#i say even though i’ve never talked abt this au here before | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

year2000electronics · 3 months

Note

Ok so what’s shimmer relationship like with the main cast like in the brotherhood au?

RUBS HANDS TOGETHER EVILLY. I ACTUALLY HAVE SOMETHING I WROTE A WHILE BACK ABT SHIM AND THE BROTHERS. HEHEHEHEHEEEE

i havent gotten to the outcasts Yet but. one day. i'll put it below the cut!!

“You probably don’t remember me, but-”

That was the first thing Shimmer had decided to say to baby Branch- no, it was just Branch now, wasn’t it? No matter how hard she looked at him, she could still only see the hopeful, gleaming eyes and the sweet smile as that kid she had come to briefly know so many years ago. It was a tough habit to kick- and the other members of the village clearly had a leg up on her with that.

“No, I remember you!” He replied, swinging his hands back and forth as the two of them walked through the village together. “Johnny doesn’t talk about you anymore, not really, but I remember going over to your pod!”

Shimmer tried her best not to seem too desperate for knowledge. Johnny? Her Johnny? Well- formerly hers. Not anymore? She knew it, he hated her, dammit, why did she come here-

“Oh, yeah? That so?” She laughed quietly. “Gosh, you’d make a mess of the place… you were so cute.”

“Yeah…” Branch said, looking off to the side. He was clearly quite a bit surprised, hearing someone talk about him through their sole memories of him being a baby. “It’s… been a long time since then, though.”

“I know, I know,” Shimmer assured quickly. “You’re all grown up now. And it makes me feel… very old.” She gave a laugh to shrug it off, but… it was true. Staring her in the face was the very sobering realization that it had been nearly two decades… Two decades since she had seen any of these people. And yet, somehow, despite Branch going from a baby to an adult…

…It felt like he had changed the least.

“Well- you don’t look very old,” Branch chirped. “Not to me.”

Shimmer looked back at him with a sort of sad smile, combing her hair out of her face.

“...You’re sweet, kid,” She mumbled.

“No, really! You look Johnny’s age, and he’s not old, so… you’re not old either, right?” Branch grinned. He thought his logic was flawless, clearly.

Shimmer snorted. “Is that how you see it?”

“Yup.”

Shimmer laughed, and decided to leave it at that. Branch’s peculiar little sense of humor did amuse her, to be sure.

“So-” Shimmer asks after a bit of silence. “Do you mind if I ask you something, ah… a bit personal, kid?”

“Depends,” Branch said with a shrug. “What is it?”

“What was it like? Growing up here, I mean,” Shimmer asked.

Branch paused for a moment, to think about it. He looked up at the sky, down at the ground, every which way, except at her.

“Normal, I guess?” He shrugged. “We’re safe here, and I had my brothers. I don’t know what else a guy could want.”

Shimmer supposed she should have expected an answer like that. Of course Branch would see everything as deceptively normal. From the time she spent at the village, she didn’t exactly discover any blood sacrifices or chaos magic rituals happening behind closed doors or anything, and even though John and his brothers had morphed into slightly mythic figures, they weren’t referred to as His Holiness or anything.

“Guess so,” Shimmer replied. “I was just… gone for so long, I’ve been curious, I suppose. About all the changes.”

“There aren’t that many,” Branch mumbled.

“No?”

“No.”

That’s what Branch’s mouth said. But his eyes told a different story.

—----------------------

Shimmer sat down in Bruce’s pod, staring him down.

His hand automatically moved to grab some matchmaker’s tarot cards when Shimmer lowered it before he could.

He glanced up at her, confused.

“Don’t,” She grunted. “I’m not here for that. I don’t even want to know.” The sooner she could stop Bruce from doing the matchmaking thing, the better. There was a whole nest of hornets there- and whatever he said about her “potential prospects” would just remind her that a part of her never moved on from John Dory.

“Then-” Bruce furrowed his brow, leaning back. “What are you here for?”

Shimmer gave him a surprised glance. “For you. Is that so hard to believe?”

Bruce scoffed, leaning on one of his hands as he pressed his elbow onto the table. “Usually people come to the matchmaker’s pod because they want their match made, miss Shimmer. And yet, here you are, asking for me and not even wanting a match while you’re here! I think that makes you the strange one.”

Shimmer groaned. “Neither of us are strange, Bruce, don’t play this game with me-”

Bruce laughed. “Oh, man- I did miss this. How is it that I’m always able to get under your skin?”

“I don’t know, you little devil-” Shimmer snorted. She cleared her throat, combing some hair out of her face. “But- that’s the only part that feels like it hasn’t changed, after all this time. What’s someone like you doing with a job like… this?”

Bruce frowned. “Are you trying to imply this isn’t a real job? The village won’t like that.”

