again? The former superhero and the upcoming actress Rachel Welles spotted holding hands and getting affectionate.

He was trying to talk about our night together because he was going to tell me about her. I felt my heart shrinking. I guess I should have been ready for this, he was free to be with whoever he wanted but it hurt me.

“I’m sorry, girl. It must be weird and hurtful. If you need anything you know I’m right here, right?” she asked kindly.

“I’m fine. he’s free to be with anybody but I guess I wasn’t as much ready to see it as I thought.”

“Yeah, knowing something isn’t always mean assimilating it, right?”

“Right”

After the call I refilled my glass and went to sleep with a few tears in my cheeks.

Our relationship began so natural, and it went so fast. We met through common friends, we dated just for tree moths after he asked me to move on with him. We didn’t take long to get married either, we both just knew that it was the right decision. I really loved him, and I know he loved me too. It wasn’t a fantasy, but we were grown-ups when he met, we knew what we wanted for life, in a partner and we found it in each other.

He was a great husband, a great father and a great friend. I single tear fell through my cheek, remembering the beginning of our freefall.

“There’s not a good way to say this. I’m really sorry to tell this but, Mrs. Evans you had a miscarriage.” Doctor Lars said. I felt Chris’s hand in my knee, comforting me. I felt I couldn’t breathe. My heart broke in pieces. “But I’m six months pregnant, this usually happens during the first trimester. This can’t be true.” My mouth slurred. “Well, the actual name is a late-miscarriage, there are several things that may play a part in causing it so we need to do a few tests to find a cause. I know this isn’t easy, but these things can happen, and we can’t do anything to prevent it.” I touched my barely swollen belly, missing the movements of my baby. “What are we doing now?” Chris talked, taking care of the situation. “You will need to go through labour to give birth to you baby. I know this can be a very distressing time and you may be in shock but there’s not other way.” I could hear him breathe hardly before kissing my head.

We went through our worst nightmare. I gave birth to a baby I could take care of. Thankfully, after inducing the labour, the birth came quickly. We decided not to hold the baby. We thought it will be less traumatic in that way.

He went with me through all of that, but we changed. Everything changed.

Five days later, I came into our bedroom to see him packing his suitcase.

“What are you doing? I asked softly.

“I need to go to L.A for a few interviews and shoot a few scenes” I looked at him straightly. Not quite believing he was going to leave so early after everything. “Don’t worry, I asked my mother to come to help you with everything.” he said, seeing my expression. I didn’t want to be alone, I didn’t want his mom here, I wanted him. I caressed his back, calling his attention.

“Don’t go, please.” I muttered. “It will be just a couple days, two weeks max.” he said holding me in his arms.

“Two weeks?” that was so fucking long.

“Listen, I can really do anything. I’m sorry but it’s work. What you want me to do?” he tried to reason with me, in vain.

“Call Meghan and ask her to reschedule it. We have an appointment with Doctor Lars next week.” I didn’t like to complain about his job or ask him to not to do it, but I couldn’t go through that alone.

“Everything will be fine, call me after the appointment and tell me what she says. I will be here as soon as I can.” I pushed him away with my eyes watering.

“Okay” for the first time in our life together he was putting his family in a second place.

The worst thing it was that trip didn’t last 2 weeks, but 3 months. He told me that his next project was being moved forward, and nothing else. He left me alone in the worst moment of my life and I couldn’t forget it.

After a few more glasses of wine, I took me phone and I called him.

“Hello” he said with a surprised voice. “What’s going on?”

“What was what you wanted to tell me last time? Hey, I know we just fuck but I’m actually in a relationship with some else and you must forget about it.” I slurred, mimicking him.

“You know it.” He said, I could hear him moving to another place. I guess he left the house.

“Of course, I do. Do you think I live under a rock?” I wasn’t jealous I was mad at him, at myself.

“Okay I get it you’re mad, but I wanted to talk…”

“What for? To say sorry for fucking me or to ask me to keep back of your new love.”

“No, it’s not like…”

“Why did you leave me? Why wasn’t I your priority anymore? I asked, removing the tears away from my face. My voice broke a few times, I was unable to keep myself still.

“Where are you? Are you drunk?” he asked hurriedly.

“It wasn’t my blame; I couldn’t have known it.” I kept talking.

“What are you talking about?” his voice was full of curiosity and confusion.

“We didn’t name him, he died without a name.” my face was completely wet, my arms were crossed around my stomach and my heart… I couldn’t feel my heart.

“Are you at home? Pease tell me where you are.” He asked desperately.

“Yes, I’m here.” I muttered before hanging up.

A few minutes later I heard the door opening, and his footsteps. I was in completely darkness, no TV, no lights, nothing but somehow, he knew exactly where I was.

“Hey! What’s going on? What happened?” he asked softly, sitting next to me in the half-furnished nursery.

“Why did you leave me?”

“Well, when you wife files for divorce, it’s actually kind of what you have do” he said with a sad smile in his face.

“You left me way before that.” I said quickly, he left me when we lost our baby. “We never talked about him.”

“I don’t think you are in an appropriate state to talk about him.” He said without looking at me.

“I’m fine. Don’t make excuses! You just don’t want to talk about him with me.”

“I don’t want to talk about him with nobody.”

“I’m not nobody.”

“Why is this so important now? It’s been a year since then, we are not together anymore...” he started to get up from the floor.

“You’re dating again…” I finished the sentence off for him “you told me you weren’t ready. You said you missed me, that you missed us.” I said, remembering what he told me when he was taking me to our bedroom between kisses and caresses.

His face looked confused and tired.

“I don’t get it. Why are so upset? You filed for divorce without telling me why, without giving me a chance to make it better. All I know is you felt neglected, but I didn’t do anything wrong. I thought we were just going through a rough patch, but I thought it was normal after all.” His voice was firmed, he wasn’t yelling me, but I bet he wanted. “I know you don’t think this but I’m not the bad guy here.” His eyes were red and watering. He never told me anything of this. He had been too angry to talk to me about anything.

He walked to the door, ready to leave me.

“You left me.” I said, calling his attention.

“You already said that.” He barked back.

“When I asked you to stay you left me for almost four months after I gave birth to my death son. I needed you Chris, and you rather work than be with your wife.” His face kept straight; he knew what I was talking about. I got up when I saw him get closer to me. He looked at me for minutes, as he wasn’t sure about his next words.

“I went to therapy. I didn’t come back home because I wasn’t stable, not because I was working, not because I wanted to leave, it was because I didn’t see another way to deal with everything. You were right when you said holding our baby it would be traumatic, it was.” I didn’t understand what he was talking about, we agreed on not to hold the baby when he was born but he cleared all up “I couldn’t help it, I saw him coming out of you as the same way Emma and Anna did. I needed to see him, and it was the worst thing I could have done, but it was my son.” His eyes never left mine when his body got much closer to me. “I lost my son too, honey. I couldn’t be there for you because I wasn’t handling in the right way.” I saw a single tear going down through his cheek. At least I wasn’t the only one crying.

“Why didn’t you tell me this?”

“Because you gave birth to him! How the fucking hell could I have told you I was the one losing his mind after that? I know I should have stayed with you but believe me, there wasn’t another option, I didn’t find another way.”

#chris evans imagine #Chris Evans #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans fic #chris evans smut #chris evans fluff #CHRIS EVANS ANGST #chris evans and reader #chris evans x you #chris evans x reader #chris evans x wife!reader #marriage #divorce #fluff #Smut #angst #sad

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spideysquake · 2 years

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the infinite playlist: three - stiles follows the girl

based on nick and norah’s infinite playlist by david levithan and rachel cohn

summary: it’s been three weeks, four days, seven hours, and twenty-two minutes since stiles stilinski got his ass dumped by the only girl he’s ever loved. three weeks, four days, seven hours, and twenty-two minutes since lydia ripped his heart out of his chest and stomped it into the ground, effectively rendering stiles incapable of caring about anything that isn’t his band or his best friends. so when lydia shows up at one of his shows – which he explicitly told her not to do – with a new fucking guy following her around, stiles knows that he can’t look as pathetic as he feels. so he gets a five-minute fake girlfriend.

warnings: quite a bit of cursing; fake dating au; lydia and stiles are not together, and lydia is not exactly the nicest all the time; stiles is angsty and chaotic but we love him anyway

word count: 3.4k words

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There’s a split second before Lydia leaves when she makes eye contact with me and for a moment it’s just me and her and I think that maybe - just maybe - it’s not really over between us. But she still leaves, and one second turns into another turns into another, and I’m left alone at the bar. Well, not alone. I’m still standing with this girl, this Fake Girlfriend of My Dreams whose name I’ve forgotten to ask for amongst the jumbled mess that has been this night. And then suddenly, she’s walking away from me too.

The reality of the situation is that I have three choices here. I can stay right here at the bar, maybe have a beer, and try to forget all of the crazy bullshit parts of this night; I can follow Lydia and pray to a God, any God, that she doesn’t think I’m pathetic; or I could follow my new fake girlfriend and pray that she hasn’t already figured out that I’m pathetic. And I have no fucking clue what I want to do.

And then it hits me.

“You haven’t answered my question.”

But she’s still walking away. And I know I have to follow her, because if I don’t, I’ll be left wondering for the rest of my life what this girl’s entire deal was. I thought I just wanted to know how she knew Lydia, but I guess I want to know more: what her name is, what her fucking deal is, how she likes her eggs in the morning. So I reach out for her wrist in some futile attempt to redirect her attention back to me for even just a moment. And it’s this split second of contact, my fingers wrapped around the skin under the sleeve of her flannel, that makes me remember that I have fingers, and a palm, and a wrist of my own. I haven’t felt a spark like this since… well, I’d like to say since Lydia, but I don’t think that even she made me feel like this.

My hand is still on her wrist and it feels like it’s been five hours, even though it’s probably only been about a minute and a half at most, and now she’s staring at me with this look in her eyes like I’m the most pathetic thing she’s ever seen. And all I can think is “Oh shit, she knows the truth”. But she doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, she almost seems to think it’s funny, just how lame she thinks I might be. And it makes me mind just a little bit less, too.

"So are you gonna let my arm go at any point tonight or are we just going to be tied and the arm appendages for the rest of our lives?” Her words snap me back into reality, and I can’t tell if it’s her surprisingly soothing voice or the fact that she might be the funniest, most sharp-witted person I’ve ever met. But either way, my stomach drops at the idea that when I drop her arm, she’ll walk away.

“If I let go, am I gonna see you again?”

“Trust me, pal, you don’t want to see me again.”

“And what if you’re wrong?”

She puts her hands over my eyes, and they smell like peaches and eucalyptus, and now I really want to see her again. And when she slowly pulls them back, the only thought in my head is that in a few short seconds, she just might be smiling at me. Fucking lameass.

She pulls her hands away, just like I expected, and when I open my eyes she’s sporting a smug ass smirk – not exactly what I had in mind, but I’ll still take it.

“So? Was it everything you had in mind, seeing me again?”

In this moment, all I want is for her to never stop touching my cheeks. My tongue feels like it takes up my entire mouth, but I know that the only thing more embarrassing than me saying anything, is me saying nothing.

“I’ll admit, it lives up to the hype.”

Then she giggles. I made her giggle – like the scrunched-up nose, squinty-eyed, massive grin kind of giggle. I did that.

I lower my voice just a little bit, trying not to scare her off with any sudden movements. Apparently dealing with cute girls is like dealing with a deer in the woods.

“So where are you going then?”

She rolls her eyes, but I can tell it’s not directed at me – at least not entirely. “I’ve got to go save my friend.”

“Can I maybe… come with you?” I can’t believe the words as they’re coming out of my mouth, but I hear them after I’ve already said them, and it’s way too late to stop them now. I think about taking them back, but then I remember my three options for the rest of the night, and this still seems like the best one. I don’t really have anything better to do, since Scott and Allison are off doing their happy couple whatever-the-fuck it is that they do, and Malia is definitely sealing the deal with another poor unassuming groupie who thinks she rules the world. And besides, I still don’t know this Dream Girl’s name, which seems like a good enough reason to remain glued to her hip for as long as she’ll let me stay there.

“I’ll tell you what,” she turns to me, a terrifying and super hot glint in her eye. “If you can give me and my friend a ride, I’ll give you two extra minutes of fake girlfriend time.”

“Seven’s my lucky number,” I tell her. I try to play it cool by planting one hand on the edge of the bar, but the bar is wet and sticky, and my hand immediately recoils. I instinctually go to wipe my hand off on my jeans, and I can see her trying not to laugh at me. And while it’s not working in the slightest, I appreciate her effort at pretending like she doesn’t see how fucking awkward I am.

She grabs my wrist – not unlike how I grabbed her earlier – and starts dragging me through the clusters of unaware college students. I can feel my feet falling behind, and all I can do is my best not to fall face first into one of the many puddles of unidentifiable liquid that stains the linoleum already.

“Okay, you gotta answer my question. How do you know Lydia?”

She sighs lightly and I watch her feet falter ever so slightly before she rights herself and pretends that they never did. “She taught me how to make flashcards, and I taught her how to make a playlist without any Britney Spears on it.”

Now it’s my turn to stumble on my feet. “Wait, hold on. You go to USC?”

“We don’t have to talk about it.” And then she’s off again, leaving me to play catch up in my own head before realizing that she’s about seven steps ahead of me and I’m about to get lost in the crowd.

She’s shoving her way through people much taller than her, and I’m doing all I can not to ricochet off of one stranger’s back and onto another.

“He was just fucking here!” She groans, clearly exasperated. She runs a hand through her thick hair and all I can imagine is what it would be like to tuck a strand of it behind her ear. Lamecore, I know.

“Who?”

“No one. Liam. Just, be quiet for a second. I need to think.” I refrain from pointing out that my silence isn’t really going to do much good against the raging din of the rest of this noisy ass club. I hold my tongue and let her have her so-called peace, while I look around the club to see if I can spot Scott and Allison somewhere.

Something catches my eye, but of course I’m nowhere near lucky enough for it to be Scott and Allison. Instead, I’m faced with Lydia’s tongue in some other guy’s mouth. The fucking nerve of her, to show up to a show I explicitly told her not to go to, then play tonsil hockey with some lame wannabe version of Chris Evans as Lucas Lee. Suddenly, I’m filled with something fiery and mean. I can’t believe her and somehow I kind of can and all I can think about is how he's getting beer stick all over her favorite pink sweater and he probably doesn’t even know that she bought that plaid skirt as an homage to Britney Spears and how could she do this to me when we were together for so fucking long and did she ever even care. His hands are wandering and I’m trying to keep my eyes from doing the same but she’s not making it easy with the way that she’s staring at me while he’s feeling her up. And I know I’m not imagining it – it’s sick and it’s twisted but she’s staring directly into my eyes while this dude tries to give her a hickey like it’s the middle school dance or something.

My brain finally lets me pull my eyes away from the atrocious mess happening in front of me, but my Dream Girl isn’t there. She’s a few feet away, diving for a guy who looks kind of familiar. But not in a Didn’t We Go To Sleepaway Camp Together? way, more in a I Think You Hooked Up With The Frontwoman Of My Band Last Month kind of way. He’s staring into the eyes of some chick drummer from a band that played earlier tonight like he’s hoping to find his way back to Neverland somewhere in them. But if the drummer chick is Peter Pan, my Fake Girlfriend is some sort of Captain-Hook-Turned-Designated-Driver-Slash-Chaperone doing her very best to stop her obviously wasted friend from becoming just another Lost Boy in the Bedpost. I could honestly be fooled into thinking that he was her boyfriend if she wasn’t treating him like some sort of little brother.

“Liam! Liam, oh my god.” She looks at him with a look of disdain in her eyes that could really only be mustered by someone who loves their best friend so much that they almost hate them.

Her friend, who I now know is Liam, looks like he’s about to throw some drunken complaint her way, when Malia crawls on stage with her apparent groupie of the night and they launch into an epic fucking cover of Dammit by Blink-182 and suddenly we’re all moshing together like we’re all fifteen again and forgot to take our Adderall. I know about four people out of the hundred-something that are here, but it doesn’t really seem to matter – we’re all moving as one connected mass of people, neurons firing at the exact same time like we’re all thinking the exact same thoughts and feeling the exact same feelings. We’re all tied together here, and if I’m tied into it then it means that Lydia is too, and so is my Dream Fake Girlfriend. We’re all linked, and just the thought of still being linked to Lydia makes me so sad and crazy and excited that all I want is for my molecules and her molecules to disintegrate together and blend into the song and just disappear into the ether for the rest of eternity, but there’s something stopping me from tipping off the edge. I think maybe my Dream Fake Girlfriend is holding my wrist as the rest of me dangles into the unknown. When I turn to look at her, she’s no longer dancing with the rest of us; she’s standing still, her hands by her side, looking straight at me like she’s trying to decipher my soul or something.

“What’s wrong?” I try to scream it over the deafening musical stylings of my own band’s frontwoman, but my voice doesn’t stand a chance against the booming of the bassline. I assume she’s reading my lips, but when I look at her, her gaze looks less like she’s staring at my soul and more like she’s staring through me entirely. For a moment, it seems like she’s forgotten that I’m standing in front of her, which means she’s forgotten to put her walls up between us. And for a split second, I can see the fear and the anxiety that seem so permanent in her eyes. I feel this tug in my stomach telling me to save her from herself.

I change my question. “Are you okay?” Suddenly, it’s like she snaps back into herself, locking her fear back up behind her millions of other thoughts. But I stay curious. I’m determined for her to let me back in again, on purpose this time.

“Find and fucking dandy, thanks for asking.” She throws me this half-assed smile – one that’s more eyebrows than lips – and she grabs my shoulder lightly. “But I think our time is officially up.” She pats me once, twice, before turning on her heel and moving to walk away.

“Do you not need a ride anymore?” Because, here’s the thing, I’m definitely not above using my shitty car for more time with a cute, albeit very complicated, girl.

“Ah, shit. No, no I do.” The song peters out just as she shouts as me, “Come with me.” She grabs my wrist as I make eye contact with Malia, who immediately clocks her hand on my wrist and gives me the most massive and embarrassing thumbs up to show her approval.

I roll my eyes and follow No Name Dream Girl over to where Liam seems to be making decent progress with the drummer girl. Dream Girl puts her hand on Liam’s shoulder and leans in to shout in his ear. Liam leans back and snarks something out in response, and suddenly it’s like I’m watching a verbal tug of war where I’m completely lost on who’s winning. At least, I’m lost until Liam pulls back and screams “Fuck off, I’m not that wasted!” – a phrase which has only ever been uttered by people who are, in fact, that wasted.