Shimmer furrowed her brow, putting a hand up. “That’s not what I said. I mean- this job feels so prestigious. And everyone I asked about you immediately followed ‘Bruce’ up with ‘The matchmaker’. Doesn’t that… bother you at all?”

“Would it really matter if it did?” Bruce said with a shrug.

“I mean-!” Shimmer gave an exasperated sigh. “I… I just want to understand. Everyone here is used to this, used to you all being leaders, I was just…” She shrugged. “I guess I was just hoping an old friend might be able to help me stop sticking out like a sore thumb.”

Bruce frowned, studying Shimmer’s face and body language. She seemed to be sincere, though her pride clearly held her back from just straight-up begging. And he did feel quite a bit bad for her… it was true that Bruce and Shimmer had been pretty close back when he was Spruce, and back when Shimmer was “JD’s girl”. They got on each others’ nerves endlessly, but that was almost part of the charm.

…He could use something like that again, perhaps. Nowadays, the only teasing he could get away with was either to Baby Branch or doing something so subtle to JD and Floyd that most other people shouldn’t be able to notice.

“...Being a matchmaker is fine,” Bruce began to speak. “I’m rarely ever wrong, I’ll have you know. People trust me, and I like that. It feels… good to be trusted, I guess.”

He took out a tarot card from his deck, studying it. “I mean- I’m trusted for manners of romance, friendship, intimacy… But nobody is puttin’ pressure onto me to be a leader. In a way, I guess… I’ve got the best job in town.”

“Still,” Shimmer said quietly. “I wouldn’t mind hanging out with Bruce-the-man instead of Bruce-the-matchmaker. If you can bear taking some time off your busy schedule.”

Bruce tilted his head noncommittally. “I’ll think about it. Gotta keep up appearances, y’know. That’s a big part of everything.”

“I guess,” Shimmer half heartedly agreed. “Not that I’d know.”

“It’s good that you don’t,” Bruce replied, an oddly soft tone in his voice. So soft that Shimmer dare not toe the line and ask him to elaborate on that. Her absence of a question, though, left the two of them sitting in the candlelit room in silence.

“...So what’s the story behind the new name?” Shimmer asked to break it.

“Eh,” Bruce waved a hand casually. “I wanted a reinvention.”

Shimmer paused, mulling that over. “It suits you,” She said, finally.

“Thanks,” Bruce smirked. He held up a hand, tilting it towards her. Between his fingers was a tarot card.

“Hey! I thought I told you not to do the matchmaking thing!” Shimmer protested with a frown.

“Relax, miss Shimmer,” Bruce replied coyly. “This one’s just about your social standing.”

She took the card from him, studying it- oh. It was The Star.

“It means renewal,” Bruce said simply.

—--------------------------

“Morning, Floyd. I’d apologize for interrupting but I feel like that ship’s sailed already,” Shimmer grunted, going to sit on a mat near where Floyd was meditating.

He cracked an eye open, glancing over at her. “...Shimmer,” He said with a simple nod.

She began stretching her legs, grunting every so often- this type of stuff didn’t come as easy to her as she wanted it to.

“...Why did you come back?” Floyd asked bluntly. That made Shimmer stop in her tracks, glancing over at the younger troll with a befuddled look on her face.

Floyd put his hands up in a gesture of false surrender. “I don’t mean it like that! Don’t misunderstand! It’s just… one doesn’t just wander back into a place like this without reason.”

“Well- it’s home,” Shimmer admitted, bending down to touch her toes. “I was feeling… disoriented. Like I had lost myself. I didn’t know where else to go, so… I came back home.”

“Yeah, sure, but… you said it yourself. This place has changed. So, I guess, a better question would be… what made you stay?” Floyd asked as he bent himself into a different position. His tone was casual and calm, but there was a certain hunger in his eyes that let Shimmer know that he was very invested in this line of conversation.

Shimmer’s mouth went dry. That… that was a good question. Especially since Floyd was playing a bit of a dangerous game, where she would make a major social faux pas if she wasn’t careful- Floyd was implying that someone coming to the village and staying there was strange. Of course, it was a perfectly safe place, but Shimmer knew she and Floyd both could feel the gated-community vibe of the village where nobody ever comes in and nobody ever comes out. She counted herself damn lucky that they even let her in at all.

“...I suppose I’d say- it’s because some part of this place didn’t change,” Shimmer mumbled.

“Really?” Floyd asked, stretching one of his legs to the sky.

“Really. That’s what keeps me here… I think. It’s all very confusing, this new village stuff, but when I look at all my old friends here… I guess I can’t help but see the boys I used to know,” Shimmer bashfully said as if she was admitting a crime.

“So you really believe that…” Floyd said quietly. “And- is it the same with me?”

“Sure it is,” Shimmer said, rolling over to be on her stomach as she grabbed one of her legs. “You were always the one who sat in the back, weren’t you? Just… watching. Soaking it all in. I still see a lot of that in you today. With Branch and Bruce, too, the more I talk to them, the more I realize there’s still parts of you I’ve met before.”