Before I can fully comprehend what’s going on, my Dream Girl is yanking Liam’s arm, sending him hurtling towards me. He’s heaving downwards and I’m scrambling to grab his shoulder and I’m pretty much certain that he’s gonna hurl all over me. But instead, he just stares up at me and chuckles. “Your shoes are butt ugly, dude.”

I turn to glare at my seemingly permanent Fake Girlfriend, but she’s already rolling her eyes for me. She heaves one of Liam’s arms over her shoulders and gestures for me to do the same.

“Let’s get out of here.”

We start towards the door and I can just barely hear here shouting MOVE and GET OUT OF THE WAY to the masses that flood our path. I can see the urgency in everyone’s eyes as they scramble out of our way, but all I can really think about is how I’m tripping over my butt-ugly shoes trying to help a girl whose name I don’t even know. The only things I can think about are 1. don’t trip in from of the cute girl and 2. ask her her name, you poor schmuck. At least, they’re the only things on my mind until a pair of platform boots steps in front of us, and I’m staring into the same eyes that shattered my heard and stole my copy of Melophobia.

“I need your car.” Lydia holds out one hand as she snaps her gum.

And suddenly, it’s like I’ve forgotten how to move, or breathe, or think clearly, because I’m standing there looking at her and she’s looking at me and the only thought running through my head is We were happy once. We could be happy again. I’m reaching for the keys in my pocket, planning out what songs to play, what route I could take to make our time together last, convince her that I’m still worth her time. I’m thinking about the way her face looks like when its lit up by the stoplights, and the last time that she was in the passenger seat of my car.

She loved me then, and I loved her. I still love her. We could make it work. I could start at USC or we could move in together, or we could even –

“Sorry, Lydia. But the car’s full, we have no room for you.” My Fake Girlfriend shoots Lydia a saccharine smile that holds a little bit of a grimace behind it, readjusting Liam’s arm over her shoulder.

“Excuse me, what?” Lydia looks pissed now, and I recognize the look on her face as the one she gets when she’s plotting how she could ruin somebody’s whole night.

“Oh, maybe I wasn’t clear. Fuck off, Lydia.”

“I’m sorry, I thought turning off to fucking was your area of expertise, Y/N. So why don’t you take your little wasteypants friend over here and call an Uber to take you back to whatever low grade apartment complex you came from. This is between me and Stiles.”

My first thought is: Lydia is fighting for me. She’s actually fighting for me. My second thought is: Y/N. Her name is Y/N. And I genuinely don’t know which one makes me happier.

Until Y/N slides her arm around my waist and puts her hand in my back pocket. My first instinct is to shove her off, to step over to Lydia and to walk her out to my car and live our happily ever after.

And then Lydia says, “Come on, Stiles, please. We really need your car. I’ll even pay you back for the gas.”

We. Not us. Them. I’ve been exiled from her we. She fucking replaced me.

“I’m gonna go find a drink,” Liam slurs, pulling his arms down to his sides.

“Like hell you are,” Y/N yanks him back, using the hand that was in my back pocket to secure him between us and link all our arms together. We’re left in some weird, awkward off to see the Wizard pose, with Lydia blocking us like her very own version of an Emerald Curtain, more fluffy pink than green.

My tether to these people is so delicate. All it would take is Lydia saying the magic words – really any magic words – and I’d be by her side forever, just like it was supposed to be. But instead she says, “I don’t want him. I just need the car.”

And the illusion is shattered. Lydia and I will never be what we were, I know that now. She will leave, she will choose someone else, over and over and over. Nothing will change that. I cannot change that.

At this point, Y/N is looking at me, desperate for me to carry some of Liam’s weight. I lift his arm over my shoulder, and do my best to lead us out of this grimy bar that holds nothing but shitty memories. I can barely feel my feet or my legs or my hands. I’m not drunk or stoned or high off the night. I’m devastated. I’m spiraling. And it’s affecting the way I do… anything.

There’s one tiny sliver of hope amongst all the bullshit, and it’s this girl that I’m following. I could tell her to get a cab – and I kind of want to, after the night that I’ve had. But there’s a part of me that thinks she could help me feel better – I like the idea of leaving with her, of getting dumplings before I take her home, of maybe even seeing her again. She says goodbye to the club manager and the bouncers in a way that makes me think they might be familiar, but honestly I’m too drained to think about it right now.

I can feel Liam start to drag his feet underneath us, and it takes everything in me not to just drop his lazy ass on the sidewalk. The sidewalks are full of people vaping, or taking a weed break, but the second hand smoke doesn’t do much to make me feel any better. The streets are empty. My stomach is empty. My life is empty. Tonight kinda fucking sucks.

I reach for my keys from the depths of my pocket, and I’m reminded that Lydia won’t be waiting for me in the passenger seat of my car. She doesn’t wait for me anymore.

I wish she hadn’t come tonight. I wish I had never met her at all.

By the time my thoughts finally come to a halt, I’ve led Y/N and Liam to my car.

“What the fuck is that?” Y/N seems rather scandalized by what she sees.

“Y/N, meet Roscoe.”

a/n: finally, chapter three! thank you guys so much for waiting for this chapter, i hope you all like it lots.

xoxo, daisy

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#the infinite playlist #the infinite playlist series #daisy writes #stiles stilinski #stiles stilinski x reader #stiles stilinski imagine #stiles stilinski series #teen wolf fic #teen wolf fanfic #teen wolf #scott mccall #allison argent #malia tate #kira yukimura #fake dating au #stiles stilinski fake dating au #scallison #scott x allison #liam dunbar

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neonlights92 · 3 years

Text

Night Changes: PART ONE

Jeon Jungkook has spent the last twenty years alone. Single. Solo.

And that’s just the way he likes it. That is, until he meets the supposed love of his life. Suddenly he’s falling over himself at the chance of a real relationship with someone.

The only thing getting in his way? You.

genre: fuckboy!jungkookie, college!jungkookie, romcom, e2l (kinda)

A/N: my attempt at a college kookie story? enjooooy

Perhaps it is the universe telling him to stop drinking.

Jeon Jungkook really needs to start listening to the universe, and stop listening to - well to put it bluntly - his penis.

When he wakes up in another stranger’s bed, with a splitting headache, and lipstick marks scattered across his chest, he reckons he should start making better life choices.

The young woman sharing his bed - a girl from the party last night, with legs that go on for miles - rolls over and blinks her eyes open sleepily. She smiles at him.

“Hi Jungkook.”

He racks his brain for her name. Jisoo… Jennie… Lisa… Rose?

He feels bad - he really really does - but what can he do? He was seven tequilas in, when Taehyung convinced him that taking her home would be a good idea.

“Hi…. You.” He finishes lamely, smiling sheepishly.

She blinks again, this time a little more furious. Her eyes narrow after a moment.

“You don’t remember my name, do you?” She purses her stained lips, and Jungkook really does feel awful.

Or maybe that’s just the hangover.

“I uh - maybe. It’s.. Last night’s a little bit grainy for me, to be honest.”

She seems unimpressed, arching a well-groomed brow, “You’re in most of my classes at college, Jeon Jungkook.”

And really that’s when he feels like a complete asshole.

“Shit. I’m sorry,” He tries to place her - he tries so fucking hard - but he knows he doesn’t recognise her, and a worm of guilt starts niggling in the pit of his stomach.

She rolls her eyes and sits up, pressing a hand against her forehead and clicking her tongue, “Whatever. Just get out. Jerk.”

Jungkook feels bad. Seriously, he does.

But he can’t help but share her sentiment.

He scrambles out of bed, fishing around her bedroom floor for the jeans he so carelessly threw off, and the white shirt he’s sure is stained with something he’ll never be able to get rid of. He stumbles into the clothing and turns back towards the nameless woman glaring at him from underneath the covers.

“Do you hate me?”

She rolls her eyes, “Get out of my house, asshole.” He winces. He knows he deserves that.

“See you soon?” She shakes her head, and tugs a hand through her unruly hair, “Hopefully not.” Jungkook bolts out of there like his life depends on it but just as he pulls the front door open, somebody else blocks his way. And suddenly everything in the world shifts, and he feels as though his heart has just split open right down the middle.

Because standing in front of him, holding two bags of groceries, is an absolute angel.

Jungkook thinks - no he’s certain - she’s the most beautiful woman he’s seen in his entire life, and now he understands the songs, and the sonnets and the plays. This is what love at first sight is.

It has to be.

“Oh.” She laughs a little, “Hi.”

Jungkook’s eyes widen, “Hi.”

“You must be Y/N’s guest.”

Y/N. So that’s her name.

“Uh… Yeah.”

Her cheeks flush brightly, “I’m Soomi, Y/N’s roommate.”

“Nice to meet you Y/N’s roommate. I’m Jungkook.”

When she giggles, Jungkook feels like he’s ascended into another plane of existence.

“Well it’s nice to meet you too.” Her eyes lower to his haphazardly buttoned shirt, “Under the circumstances.” Jungkook feels stupid and wonderful all at the same time, and just as he’s about to do something crazy - like ask for her number, or ask her to marry him, even - somebody clears their throat from behind him.

In a moment, Jungkook remembers exactly where he is. His heart drops.

Shit.

Y/N.

“I see you’ve met the asshole I slept with last night,” Y/N raises a brow and clicks her tongue, “You were just on your way out, Jungkook, weren’t you?”

“I… Uh… Yeah. On my way out.” Jungkook knows he has no right to feel dejected - after all he was the one who couldn’t remember Y/N’s name in the first place. But he’s sure Soomi might very well be the love of his life, and he can’t possibly just walk out like this, can he? But when he turns to face Soomi he notices she’s already stepped out of the way for him… And there’s really nothing more he can do.

“Well uh… It was nice to meet you Soomi,” He moves into the hallway and turns to give Y/N a half smile, “See you in class.”

“Like I said.” Y/N pulls a face, “Hopefully not.”

Soomi giggles again and he feels like he’s been shot straight through the heart, “Bye Jungkook!”

The door slams shut in his face, and the moment Jungkook is alone he notices how quickly his heart is racing. Oh god.

He’s in love.

He has to be.

“Jungkook. You’re being ridiculous.” Jungkook’s roommate Namjoon rolls his dark eyes, “She is not the “love of your life.” Stop being so dramatic, you sound like Jin.” Jungkook feels like his heart is about to burst. It’s been less than three hours since he met Soomi and all he can think about is the curve of her smile.

“No. I’m serious, Namjoon. C’mon, when have you ever known me to feel this way about a girl?”

Namjoon sets his mug of coffee to one side and clicks his tongue, “Never. I’ve never known you to feel this way about a girl. Which only further proves my point - you’re being ridiculous.”

“You’re just made of ice,” He comments bitterly, “I’m serious Namjoon. I’m in love.”

“Listen Jungkook you know I usually love to disagree with Namjoon,” This comes from Jungkook’s other roommate Taehyung who is slung across the couch lazily, “But I’ve got to say… This time he’s got a point. You sound like a crazy person.”

“If you saw her you’d know exactly what I mean.”

Namjoon rolls his eyes so hard Jungkook is surprised he doesn’t lose one to the back of his skull.

“It’s a girl Jungkook. A girl you met for all of twenty seconds.” “She was an angel.”

Taehyung giggles, “You’ve really got it bad huh?” “My heart hasn’t stopped pounding since I left her.” Jungkook feels himself deflate slightly, “I need to see her again.” “And how are you going to do that?” Taehyung raises a dark brow, “Surely you don’t have any classes with her, or you would’ve seen her by now.”

“No but… I have classes with Y/N.” Jungkook knows it’s a dumb suggestion.

But he can’t help it. He needs to see Soomi again.

“Y/N as in the girl who you slept with and who’s name you couldn’t remember?” Namjoon scoffs, “Even you can’t be dumb enough to think she’d help you out of the goodness of her heart.”

“No… Maybe not out of the goodness of her heart.” Jungkook agrees, carding a hand through his cherry red locks, “But I can figure out something she wants. Y’know… Mutually beneficial.”

“I hope you’re not talking about your penis,” Taehyung pulls a face.

“Have you not been listening for the past hour Taehyung? I am in love with Soomi - I’m not about to sleep with her roommate...Again. I’m a one woman man.”

Namjoon pushes himself to his feet, “Your only hope is that she’s in love with somebody else. Somebody you could potentially help her seduce.”

Jungkook stands too, “That’s brilliant.” “What about Hoseok?” Taehyung cocks his head to the side, “Everybody’s in love with Hoseok.”

“Do not drag Hoseok into this Jungkook.” Namjoon gives his friend a pointed look, “I’m serious. He’s still heartbroken over Alexa.”

“Alexis,” Taehyung corrects, “Why can’t you ever bother to get the names of our girlfriends right?”

As Namjoon and Taehyung argue over Namjoon’s inability to remember names correctly, Jungkook starts thinking of all the ways he can convince Y/N to help him with Soomi.

It’ll be a piece of cake.

Or so he hopes.

Monday morning rolls around and Jungkook spends practically every minute from the moment he leaves his dorm scouring the campus for Y/N. She isn’t in his first class of the day - or even the second. By his third class of the day he starts to wonder if maybe she’d confused him with someone else.

Maybe there’s another Jeon Jungkook on campus who sleeps with attractive women and forgets their name in the morning. Somebody else is stealing his game.

But then - like a vision from heaven - she walks into his political science class as if she isn’t the key to all his happiness. Her eyes flit across the lecture room and when they land on Jungkook she glares. He wants to sink back against himself but he refuses - instead he smiles widely and gestures for her to sit in the empty seat beside him.

She shakes her head as if he’s crazy (and to be honest, he might be) and instead moves towards the very back, sliding into a seat all on her own.

Jungkook grunts. He can’t really blame her.

Still. Does she really have to make things so difficult?

He grabs his books and shuffles over to where Y/N is sat, engrossed by something on her phone. When he looks closer he realises it's one of those pimple popping compilations on Youtube.

Gross.

Jungkook clears his throat and when she looks up her expression morphs from surprise into annoyance.

“What are you doing?”

“Sitting beside my new friend,” He grins wider, “Y/N.”

Her eyes narrow into slits, “What do you want?”

“To make amends,” Jungkook answers immediately, “I kind of feel like an asshole.” “You should.” She gives him another look of annoyance, “But I’m also not stupid. You’ve got the hots for Soomi, haven’t you?”

Jungkook feels his stomach drop. Is he that obvious?

“Everyone has the hots for Soomi,” Y/N waves her hand noncommittally and gives him a once over, “Though not everyone has slept with her roommate.”

Jungkook winces. It’s clear Y/N despises him.

“Would it help if I said I was sorry?”

“For forgetting my name or for giving me the worst head of my life?” The insult sears him. Jungkook may be a little bit of a lady’s man but he’s always been determined to please his lovers. He wishes he could remember any part of their tryst (to prove her wrong, more than anything) but once again he draws a blank.

“I can make it up to you.” She raises a brow, “I highly doubt that.”

Jungkook opens his mouth to argue with her - before Y/N’s attention is stolen by the figure that has just walked through the double doors of their lecture room. Jungkook follows her gaze and smirks when he realises who she’s staring at.

“So you have the hots for Park Jimin then?”

Y/N’s eyes snap up to meet his and she seems flustered, “What?”

“You just looked at him like he rearranged the stars to spell your name,” Jungkook’s smirk widens, “You like him.”

Y/N looks ready to smack him across the face.

“Shut up.”

“I’m not wrong though, am I?” When her eyebrows dip into a scowl, Jungkook knows he’s won this battle. He leans towards her, conspiratorially.

“I know Jimin well.”

That’s kind of a bold statement (and kind of a lie.) Jungkook knows of Jimin. He’s on the same dance team as Taehyung and Hoseok - two of Jungkook’s closest friends. That’s enough of an in, isn’t it?

“No you don’t.” She mutters with a roll of her eyes, “I can see where you’re going with this.”

“No seriously. He’s best friends with Kim Taehyung,” Again a slight overstatement, but Jungkook doesn’t correct himself, “And Taehyung is like my brother. We grew up together.”

“So what? You help me out with Jimin and I have to do the same for Soomi?” She scoffs, “Soomi and I are best friends. I don’t want to lie to her.” “It wouldn’t be lying.” Jungkook’s voice pinches a little, “It’s just helping fate along.” “Fate?” Y/N’s expression morphs into one of disbelief, “Oh my god. You really do have the hots for her.” “If cupid himself descended to earth and shot me in the ass with an arrow, I’d feel exactly the same for her. Seriously.”

Y/N seems to contemplate the suggestion. Her eyes move to meet the back of Jimin’s head - where he’s sat in the front row - and she sighs heavily. Jungkook tries to read her face.

Is she softening up to the idea?

“Let’s say I agreed to help you.” Her voice is flat, “How can I be sure Soomi won’t just be another notch on your bedpost?”

Jungkook feels his chest constrict, “I resent that. Just because I have more experience than others doesn’t mean I’m an asshole. I don’t pursue women with the intentions of fucking them over.”

He won’t admit it but that assumption kind of pisses him off.

When Y/N is quiet a moment longer, Jungkook sighs and tugs a hand through his hair.

“If I do fuck her over…. Which I won’t. I give you full permission to start a rumour that my penis is the size of a cocktail sausage. I won’t even deny it.”

Y/N’s eyes widen and Jungkook notices (but doesn’t comment on) a red flush to her neck.

“Alright. Fine. I’ll help you out with Soomi, if you help me out with Jimin.”

Jungkook has to force himself not to punch the air in triumph. Instead he grins - nice and wide - and nudges Y/N playfully, “I think this is the start of a very beautiful friendship.”

She groans.

“I’m already regretting this.”

Jungkook sends Y/N a text message the next morning, bright and early. He doesn’t expect a response from her - he assumes she’s more of a night owl than an early bird - but then his phone pings in response and he has to say he’s a little surprised.

Jungkook: good mornin’ y/n… this is cupid calling

Y/N: y’know.. I knew giving you my number was a bad idea

Jungkook: oh c’mon don’t be like that, now that we’re friends you should definitely start warming up to me

Her reply takes a little longer but Jungkook isn’t worried. Despite what she feels towards him, Y/N thinks her only way to Jimin’s heart is through Jungkook. So she’ll just have to put up with it.

Y/N: I just puked in my mouth at the thought of warming up anywhere close to you. Gross

Jungkook smiles at her response.

Jungkook: I think you like me more than you're willing to admit. Anyway we need to get on with our…. Agreement. Want to come round this evening to discuss arrangements? I’ll even throw in some pizza and beer.

Y/N: I only like hawaiian.

Jungkook: Disgusting. You and Namjoon will get on fantastically then. Alright hawaiian it is.

He sends her his address and when she replies with the puking emoji he laughs despite himself.

Maybe she’s not all that bad.