She sighed. “Stupid, I know.”

“No, I don’t think it’s stupid at all…” Floyd replied. “I… I think it’s kinda nice, actually.”

He smiled, looking up at the roof of the large cave they called home. He let the moment sit for a bit.

“Sometimes… I don’t really feel like that boy anymore. I don’t feel like I was ever him at all. It’s… confusing, I guess,” Floyd said at last.

“Ugh, tell me about it-” Shimmer grunted, stretching out another one of her joints. “I was looking at an old poster of myself yesterday, and it was like- who WAS she?”

Floyd gave a gentle little laugh. “I guess we’re more alike than we thought, then. It’s… nice.”

“I don’t get to talk to people much about this stuff,” Floyd continued. “Me, Johnny and the others try to be strong… for the village. So- it just… doesn’t come up.”

Shimmer gave him a nervous glance. “I’m not stepping over a line, am I? You’d tell me if I broke some sort of village rule. You would. Right?”

“Calm down,” Floyd squeaked desperately. “You’re fine.”

Shimmer sighed. “Sorry… sorry. It’s just-”

“A lot, yeah,” Floyd finished. “That’s the village for you.”

—-------------------------

Shimmer was never sure if it was her place to mourn Clay or not. She had known him once, but at the same time, that was a long time ago. Was it illogical that she felt like she didn’t deserve to mourn him like his brothers did? Maybe. But she couldn’t change how she felt.

Still, that wouldn’t stop her from leaving some lily-of-the-valleys near his memorial spot every now and again.

“Sorry I missed you, Clay,” She murmured. “I would have liked to have gotten to know who you grew into.”

—---------------

Shimmer wasn’t looking forward to this. She wasn’t looking forward to any of this. In fact, she had taken extreme, deliberate steps to avoid this from happening.

But what she hadn’t accounted for was bumping into John Dory on his stupid shitty morning walk, DAMMIT-

He dusted himself off, clearly taking on a facial expression that was preparing for an apology, only for him to realize exactly who it was he had bumped into. Right- the troll he hadn’t talked to since he initially told the village to let her in.

Oh, yeah.

Also, his ex.

“...Shimmer,” He was the first one to cut through the silence as he looked up at her, adjusting his scarf. “You look… well.”

Shimmer scoffed, looking away. “You and I both know that’s a gross exaggeration.”

John frowned as she looked away. That caught her eye. She coughed, immediately trying to steer the ship of a conversation back on topic. Much as this was her old flame… this guy was also someone she clearly didn’t want to get on the bad side of. Best not to get… too testy.

“But- other than looking like I rolled out of bed basically every day, I’ve been-” She sighed. “Fine. How about… you? How- uh- how have you been?”

John Dory blinked once or twice, not expecting her to turn the question back on him. “Me? Oh, yes, I’ve been great, as usual. Never a bad day here in the village. Heh. You haven’t… been having any trouble, have you? I know the villagers can get a bit testy with… ‘new’ people.”

Shimmer shook her head no, folding her arms. “No, it’s been fine. Just… just fine.”

“Good… and you’ve been behaving too… right?” He said- although his tone was light as a feather, he knew the underlying meaning in what he said- here was a girl he had been close with before she disappeared- She could drag him back down to feeling mortality, be so casual with him in a way he hadn’t felt from anyone besides his brothers in years- and if she wanted to disprove his lie, he’d have to put whatever feelings he still had for her aside. For the sake of the village.

“You think so low of me, John,” Shimmer scoffed, rolling her eyes. “Yes, I’ve been behaving. I’m a guest here- guests follow the host’s policies, and they’re thankful. That’s how I was raised.”

“Good!” JD chirped. “I wasn’t too worried about that,” He lied. It slipped naturally off his tongue as smooth as butter.

Shimmer paused, looking him up and down some more. He looked at her looking at him, waiting to see her reaction and cautiously preparing for it.

“...It’s a bit of a different look for you, I’ll admit, but… I don’t hate it,” Shimmer spoke with a shrug. “The red looks nice.”

John laughed, flicking an earring. “Ahhh- thank you. It does, doesn’t it? I’ll admit, your look was a bit surprising, too. You’ve really changed, I almost didn’t-”

He paused, not wanting to finish the sentence… but Shimmer knew what he was going to say.

I almost didn’t recognize you.

She knew that’s what he wanted to say, because she thought it when she first saw him.

Jeez, what were they? They used to be a teen hot couple, the poster boy and poster girl for puppy-love… But here she was, a disgraced pop troll who couldn’t sing… and there he was. The hero and saviour of an entire village.

It was more obvious to her now than it was to her than that him even noticing her at all was… nothing but a stroke of luck. A fluke. There he was, brilliant, important, in control… And then there was her. A total mess. A flop. She felt like an intruder in the village, and now, being face-to-face with JD only made things worse. In every other brother, she saw that past part of them she once knew, but with John, she felt like she was only reminded of her own insecurities, her own failings.