“Pineapple on pizza is a cardinal sin.” Y/N glares at Jungkook as she tucks into her third slice, “Why are you hating?”

“I just - I don’t get it.”

Y/N had arrived at his apartment earlier that evening with a six pack of beer in what Jungkook had assumed was a begrudging olive branch. The two of them had spent the last hour discussing the delicate intricacies of mario kart, and Jungkook had found himself enjoying her company more and more.

He hated to admit it but she was kind of cool.

Only kind of, though.

“You don’t get it because your taste buds are subpar,” She moves her mouth into a small smile and Jungkook almost gasps at the gesture, “Hawaiian is the only acceptable way to eat pizza. Period.”

“Y’know you look much cuter when you smile,” He quips, watching as she chokes on the last piece of crust, “You should do it more often.” Her eyes narrow into a glare, “I smile at people who bother to remember my name.”

“I thought you’d forgiven me for that. I’m helping you out with Jimin aren’t I?”

Y/N laughs - and Jungkook is surprised at the warmth in her tone, “At a price. Or are you forgetting I’m setting you up with Soomi?”

“Which reminds me,” He scoots closer towards her, pushing the pizza box out of the way, “What’s our plan of action?” Y/N seems to pause for a moment, her eyes flicking nervously across his face as she tucks some of her hair behind her ear. Jungkook doesn’t comment on her sudden shift in behaviour, but he notices it.

Man. Girls are weird.

“I thought maybe… You could come over one night, to watch a movie or whatever. And you could ask Taehyung and Jimin to join, too.”

Jungkook nods emphatically, “That’s a good plan. Something intimate to really plant those seeds of love.”

Y/N laughs again and he notices the crinkles at the sides of her eyes when she does so. Weird. Why hasn’t he seen those before? Admittedly… It’s kind of adorable.

“Plant those seeds of love,” She pulls a face, “You really are a wordsmith, Jeon Jungkook.”

“Is it any wonder when my major is English lit?”

“Me too,” She cocks her head to one side, hair falling out from behind her ears, “Makes sense why you’re in most of my classes.”

Jungkook feels kind of (very) guilty as memories of their morning together are brought back.

“I really do feel like shit for not remembering you.” He rubs the back of his neck in that universal boy sign for awkwardness, and clicks his tongue, “I wish I had.”

She shrugs, her eyes darkening a moment as she looks away, “It’s alright. I’m kind of used to it to be honest. Always been more of a... Background kind of person.”

Jungkook clucks, like a mother hen disappointed at her chicks, “Hey don’t say that about yourself.”

When Y/N moves her eyes to meet with his own again, Jungkook notices she doesn’t seem angry or bitter. Just resigned.

“But it’s true,” She licks her bottom lip and smiles almost sadly, “Soomi’s always been the centre of attention everywhere we go. And I’ve known her… Forever, really. So it makes sense. Someone always has to take the back seat. I don’t mind it. Suits me just fine.”

Now Jungkook really feels like an asshole. When she was prickly, it was easy to shove everything under the carpet, and pretend that not knowing her name wasn’t sort of horrible.

But now she was being nice, it made everything a hundred times worse.

“I’m sorry Y/N. Really.”

She meets his gaze again and smiles - this time a little lighter, “Don’t worry about it. Now you know who I am… And you’ll never forget it. Not least because I’m the love of your life’s best friend.”

Jungkook feels kind of awful right now, but he knows that apologising again will probably only annoy her. He tucks his guilt somewhere into the back of his mind and smiles widely, trying to ease the mood.

“Right. And I’m the person who is going to help you snag the man of your dreams!”

She laughs at that, taking a final chug of her beer before setting the empty bottle to one side.

“Park Jimin here I come!”

“You’ve got a one way ticket to Bonetown and Jimin is flying first class!”

She laughs louder, this time snorting, “That makes no sense, but I’ll take it.”

They spend the rest of the evening hanging out in a way that feels strangely familiar, and it’s only when Y/N’s head begins to lull to one side that Jungkook realises it’s past three am. And as he orders her an uber home, and insists she takes the final slice of pizza for the journey home, Jungkook realises that Y/N is more than just kind of cute.

She’s kind of great.

Later on that week, as Jungkook fills Namjoon and Taehyung in on his progress with Y/N, the former seems less than impressed.

“This is only going to end badly.” Namjoon shakes his head, “Haven’t you ever seen a romantic comedy? Shit like this only ends in tears.”

Jungkook takes a swig from his beer and rolls his eyes, “Have you ever tried to be positive a single day in your life Namjoon? Y/N agreed to help me. It’s progress.”

“But you dragged me into it,” Taehyung seems unimpressed, “And I told you me and Jimin aren’t even that close.”

“Okay so I might have embellished slightly….”

“Slightly? You called us the best of friends,” Taehyung groans at his friend’s stupidity, “I’m not sure Jimin even knows what major I’m taking.”

“This is the most Jungkook problem of all time,” Namjoon guffaws at the situation, “How the hell are you going to sort this out.” “Tae - I just need you to convince Jimin to come on one date.”

Taehyung rolls his eyes, “I don’t know him that well, Kook. What exactly am I supposed to say?”

“I don’t know but you once convinced your mom those nudes of you that got leaked senior year of high school were actually for an art project,” Jungkook pleads with his friend, “I know you can do this.” Taehyung laughs at the memory and pulls a face, “If he says no though, there’s not much else I can do.” “Fine. But at least try.”

Jungkook knows that the universe is working in his favour. It has to be. The moment he laid eyes on Soomi he knew he’d never be happy again without her.

“Alright Kook I’ll try. But I’m not making any promises.” Jungkook grins, “You’re the best.”

“I know I am,” He leans further back into the couch and grabs a slice of the pizza Namjoon ordered, surreptitiously picking off the pineapple, “Now what are you going to do about Y/N?” Jungkook raises a brow, “What do you mean?” “Well you described her as a she-demon,” Namjoon snorts, choking on some of his beer, “How exactly is that going to seduce Jimin?” “Remember everyone loves him,” Taehyung tacks on - less than helpfully - his smirk growing, “She’s going to have to get in line.” “Everyone does not love Jimin.”

Taehyung scoffs, “You’re kidding right? I once watched him turn down three girls in one night.”

“Yeah. This girl from my psych class says he’s still heart broken from his ex,” Namjoon seems to be enjoying Jungkook’s predicament a little too much, “Says he won’t even give anyone a chance.”

Jungkook refuses to let his friends’ pessimism get in the way of his elation. He’s one step closer to Soomi, and if Jimin thinks he can be the one to stand in his way he’s got another thing coming.

“I’ll make it work.” He answers with more confidence than he necessarily feels, “Besides, Y/N’s not that bad. In certain lights she might even be considered kind of… Cute. She’s just a little...brash.”

“Could her brashness towards you be due to the fact you forgot her name after an evening of vigorous love making?” Taehyung gives his friend a knowing look, “I mean that would probably even hurt you Jungkook. And you’re the master of not giving a fuck.”

“I apologised.” He says it like that should fix everything, but in the depths of his heart Jungkook knows forgetting her name was kind of (really) shitty, “Besides. If I really do set her up with Jimin and this all works out perfectly she’ll have a lot to thank me for. Might even forgive me.”

Taehyung laughs and Namjoon pulls a face.

“We live in hope.” “That we do Joon.” Jungkook grins, “That we do.”

#bts #bangtan #jungkook #fanfiction #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fanfiction #imagine #jungkookxreader #smut #angst #fuckboy!jungkook #college!jungkook #e2l

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honeypiehotchner · 3 years

Text

you’re still a traitor (Hotch x Fem!Reader) — one shot

This is all angst because my brain wanted to write something based off “traitor” by Olivia Rodrigo 🤭🤭🤭

Warnings: angst, mentions of sex, mentions of excessive drinking as a coping mechanism, no happy ending (and no there won’t be a part 2 soz)

Hotch Masterlist || Main Masterlist

brown guilty eyes and little white lies i played dumb but i always knew

Your relationship with Hotch wasn’t even a real relationship. Not in hindsight, at least. At the heart of it, though, as it was happening, it felt real. It felt more real than anything you had ever experienced.

Nothing was glorified, over-exaggerated, or unnecessary. You’ve always been a straight-to-the-point person, and so has he, so it struck neither of you by surprise when you began spending nights together on cases.

The tension between the two of you had always been high from the day you started at the BAU. He blames it on the skirt you wore to the interview. You blame it on the way he looked you up and down every chance he got.

No wonder he didn’t look surprised to find you on the other side of his hotel room door.

That first night you had said something stupid, something about the girls being lame and going to bed early. But the truth was that they were raiding the minibar, and as much as you wanted to join them, you wanted to see Hotch more.

You knew he didn’t sleep much. It wasn’t hard to conclude, not with his recent divorce, late hours, entire pots of coffee to himself, and dark circles under his eyes.

Not to mention, of course, the small throw pillow and blanket that magically appeared on the couch in his office one day.

You weren’t surprised when he opened the hotel room door, still fully dressed, minus his jacket. You were barely a fourth of a way through your explanation for turning up at his door when he pulled you inside, lips bruising yours and hands gripping your skirt.

To him, it was always the damn skirt.

That night was the first of many. No one knew. No one knows now. Hotch continued to book you a room of your own, and you continued to spend your nights in his bed.

You mastered the art of sneaking to his room after everyone was in, and sneaking back to yours before anyone woke up.