She swerved past him, eyes firmly trained onto the ground.

“I’ll get out of your way, John,” She mumbled half-heartedly, trying to just put a miserable end to the conversation and stop her mind from attacking herself so loudly. But as soon as she started walking, she found herself unable to keep going. Locked around her arm was none other than JD’s hand. She glanced back, looking at him in confusion.

“Wait,” He started. “...Come over to my pod sometime. You, ah, need to update me more on how you’re settling in. Yes. As the village leader… it’s part of my responsibilities, y’know? So- don’t leave me hanging.”

Shimmer’s breath caught in her throat. She hated the idea of seeing him more, and yet, the fact that he had requested her presence specifically… It made her heart skip a beat.

“...Sure, yes,” She replied quietly.

She expected John to let her go at this point, but he kinda just kept staring at her in silence for a while. Somehow, she found herself staring back.

“...I’ve missed you,” He confessed with a breathy whisper.

Shimmer tried to muster back a reply, but words failed her. She tried again, and again-

“I didn’t even think that was possible,” She finally said back.

#mothra answers #trolls #brotherhood au #shimmer #DANCES.

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aranarumei · 8 months

Text

the stranger in the hall

hey @dirtbra1n I’ve been thinking abt ur dating sim au recently so I wrote smthing. under the cut as usual

shirahama’s gotten used to looking around while he walks. by now, it’s a comfortable rhythm—he glanced through windows, into shadows and dilapidated corners, catches passing expressions on the faces of strangers.

he’s not obvious enough for the people he’s watching to notice—or, well, more accurately, he’s not important enough for them to care—but he’s pretty sure tashiro has figured out why he seems zoned out lately. recently it seems like he’s been looking out for something, too, and it’s pulled shirahama’s attention back to the point that they end up hazily conversing whenever they’re walking together. recently it’s been about the injustice of sports clubs.

it’s a delicate balance. shirahama can’t ask if tashiro’s started having feelings—he can just hope against all odds. miyano seems to like him well enough, a fact which sometimes makes shirahama vindictively think, tashiro’s my friend, and then stew in misery.

he’d been his friend back when shirahama had played his character route, too. it was a nice route in hindsight—barely romantic and with a large focus on just learning about the ensemble cast. tashiro had been a comforting, reassuring presence amongst a cast of strange characters.

shirahama wasn’t a faceless protagonist anymore—he was a might-as-well-be-faceless side character, which wasn’t better or worse—but his relationship with tashiro had stayed.

he’s on his lonesome today, though. judging by how deserted the hallways are, he’s definitely late for class, but since he can’t remember a single thing about exams in the game, he figures he’s safe.

well, hirano talked about exams constantly. they’d had so many study dates used as blatant excuses to flirt instead of doing math. but shirahama hadn’t even cared much when he was… well. he didn’t know if he was still alive or not.

the other reason why the hallways are so deserted is that there’s an Event, and the moment shirahama recognizes this possibility is also when he sees a hunched over figure leaning against the hallway wall, face obscured. shirahama’s gotten so used to these kinds of situations happening that the first thing he checks for is the sound of miyano’s footsteps approaching.

…why does he know that?

the halls are silent. in a split second, shirahama watches the guy in front of him go almost deathly still, before his knees buckle and—

there’s a strangled voice pressed against his chest. shirahama leaps back on instinct, and the person who’d almost taken a dive two seconds ago squints at him with unfocused emotion. finally he slowly lowers himself into a sitting position on the floor and offers shirahama a wan smile. “you also late for class?”

he looks around even though he already know there’s no one in sight, and then plops down next to him. “you okay?” he asks, wondering if it’s something he’s allowed to ask. the guy may not have noticed him until now, but shirahama had spent a solid minute watching him sway around without moving.

“yeah,” the stranger breathes. “I’ve just got a weak stomach.”

“ah.”

they sit in silence for a bit. shirahama watches as the stranger tangles his fingers together in awkward patterns. he’s never seen him before, but that’s not unusual. “what’s your name?” he asks.

“you can call me ichinose. you?”

“…shirahama.” it’s been a while since he’s introduced himself to others. tashiro had already known his name, and most other people hadn’t been around him long enough to find out.

“…you should probably head to class, you know,” ichinose says. “I’ll be fine here.”

“oh, um, it’s fine,” shirahama says, unsure how to clarify that he’d just been zoning out instead of looking after him. “I’m not too excited to go, anyways…”

ichinose frowns. “well, as long as it’s not an exam I guess it’s okay,” he says. “I always end up getting really sick on those days and it’s—“ he shakes his head. “it’s not a big deal. I hope whatever’s bothering you… stops doing that, I guess.”