Occasionally, you’d stay back at the BAU until everyone had left, just to spend a moment more with Hotch.

loved you at your worst but that didn’t matter

No one knows this, but you’re the reason his dark circles left. The reason he didn’t stay as late anymore. Because you always coaxed him away, wanting dinner, or even just company as you walked to your car (where you’d then ask for dinner, or rightfully point out that he’s already at the parking garage, so he might as well go home).

Dinner one night turned into almost every night, except when he had Jack. Sleeping in his bed once became almost every night, except when Jack wanted to spend the night.

A label was never spoken about, but you never felt the need to speak about it. As far as you were concerned, you were the only one he was sleeping with and vice versa. Why did a label matter?

That’s what you told yourself, at least. Labels didn’t matter to you. Exclusivity is all that mattered, and you had that. You thought.

You had suspected Hotch started seeing someone else. But all you had was a gut feeling, and a feeling isn’t enough evidence.

i kept quiet so i could keep you

Soon it wasn’t just a feeling. Soon Hotch didn’t want to go to dinner anymore because he was leaving earlier than you — earlier than anyone else. Soon he started actually leaving for lunch on his lunch hour, and that’s when the rumors started swarming.

“Okay,” Garcia ushered everyone over in the bullpen. “Is. Hotch. Dating?”

Rossi chuckled. “I. Don’t. Know.”

Morgan shook his head. “Nah, that sounds like he knows something.”

“Not really,” you shrugged. “Why do we think he’s dating someone?”

“Are you kidding me?” Garcia gasped. “He just left the building on his lunch hour! I’ve never seen him leave for lunch the entire time I’ve been here.”

“Me either,” JJ agreed, to your horror.

“Maybe it’s just something with Jack,” you shrugged again, not even aware of your defensive tone.

Prentiss narrowed her eyes. “Do you know something?”

“What?” You blurted, eyes wide. “No? Am I supposed to?”

“Answering a question with a question,” Reid pointed out lowly.

“Thank you, Captain Obvious,” you said. You grimace, thinking about it now, but you didn’t have any energy then to know it was rude. Or to care.

You were paranoid. Horrified. You were in Hotch’s bed two nights ago, and now he was leaving on his lunch hour, and you had no idea what for. All signs pointed right where the rest of the team was thinking, but the thought made you sick.

So sick that the next night, when you found yourself once again in Hotch’s bed, you brought it up.

You tried to be nonchalant. You don’t know where it went wrong.

ain’t it funny? remember i brought her up and you told me i was paranoid

“How was lunch yesterday?”

His eyebrows furrowed. Something you used to gaze at in awe, but in that moment it made you panic. “Lunch?”

“Yeah,” you murmured. “You left for lunch and the whole team thought something was up.”

He merely hummed. Hummed. That was his reply.

“Emily thought I knew where you went,” you continued, tracing circles on your arm. Normally, you’d trace circles on his chest, but that felt wrong all of the sudden. “I told them I didn’t and they didn’t believe me.”

He chuckled quietly. “I went to lunch. That’s all.”

“With who?” You asked, far too quickly. Maybe that was your mistake. You were too accusatory too fast.

“Did it have to be with someone?” He retaliated, and looking back now, you see this moment here, this was the downfall.

“I mean,” you paused. “You normally stay in your office if you’re eating alone. I figured if you left then you were going to meet someone.”

“Oh.”

You hesitated. “Did you?”

“Yes,” he finally said, ripping the Band-Aid off once and for all. “Her name is Beth. But we’re just friends.”

You nodded. “You sure?”

He turned on his side then, facing you with his head propped on his arm. “Why are you asking?”

“Because I’m curious.”

“You’re never curious.”

“You never leave the office to meet someone for lunch.” Especially not a woman, unless for whatever reason, Haley wants to have lunch and brings Jack, but the last time that happened was seven months ago, back when they were still trying to be friends after the divorce.

“I’m allowed to meet friends for lunch.”

“I didn’t say you weren’t,” you replied, probably too harshly. “I just meant...I don’t know what I meant.”

you gave me your word but that didn’t matter

Weeks passed by and you watched Hotch leave every now and again to have lunch with Beth. He never explicitly told you that it was Beth he was meeting every single time, but you knew. You always knew.

Because the look he’d give you as he’d close his office door, phone in hand no doubt to send a text to her, letting her know he was on his way. The look he’d give you said it all.

You knew the end was coming. Truthfully, you knew the end of the two of you was coming from the first day he met her for lunch.

You had never seen him as happy as he looked when he came back. And with every lunch date, it got worse.

Yet, for some reason, he still invited you over. And for some reason, you still agreed without hesitation.

February came and your heart broke with it.

You knocked on Hotch’s office door, bag in hand, the question of dinner on your hopeful lips.

“Can we talk?” He asked, speaking before you had a second to breathe.

You nodded, stepped inside to your demise, not even bothering to sit down. You knew it wouldn’t take long, and it didn’t.

Two sentences. That’s all it took.

“I don’t think what we’re doing is something I want long-term — for me or for you. I think it’s best if we go our separate ways.”

For me or for you. He was always thinking of your well-being. It always annoyed you.

“Okay,” you had said, cracking a small smile to hide the pain. “Fun while it lasted, right?”

“Right,” he agreed. “Well, have a good night. See you tomorrow.”

You couldn’t hold the tears in and they flowed freely before you were even out of the bullpen. You were thankful everyone had left. Imagine the explanation you would’ve had to conjure up. The web of lies he would’ve forced you to spin in five seconds.

Instead, you had to spin an entirely new web. All to explain why you weren’t sleeping, why you were drinking more, why you looked like you had cried all night the next day (you said it was allergies and insomnia; Morgan was the only skeptical one, but he let it go).

it took you two weeks to go off and date her

The real ending came when Valentine’s Day arrived. You were foolish to think he’d spend it with you, but you still did.

The jet landed back in Virginia after a long case, and you thought for sure Hotch would tap you on the way off of the jet, ask you to dinner, then back to his place, just like you did last year.

But he had made plans. With Beth.

You were delusional to think otherwise, but still, his smile cut right through you when he told Rossi he had plans.

guess you didn’t cheat but you’re still a traitor

Derek, Emily, and Penelope wanted to go out for drinks and you were the first to agree, ready to forget the past year of your life.

Thankfully, you didn’t spill any secrets while drunk. You did confess to going through a breakup, but not with Hotch. No one will ever know it was Hotch. The “he” in question will forever remain a mystery to them.

Meanwhile, you watched Hotch fall deeper and deeper in love. He decided to run a triathlon, and he trained every morning -- with her. He left for lunch almost every day to go eat -- with her. He never stayed late, he always had plans -- with her.

He hardly ever spoke to you anymore. And you never spoke to him.

It became an unspoken agreement for you to leave finished paperwork on his desk without a word (if he was in there) or better yet, to drop it off while he’s at lunch.

You sleep in the hotel room furthest from his every case.

The seats next to him on the jet are off-limits and you’ve even gone to make a shitty cup of shitty coffee before to avoid him (and everyone knows you hate the coffee on the jet).

You somehow managed to never meet or hear about Beth until the triathlon — and you were apparently the only one who hadn’t met her yet.

Jack hugged her immediately that day. He had already warmed up to her and it made you want to claw your heart out.

Beth is nice. Beth is an angel. Beth is older, prettier, everything you knew Hotch wanted and wasn’t getting from you.

She shook your hand with a smile, none the wiser to the fact that you’ve slept with Hotch more times than you can remember. That your heart belongs to him even though you don’t want it to. Even though you want it back.

now you bring her around just to shut me down show her off like she’s a new trophy

Once you met Beth, it seemed like she was everywhere. Visiting the office, bringing Hotch lunch, bringing Jack in to visit, having coffee with Hotch in the cafe you used to frequent, at Rossi’s for family dinner nights. Everywhere.

Worst of all, at JJ and Will’s wedding.

You weren’t the only one to show up without a date, yet you felt like it. Especially when Hotch arrived with Beth on his arm, glowing like always, with Jack holding onto his hand.

You avoided Hotch all night — Beth too, but mostly him — yet he somehow managed to find you alone in the kitchen.

The wine was your saving grace of the night, and he happened to walk in as you were pouring another.

“I can hear your liver screaming from here.”

A poor attempt at a joke, really. Maybe it was funny. But you didn’t laugh. “I’ll survive” was your dry reply before downing half the glass.

His face looked softer, but you know now it was the wine in your system.

“You look good,” he had said. “How are you doing?”

You stared at him. “Fine. Thanks.”

You don’t know why he kept trying to have a conversation with you. You felt insufferable and you see now that you were, but it’s all his fault.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

You chuckled dryly. “Not with you.” You paused. “How’s Beth?” Paused again, this time to bring the wine glass to your lips. “How’s a real relationship working out for you?”

Hotch’s face fell. “What we had was real. You know that.”

“I know it was,” you replied. “But do you? Do you really?”

He didn’t answer. His silence was all you needed.

and i know if you were true there’s no damn way that you could fall in love with somebody that quickly

You left him standing there in the kitchen without another word. You had nothing left to say to him, and he clearly ran out of words for you.

Derek found you halfway to the dance floor.

“Woah, I don’t like that look,” he said, taking the wine from you. “What’s going through that pretty head of yours?”

“Nothing,” you lied. “Let’s dance instead. Come on.”

You drug him away, meeting Penelope and Emily for the next song. You danced, you cried, you blamed the tears on the alcohol in your system. You slow danced with Emily, Derek, Rossi, narrowly avoided Hotch by swinging into Spencer’s fumbling arms.