“random question,” shirahama says. “do you know… there’s this first year. some guy named… miyano?” the name rests oddly in his mouth. he wonders if he’s been able to say it correctly this time—without feeling.

“who?”

“random question. don’t worry about it.” his shoulders relax just a bit. “it’s… I don’t know. it’s like it’s not one thing that bothers me. it’s a bunch of really small things that feel weird to say out loud, because all of them are really just… one thing.”

ichinose snorts. “here I thought I was being vague.”

despite himself, shirahama smiles. “like I said, it’s weird to say out loud.”

he’d have to explain the reason why he’s learned to recognize footsteps. the strange kind of sickness he’d felt when running into ichinose. knowing the limits of what could and could happen to him. it was never a simple thing.

the glassy tone to ichinose’s gaze has abruptly sharpened. when he turns his head to look at shirahama it’s piercing, and he stares at him like he’s seen a ghost. his lips part in surprise. “you like someone.”

he gets chills so violent it feels like his back could snap. “what?”

ichinose has turned his gaze to the floor. “well,” he says, “since I’m graduating this year and I really doubt we’ll run into each other after that… like recognizes like, or whatever.”

nice, shirahama thinks, the game never had any love interests that are third years when you’re a first year. then he feels mortified. “and it’s a…” he trails off.

“um. yeah,” ichinose says, picking the dirt out of his fingernails. “it’s not really a—even if he wasn’t… it’s kind of a hopeless effort, you know? but I still…”

a tightness abruptly seizes shirahama’s throat. “yeah,” he manages to get out. “I know.”

#kiri.txt #my writing #dating sim au #harusono #shirahama kyouji #wrote some of this without glasses so if there’s typos I’m sorry #also I did write it all on my phone. that too #shiramiya

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rywritten · 2 years

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Not like a headcannon or an au but what’s your favorite au or headcannon for technodreamnap or dnb/ dreamnap idc!

I like hearing ppls headcannond or personal favorite au’s

Though Im not sure if you’ve answered this before and if you have then my apologies! But, I think you’re a really cool writer and overall a really cool person to see on my dash! Have a fantastic week and i hope you have a great day/ night.

*holds this ask in my hands gently* thank you for enjoying my stuff, anon 😭❤️ i hope you're having an amazing week as well!

also, i love getting asks like this, so don't feel like you're bothering me at all bc i love to ramble abt all my hcs and aus tbh

as for my technodreamnap hcs/aus (i have so many and when it comes to fic ideas, i honestly don't know what to work on first lmao)

okay, enough about me rambling let's get started! (just a heads up that this got way out of hand pretty fast bc im a loose canon when it comes to talking about my thoughts about the ships i like lmao i hope you dont mind anon!)

dreamnoblade hcs:

trust is a very big aspect of their relationship. something about two broken beings who has never been shown real love or affection and has given up on people and love as a result.. meeting each other and learning to love the other because if there’s anyone out there who can love the monster that i’ve become, then it would be someone who’s equally as awful.

just two characters with a sad backstory (who learned it the hard way not to get attached to others pretty early on in their life) managing to find comfort and solace in the other’s presence.. they learn to show the other that they are capable to feel love and to be loved in return though mutual trust because they get what the other person has going through (maybe not entirely, but they've been hurt too - they know what it’s like to hurt all over without a helping hand to anchor them - and that makes all the difference)

techno is insanely overprotective of dream. this is the only hc that i will never change in any of my dnb fics. techno (the moment he has fallen in love with dream) will be so overprotective because dream is THE object of his affection, basically ranking as the highest person on his short list of the people he actually cares about, and he as his infamous saying goes “the only thing that works in this world is that you treat others as they treat you those who have treated me with kindness. i will repay that kindness, tenfold. and those that treat me with injustice, that use me, that hunt me down, that hurt my friends. i shall repay that injustice a thousand times over.” his character is a big fan of an getting even and not letting others who have hurt him get away with it. and if he’s willing to repay an injustice (namely others hurting those he considers his friends,) he will make sure to repay that transgression a thousand times over, so imagine how much worse it would be to anyone who dared to hurt dream (the person techno loves) basically im obsessed with techno going batshit insane whenever dream gets hurt

speaking of obsessed, there’s this line by chirstopher marlowe that i always associate with how i see their dynamic, it goes:

"why should you love him whom the world hates so?"

"because he loves me more than the world."

(this is literally dreamnoblade, idc idc their love is just so more powerful, it’s weight is heavier and far stronger than any other force in this world that they are so willing to disregard anything else (morals, humanity, their own preservation) because they know - they know - that the other loves them more than anything this world has to offer

also they are two touch starved men that are slowly learning to open up to each other (not just through their thoughts and emotions, but also through gestures, comforting touches here and there, maybe a pat on the back, a hug at night, a soft kiss on the cheek) the first time dream probably hugged techno, the man combusts.. just down right stops working (error 404) because of the sheer surprise of the action and the overwhelming feeling that overtook him from the brief contact.

some soft dreamnoblade hc:

dream likes the feeling of techno’s cloak wrapped around him and how techno is definitely a whole lot taller than him, and it makes him feel small (which rarely happens given his height) the feeling is unfamiliar yet comforting bc it gives him a sense of safety and security to be around him

they bicker like an old married couple bc techno loves messing with dream and dream is just “you wanna go?”

they geek out about books (greek mythology especially) together and have in-depth discussions about who the best pjo character is (percy for dream / leo for techno)

they cuddle post war and mayhem (its their way to destress)

fav dreamnobalde aus that im an absolute sucker:

anything that can give me that sweet, sweet opposing forces having to work together in order to defeat a common enemy with lots of ust!! so royalty aus are great for this!

also maybe something really angsty like reincarnation aus where they keep meeting each other through different lifetimes, but one of them (dream) keeps meeting a very cruel demise as soon as they fall in love while the other (techno) is the only one to remember anything 😢

also a canon divergent fic where dream escapes prison pretty early and goes to techno for help

dreamnap hcs:

they have the best friends to enemies to lovers dynamic, ever. period. you can’t change my mind. they carried this entire trope on their backs, sorry any other piece of media that tried to use this trope, but dreamnap has you beat 👋

something about two people with shared history is just the bestest, most delicious, compelling dynamic in the world... exes. old friends. childhood friends. old friends who are no longer friends. decade long slowburns. multi decade slowburns. the works... that’s dreamnap

just dreamnap being friends to enemies to lovers is jsut so intimate. the whole “i know you i know everything about you i have told you all my deepest secrets and you have told me yours and now i am trying to kill you literally or metaphorically because hate and love are separated by a very thin line and i don't know which side i am on” this is basically the whole spiel sapnap gives dream at prison that goes “dream... if you try and break out early... you only have one life left, okay? and, you know, i don't think it's gonna be tommy, it's not gonna be techno, dream. if you break out of this prison, it's gonna be- it's gonna be me who takes your final life.”

but also focusing on their history and friendship, dreamnap is basically that entire prospect of someone becoming a home. dream not knowing what love and affection was due to his horrible upbringing and meeting sapnap who’s literal love language is acts of service?

ive always thought that it was sapnap who taught dream what it means to be loved, just the whole unmet childhood need for unconditional love and safety... dream is a very distrustful character by nature and sapnap definitely had to be gentle with him, taking his time to show that he means no harm and dream learning to actually lower his guard for the reward of actually being loved in return... subjecting himself to the mortifying ordeal of being known

their shared history definitely mean being so attuned to each other’s needs and temperament, they’re sensitive to the subtle change in the other’s emotions/actions and are able to sense something’s wrong without having to ask

also would like to say that their teamwork is unparalleled. just the sheer understanding that they have of each other’s thoughts (strategy and implementation) and skills when it comes to fighting together is the most badass thing to witness, a turn of their wrist a subtle shift in their posture and the other just knows.

also going back to the enemies with a shared past.. ive already said it before but i want to point out how they most definitely still have feeling for each other even after all that they’ve been through because they’re two codependent characters that probably can’t stand the thought of being away from each other (no matter how many times they say they hate the other and that they never want to see the other person again, they always come back to each other)

just the absolute insanity of the quote: “we make each other alive. does it matter if it hurts?” and how it pretty much represents dreamnap’s iconic (and slightly toxic) and poetic relationship post prison-break.

some soft dreamnap hcs:

they love using nicknames (anytime sapnap calls dream baby boy, darling, love.. it gets to dream and when dream calls sap pandas, sapnap melts)

they have the same mannerisms bc of the years they’ve spent together (their interests are so entwined together bc of it)

they use each other’s clothes a lot

very overprotective of each other, the whole “touch him and you die” whenever someone messes with the other

fav dreamnap aus that im an absolute sucker:

any canon divergence where sapnap finds out what dream’s been going through in the prison, how he sees the dream post torture and he goes ballistic

also super into my limbo au (which you can read here!)

also have been working on a dreamnap role reversal au for months now 😂

some additional technodreamnap hc:

techno and sapnap don’t really get along, they’re not necessarily enemies but they aren’t friends either, they only tolerate the other’s presence bc of dream

they bicker a lot, are both pretty petty and very much in love with dream so they keep trying to one up each other for dream’s attention

both sapnap and techno are overprotective and over powered, will really fuck shit up when dream gets hurt

dream can handle himself just fine bc he’s dream. the other two are just arm candy (lmao)

when together, other people around them start fearing for their lives

the calamity trio (they being forth chaos, calamity, and destruction where ever they go)

alright, i guess that’s it for now. if you’ve managed to read this entire post without wanting to bang your head to the wall from the word vomit, congrats and ily! 🥳👏♥️

#ry talks meta #ry.plies #dreamnap #dnb #thanks for indulging me with this ask anon #i hope you got something out of this mess of a meta #i will it stop talking about the technodreamnap agenda #it needs to be perceived!!