No one knew. No one would ever know.

you betrayed me

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner oneshot #aaron hotchner one shot #aaron hotchner songfic #traitor olivia rodrigo #aaron hotchner angst #angst #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner fanfic #criminal minds songfic #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #you will not find a happy ending here #oops

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robininthelabyrinth · 3 years

Note

for the prompts: NMJ/JC - Everyone with a functioning brain cell can see that JC just needs someone to tell him he’s doing a good job. And if WWX isn’t stepping up? Well, NMJ definitely will. (Preferably smut and/or fluff) Thank you! ❤️

Compliments - ao3

It started in anger, out of spite.

Traditionally, the world took this to be a bad thing, but in all honesty the vast majority of projects in the Nie sect were started that way – they inherited fiery tempers and spiteful personalities from their ancestors along with their saber cultivation traditions – and it didn’t always turn out badly. There were any number of buildings, techniques, or technological innovations in the Unclean Realm that had started life as a furious fuck you to someone and only turned into something worthwhile about halfway through, once the person involved had calmed down enough to think about what they were doing, realize they were already committed, and then shrug and carry on forward because there was no point in stopping a charge midway.

What Nie Mingjue meant was: there was precedent.

He liked to think it started with Jiang Fengmian, but if Nie Mingjue was being honest with himself, it started back in the Unclean Realm when Nie Huaisang had told him, quite casually over dinner, that he thought that the female cultivator in his class was very pretty and that he’d be happy to marry her.

“Uh,” Nie Mingjue had said, very intelligently. “Huaisang, you’re seven.”

Nie Huaisang had not seen the problem. Instead, he explained very forthrightly that it was only right that he start thinking early on about his marriage, as getting married and having children would be his great contribution to the sect on account of being useless good-for-nothing unfit for anything else –

“Wait,” Nie Mingjue said. “Who told you that?!”

Nie Huaisang claimed he had deduced it.

Nie Mingjue claimed that Nie Huaisang was full of bullshit, and also that he wasn’t good-for-nothing even if he wasn’t good at saber, and anyway even if he was a total good-for-nothing he was still Nie Mingjue’s good-for-nothing and no one had better say a single damn word against him or Nie Mingjue would bite them.

“I meant stab them!” he explained, far too late; Nie Huaisang was already rolling around laughing to the point of tears. “I have a saber. I can stab people! I’m actually very scary, you know!”

Nie Huaisang hadn’t believed him one bit and had carried on, seemingly at peace and forgetting everything, but Nie Mingjue had gone seeking advice from all of his elders and counselors and the more dependable senior disciples of his sect, abruptly terrified that he was permanently damaging Nie Huaisang by raising him the wrong way or something. Didn’t children need encouragement at that age? Weren’t they all young and tender peaches liable to be bruised at the slightest glance or young sprouts that needed to be sheltered from the harsh wind lest they grow up crooked?

Everyone assured him that children were hardier than they appeared, flexible and capable of bouncing back from just about anything. He'd pressed, though, pointing out that even the most flexible wood would eventually form a crack in the face of a vicious hurricane, and in the end they'd admitted that it was better to avoid applying too much pressure at too young an age, that a child squeezed too hard or not hard enough might develop neuroses that would hinder them in the future.

They mostly tried not to look at him when they said that, presumably thinking to themselves that Nie Mingjue was little more than a child himself and had already been subject to the worst pressures possible, which would undoubtedly result in who knows what future issues, but he hadn’t paid that part any mind. As far as he was concerned, his life was already a loss – he had sworn to take revenge for his father, to make that ancient monster Wen Ruohan pay with his life for what he had done and furthermore he'd sworn to pay back the blood debt in full before any of that burden passed to Nie Huaisang.

Letting Nie Huaisang grow up happy – that was what mattered.

Letting him be insulted when Nie Mingjue wasn’t looking played no part in that plan. If Nie Huaisang were going to be insulted, let it be by outsiders who he wouldn’t need to care about! Within their Nie sect, at minimum, he should be doted upon and honored, or else those responsible would have to explain themselves to Nie Mingjue.

Those dark thoughts still lingering in his mind, he had gone to the Lotus Pier for a discussion conference, and that, perhaps, was where it really started.

Rumor had already made the entire cultivation world aware that Jiang Fengmian had found the orphaned son of Cangse Sanren and Wei Changze, and that he had taken him into his home as his ward, allowing him to become a Jiang sect disciple – treating him almost as one of the family, even. That much was known, so it didn’t come as much of a surprise when Jiang Fengmian proudly introduced him or even more proudly showed him off, praising him to the high heavens.

What did come as a surprise was how little he praised his own son standing beside him, despite them being only a few days apart in age. It was as if Jiang Fengmian had simply forgotten that such a creature existed, much less that he had himself contributed to its spawning, and the constant looks of hope – invariably crushed – the child sent him made it clear that the present situation had been going on for some time.

Fuck you, Nie Mingjue thought, seeing red, seeing instead Nie Huaisang in his failed saber classes, struggling so desperately to keep up with the rest even though his body wouldn’t allow for it, being told he was useless and a good-for-nothing and fit for nothing but marriage. Fuck you, Jiang Fengmian.

He couldn’t say that, of course.

So instead he said, “Excellent stance,” to the child, who'd received the courtesy name Wanyin but seemed to be universally called Jiang Cheng. “Do you know the others in the set?”

Jiang Cheng, staring at him, very slowly nodded, and demonstrated them.

“Absolutely perfect,” Nie Mingjue said loudly, drawing attention to himself with his over-loud voice that everyone would automatically forgive on account on him being both a Nie and a young man. “You can see how hard you’ve worked at it, and it has paid off handsomely. You are very lucky in your son, Sect Leader Jiang.”

“…thank you,” Jiang Fengmian said, a little bemused at being interrupted. He’d been talking yet again about Wei Wuxian’s brilliance at picking up the sword again after years of living on the streets without practice, even though at the moment the smiling boy's admittedly impressive skills were still largely wild and undisciplined.

Nie Mingjue nodded, and said: “When exactly did you say the opening festivities would be starting?”

Jiang Fengmian had clearly forgotten about that in his enthusiasm, so he quickly hurried back to the actual subject at hand and the discussion conference was started in earnest.

It was almost enough to allow Nie Mingjue to forget the matter and put it behind him.

Or, it would have been, if only Jiang Fengmian hadn’t continued to insert praise for Wei Wuxian at every possible instance – it was as if he were the man’s first-born son, rather than another person’s child.

Irritated beyond belief, Nie Mingjue started complimenting Jiang Cheng every time Jiang Fengmian said something nice about Wei Wuxian, and he made sure to keep his compliments accurate: he was a hard worker, dedicated and sincere, thoughtful, clever, not overly arrogant…

“Wei Wuxian came up with his own ideas for a sword style already,” Jiang Fengmian claimed at one point. “You can see him on the training ground now, practicing it – take a look!”

Nie Mingjue picked up a stone and flicked it over with his fingers, making Wei Wuxian jump half a chi into the air and nearly fall on his ass.

“Weak foundation, and he over-commits,” he analyzed dryly, because it was true, and because no one else was saying it. He didn't make it any harsher than it had to be: he had nothing against the boy himself, of course; it was only that he knew from experience that it was much easier to be the one being complimented than the one not. “He’s got his head so high in the clouds that his feet are barely touching the ground – the weakest fierce corpse would knock him flat as a pancake with a childish style like that. He’d be better off sticking with orthodox or he’ll end up in real trouble one day.”

“Sect Leader Nie, really,” Jiang Fengmian said disapprovingly. “He’s only nine.”

“Old enough to pick up bad habits,” Nie Mingjue retorted. “Your son’s the same age and he’s as steady as a rock. If Jiang Cheng keeps going as he is, he’ll have a strong enough base to outlast the fiercest storm.”

“A rock has no imagination,” Jiang Fengmian said, and was he actually arguing that his son was inferior? Out loud, in front of outsiders? Did the man have no shame? “Mingjue, you’re young, but you must know that my Jiang sect prizes freedom and creativity as the highest virtue –”

“Would you rather build a house using a firework or a foundation stone?” Nie Mingjue asked, doing his best not to outwardly bristle at the condescendingly intimate use of his name by someone who might be technically his elder but legally his equal. “Tell me, Fengmian, does your Jiang sect’s acclaimed ‘freedom’ only allow for people to be as fluid as the river and not as steady as the earth?”

Jiang Fengmian faltered, clearly not knowing how to answer that.

Nie Mingjue raised his hands in a sarcastic salute: “As the leader of a sect whose style is based on a grounded foundation, I would be very happy if you would educate me in your wisdom. No doubt my peers would benefit as well.”

Perhaps it was at that point that Jiang Fengmian realized that his words could be misinterpreted as an insult to all the sects whose styles were less free-flowing than the Jiang – just about all of them except for maybe the Lan and their subsidiary sects, given their preference for techniques modeled on the wind over the water – and moreover that this was a discussion conference, where every word was political, and that a great deal of people were glaring balefully at him. He hastily moved the conversation onwards, and left the subject of his sons for another day.

Later that evening, Madame Yu came over to where Nie Mingjue was nursing a bowl of very fine wine that he didn’t especially feel like consuming. Before he could start worrying about the Purple Spider’s intentions, she said, voice stiff, “Your words regarding my son are too kind. His skills are still inferior; he has a great deal of progress yet to be made.”