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liloinkoink · 2 years

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hi, loved the ficlet! if you don't mind elaborating a little, what's going on with this fantasy au, where's the story start?

(@galaxyofender also sent me an ask abt the beginning after this sent so i’m @‘ing them as well)

yeah sure! the au is basically just… three scenes i have pretty clear visuals for, that short piece being one of them. j made the entire thing up yesterday so it’s not Extremely fleshed out beyond ren and martyn. au takes inspiration from three main sources: 1) third life renchanting dynamic. 2) martyn’s watcher lore. 3) ren’s affinity for fire in last life

i’ll. read more this cuz it’s gonna be a bit long

so. martyn starts with the watchers. they’re, y’know, standard dnd spooky eldritch cult fare for the most part. i don’t rlly know what they want with him, but i know that he's stuck with them and has been stuck for a while. he’s trying to leave but they've got the whole town/area locked down, and so it’s just not feasible to do on his own

the watchers have settled in a city that was abandoned some time ago when it came under siege. they’ve done what they could to stamp out any trace of the city’s original occupants so they could insert themselves and their own patron, but martyn’s not got anywhere else to go, so while he’s looking for something to help him escape he stumbles upon stories of the original city’s patron god

bc of an active attempt to destroy what remained, there’s a lot of holes in what martyn finds. martyn can’t figure out the god’s name, for example, or where he came from or what happened to the city. but martyn finds that he was powerful. he could walk the world like a mortal, and was known to enhance and bless tools or armor, supporting the city’s occupants with gear that never broke and axes that never dulled. he was there when the city fell, too—he defeated their enemies by freezing them, but in the process turned himself to stone. martyn can’t find what happened to the god after that, but the story sticks in his mind

at some point, martyn finds a locked door deep below the city. when he opens it he finds a mostly empty room, minus a fire and… something, just out of the reach of the firelight. it’s weird enough there’s a fire there—who is even tending to it, all the way down here? but weirder still is the fact he can’t see anything else. he grabs a stick and dips it in the fire, and when he holds it up he sees a statue.

he doesn’t know what the god looks like, but he doesn’t need to know to realize just what exactly he’s found

so he looks up into stone eyes and he says listen, we're in a pretty similar spot here, you know. if you can help me get out of here, ill start following you. I'm not really a paladin, but i'll see what i can do. neither of us have better options.

and for a second… absolutely nothing happens. martyn stands in the dark and feels a bit like an idiot. before he can make some self-deprecating comment about talking to ghosts, the fire in the basin goes out entirely. the only glow left is his torch, and then it isn’t. the remaining fire in the basin goes out. the torch in his hand glows brighter, and then one by one, martyn's tools start to glow. his armor, his axe, his sword, each a shimmering purple, alight with the blessing of a god

that boost is enough to help martyn escape the city, flame in hand, though i’m… not totally sure when martyn makes the connection between the torch in his hand and the god he prayed to. i think it’s more likely some watcher says it instead—someone sees him running around with a torch that doesn’t dim and a glowing axe and goes oh shit, he’s freed the red king! and martyn is like i’ve huh. that, and/or ren, attempting to help martyn escape with his life, sets someone spontaneously on fire. maybe a mix of both

once they’ve escaped this becomes martyn and ren traveling montage playing far too much 20 questions which ren is comedically bad at and martyn getting odd looks every time he casually enters a building with a fuck-off huge lantern. after that it becomes a quest to get ren a body of his own!

#anonymous #oink asks #lamplight au

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chryzure-archive · 2 years

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HEY MEMMY!! I haven’t been on here in a hot minute but I saw that you’re still sick and I want to say that I’m sending you the BIGGEST hugs!! I hope you get through this soon and you’ll be able to go back to normal, you’re such a champ for powering through and still keeping that spark even when you feel so bad :,,) Keeping you in my thoughts and telepathically sending you healing vibes 💓 Since I’m here though— any Chrysijacks thoughts you’d like to share? Any particular AUs/music/otherwise 👀👀

HELLO KAI!!! thanks for the hugs ;;;; i need them. thank god for kingdom hearts bc i would’ve already lost my mind by now.