“He’s only nine,” Nie Mingjue said, feeling mortified that she’d noticed his little temper tantrum, which he had belatedly realized was probably extremely obvious. “Anyway, I wasn't lying. He has a good foundation; he’ll be a fearsome cultivator one day, there’s no doubt. I only said what I saw.”

“You didn’t comment about Wei Wuxian,” she said. “You must have noticed his genius.”

“Geniuses don’t need to be praised overmuch,” Nie Mingjue said. He himself had been termed a genius by his teachers, and he’d hated every single moment of it – couldn’t he just be good at things without having people fall all over themselves to compliment him? He’d enjoyed it at the start, but after a while it had started to wear on him; he was expected to be a genius in all things, and being simply ordinary was suddenly seen as failing. “It’s the ones that have to work hard that do, or else they’ll be discouraged…comparing someone to another person’s child works as a spur to a certain extent, but after a while it loses its potency as a tool.”

Your husband is a fucking idiot, he didn’t say. It’s his own son! How could he speak like that about him? Shouldn’t he be holding him in his palms like a gentle flame, protecting him from the wind and rain? How can he bear to scold his son when he hasn't shown that the scolding is meant for his benefit?

“Perhaps,” Madame Yu said, but it was clear on her face that she wasn’t about to start taking parenting advice from a half-grown sprout like Nie Mingjue. “Nevertheless, your words were kind.”

She swept away after that, much to his relief. He shook his head and daydreamed about a magic tool that would make this whole nightmarish experience go by that much quicker.

In the end, it went by at the same speed it always did. It could have ended there, but Nie Mingjue kept up the habit of blatantly complimenting Jiang Cheng in future sect conferences as well, if only because it clearly irritated Jiang Fengmian – less because Nie Mingjue was praising his son and more because it was so obviously meant as an indirect critique of Jiang Fengmian’s skills as a parent or sect leader, and moreover it reminded all the other sects of that unfortunate interchange and made them less inclined to listen to him – and of course, because, well, once you’ve started a charge, you had to finish it even if you came to your senses about halfway through.

He made sure to keep it proportionate, of course, since there was nothing worse than false praise. He didn’t really mean anything by it, other than the half-formed thought that someone ought to be doing it – that the boy should know that someone looked at him and Wei Wuxian and remembered to praise him first. Nie Mingjue praised Wei Wuxian too, of course, since the boy often deserved it; it was only that he made a particular point not to forget about Jiang Cheng, either.

(He also made sure the other sect leaders saw how well the technique could be used to fluster Jiang Fengmian, an intrusion into his personal life that could be masked in perfect politeness, and several of them picked up the same tact, though less consistently than Nie Mingjue – Sect Leaders Jin and Wen, naturally, always looking for a weakness, but interestingly enough also Lan Qiren, who was normally above such petty maneuvers. Possibly he was actually just complimenting Jiang Cheng because he sincerely approved of him.)

He didn’t think much of it.

Nie Mingjue didn’t think much of it during the other discussion conferences, or when he came to the Cloud Recesses to pick up Nie Huaisang, who had – amazingly – actually managed to pass this time, although the expression on Lan Qiren’s face suggested the pass might have more to do with the other sect leader’s desire to never see Nie Huaisang haunt his classroom ever again.

“You know what, don’t tell me. Tell me….hm…how did Jiang Wanyin do?” Nie Mingjue asked, hand over his eyes as if it could forestall the headache. “He’s a bright boy, and knows how to put his mind to something when he wants. Tell me about him instead, it’ll be less depressing.”

“He’s very bright,” Lan Qiren agreed. “Very thoughtful, and very thorough. He sometimes errs towards conservatism out of fear of giving the wrong answer, but that’s just a matter of confidence; his thinking is very good. He’s very clear-sighted as long as the matter is logical, rather than emotional.”

“No surprise,” Nie Mingjue grunted. “He’ll be a sect leader worthy of respect, in his time.”

When he’s rid of that father of his dragging him down, he thought ungraciously, and he saw Lan Qiren bob his head in a sharp nod of unspoken agreement.

“All right,” he said. “I’m adequately fortified now. Tell me about Huaisang.”

Lan Qiren gave him a look of profound sympathy.

It wasn’t until much later, during the Sunshot Campaign, that it was first called to his attention – by Jiang Cheng himself, oddly enough.

“Why do you keep doing that?” he hissed, having stayed behind after one of their meetings.

Nie Mingjue blinked at him. “Doing – what?”

“You – you said – about me…!”

Nie Mingjue tried to recall what he’d said during the meeting just now. “That you – were doing an excellent job while facing much higher level of obstacles than everyone else?” he hazarded, because he had said something like that. “Or was it the bit about how if any of them had needed to rebuild their sect and fight at the same time, we’d all be doomed because they couldn’t multitask for shit?”

Yeah, it was probably that one.

“I didn’t mean any offense by referencing what happened to your sect,” he said, hoping to explain. “It was only –”

“I didn’t take offense,” Jiang Cheng mumbled. “It’s fine. I mean, it’s not fine, but – it happened, everyone knows that it happened, not talking about it isn’t going to make it not have happened. That’s not what I meant…why do you keep saying such nice things about me?”

Nie Mingjue blinked at him. “Because they’re true?”

Jiang Cheng’s cheeks flushed red. “You’ve always said nice things about me. Ever since I was a little kid – every time you saw me, at the discussion conferences, or the Cloud Recesses, or even in your letters to my father…”

He had in fact done that.

“I just want to know why. Is it – my father’s not around, you can’t be doing it just to piss him off, even though I know that was part of it. Why me?”

Nie Mingjue coughed a little, having not realized that Jiang Cheng had noticed. Or possibly even overheard, in regards to the Cloud Recesses. “I’m sure you’re familiar with the concept of the other person’s child,” he said, and Jiang Cheng nodded his head sharply, clearly thinking of Wei Wuxian. “You’re Huaisang’s.”

“Me?” Jiang Cheng seemed unduly vulnerable when he asked. “You compare him – to me?”

“It’s amazing he tolerated you at the Cloud Recesses,” Nie Mingjue said with a sigh. In fact, his brother had all but declared war on Jiang Cheng in absentia on account of all Nie Mingjue’s comments, only for his first letter home from the Cloud Recesses that year to be I see why you like him! He’s cute! A perfect match for you! because he’d apparently decided that Nie Mingjue had a crush on the boy.

Which he certainly hadn’t – at least not when he’d been that age, anyway. Jiang Cheng had grown up to embody every single one of the compliments Nie Mingjue had paid him when he’d been younger, especially with the maturity and natural aura of command that came to him after his personal tragedy.

“But why…you knew Wei Wuxian about as well as you knew me.”

Nie Mingjue snorted. “And that would have helped Huaisang how, exactly? If I wanted to compare him with someone who picked things up the first time they saw it, I wouldn’t need to go outside the Nie sect for that – I was also considered a genius when I was young. It’s no failing to be born without a vast and unending natural talent; Huaisang’s issue has always been his unwillingness to put in the effort.”

Jiang Cheng stared at him.

“Anyway, your father was so blinded by his adoration for Wei Wuxian that he overlooked your merits, which are different but no less impressive,” Nie Mingjue added. “As someone who was trying to figure out how to raise a child, it irritated me; I thought someone ought to make it clear to you that you were seen.”

“Yes,” Jiang Cheng said, his voice strangely hoarse. “Yes, you – you succeeded.”

He paused for a moment, meeting Nie Mingjue’s eyes intently, and then abruptly said, “I’ll be leaving,” and dashed out.

Nie Mingjue wasn’t entirely sure if that meant he should stop or not. Jiang Cheng had said he wasn’t offended…anyway, it was a fixed habit by now. He’d been doing it for over half his life! He couldn’t stop that easily! It would be like trying to stop his temper, or a charge – there was nothing for it.

Jiang Cheng would just have to live with a few compliments.

“Wow, you’re an idiot,” Nie Huaisang said when he told him about the incident, months later while he was lying in bed, recovering from the disaster that had been the end of the war. “I’ll fix this.”

“Fix what?”

“I’m going to tell him you’re dying,” Nie Huaisang decided.

“You’re going to do what?!”

“Stay in bed, da-ge! Doctor’s orders!”

The Nie sect chief doctor was an extremely terrifying person. Nie Mingjue stayed in bed.

Some time later, Jiang Cheng stormed in, face pale.

“Huaisang’s a rotten liar and I’m going to be fine,” Nie Mingjue said at once.

Jiang Cheng stopped mid-storm, and abruptly deflated. “Really?”

“Really. I would’ve stopped him, but I’m stuck in bed for the moment.”

Jiang Cheng took a seat next to him. “That sounds serious. You shouldn’t underestimate war wounds, especially given your sect’s tendency towards qi deviations...”

“Compassionate as well,” Nie Mingjue teased. “I’ll have to add that to the rotation of compliments.”

Jiang Cheng flushed red. “You’re…planning on continuing?”

“For the rest of my life, however short it might be,” Nie Mingjue said, because he was an honest person, even when it was inconvenient. He was going to explain about the habit, and the concept of stopping mid-charge, but he didn’t manage to start before Jiang Cheng grabbed him by the collar and pulled him up into a kiss.

After that, he figured that maybe explaining that part of it wasn’t necessary. He might be slow on the uptake, but he wasn’t actually stupid.

#mdzs #nie mingjue #jiang cheng #jiang fengmian #lan qiren #nie huaisang #my fic #my fics #compliments

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