CHRYSIJACKS THOUGHTS??? i have MANY, all of them all over the place. i’ve been thinking abt their domestic life a lot—like chrysi sitting on the kitchen island counter cross-legged, talking on one of those big 90s landline phones, while she (and simeon, on the other line) make fun of jacks’s attempts of making food. it’s mostly a mental image rn, and i need to draw it, but YEAH!!! yeah…

OR thinking abt them at the beach house… idk who the beach house belongs to or why, but they’re the cute couple that walks along the beach (think northern beaches btw… like a washington beach!) and they hang out at the lighthouse and they investigate the ghostly singing coming from the ocean together :) actually, that does vaguely relate with my chrysijacks haven au (not to be confused w/ my chrysigil haven au), where jacks and chrysi are investigating strange happenings in their little beach town. they fall in love, obvi. then jacks has… a lot of shit happen to him, and long story short, he has to pretend he doesn’t remember or love chrysi anymore and it HURTS. but i love it. it makes me smile. plus, azure pisses jacks off enough for jacks to reveal he never lost his feelings for chrysi in the first place. fun times!

okay, this is also neither here nor there, but between you and me—jacks can’t fucking drive to save his life. once chrysi had to put him at the wheel while she was shooting at a creature chasing them and she decided after that, she’d rather take her chances with the creature on foot. once, they had emery take the wheel instead. the girl just got her permit. still a better driver than jacks. a much better driver than jacks.

some Music Thoughts… okay, jumping back to the au thing, hear me out. i was listening to i won’t say (i’m in love) from hercules—as everyone should do daily—and honestly?? honestly??? chrysijacks au where jacks is meg…. i’m JUST SAYING, it makes SENSE. maybe make a double au where chrysi’s meg and jacks is a much more annoying hercules :) i’ve always got three versions of the same au kicking around in the back of my head.

ALSO, NIGHTMARE BEFORE CHRISTMAS AU WOULD WORK FOR THEM AS WELL??? jacks being jack is OBVIOUS, but also i of course add more drama… thinking thinking thinking.

ANYWAY, MUSIC. some songs i’ve been thinking abt them particularly hard to:

second best // younger hunger

fan behavior // isaac dunbar

the red means i love you // madds buckley

clementine // grentperez (omg… an eternal sunshine of the spotless mind au… OK, I’M DONE, SORRY, SORRY. idk if this song is related to that movie, but it makes me think of it anyway ;;;; )

obligatory come what may // nicole kidman, ewan mcgregor… can’t stop thinking of moulin rouge for one second

anima // xi

curses // the crane wives

intoxicated // undecided future

this is love // air traffic controller

FAIRYTALE // ALEXANDER RYBAK… VERY CHRYSIJACKSCORE

OKAY OKAY, I’M DONE.. FINAL THOUGHT: PIRATES OF THE CARIBBEAN CHRYSIJACKS AU. I LEAVE YOU WITH THAT.

#.asks #m.kai💛#s.chrysijacks #IVE MISSED YOUUUUUUUU #you can’t come back and ask me to talk abt them… i will NOT shut up <//3 #i can’t be coherent either RIP #but i needed this today bc my temp spiked and i’ve been feeling gross #but anyway. one last chrysijacks thought insp by the new book *shudders*: murder curse on chrysi and jacks is VERY upset abt it #guess he’ll jst have to transfer it to himself //shrugs #haven’t read the book yet but ppl that have gotten arcs have talked abt i #anyway. love putting songs here and not specifying WHY i think abt chrysi and jacks to them :>

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hermannsthumb · 3 years

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Town council Hermann vs Alien Conspiracy Newt please!!!

THIS WAS FUN!!! inspired both by this tweet and conversations abt a newt/herm AU of that tweet with @k-sci-janitor (who also thought of the funniest sign newt made in this fic, aka the cheekbones one, and what his tats should look like). this is long sorry :/ gets a little spicy towards the end but nothing worse than a high pg13/light M

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

The evening of the weekly town council meeting, it pours like nothing else. Which Hermann figures is really quite appropriate. Loathe as he is to soak his trouser legs, trudge through the mud that used to be his front walk, and hold his umbrella for so long his arm aches (for the community center is a mere half-mile walk away that Hermann can't justify substituting with a bus), he can't imagine council meetings happening in any other sort of weather. In fact, they rarely tend to; their dreariness seems to be a necessity, part of the preparation, as if to put everyone in as miserable a mood as possible.

Hermann hates council meetings. He supposes he'd be more sympathetic towards the plights of his constituents—if one can call one's neighbors constituents—if he'd wanted the damned job in the first place. As it is, he feels a bit like he was conned into it. Hermann had been a lowly physics professor at the local community college, passionate about public education and funding for public education and all those proper sorts of things an educator ought to be concerned about, when he suddenly found himself seized with the idea of making a difference. So he ran for a head position on the council. And he won it. Only no one told him that the council deals a lot less with public education and a lot more with noise complaints, cul-de-sac bake sales, and raccoons in dustbins, which makes why he ran completely unopposed all the more obvious.

A fat raindrop explodes against the edge of Hermann's umbrella and splashes his glasses. Hermann grits his teeth and wipes them dry with the cuff of his sweater. Bloody meeting; bloody rain; Hermann just wants to go back home, and fix up a nice pot of herbal tea, and set a blanket in the dryer for ten minutes, and...

"Dr. Gottlieb! Hey, Dr. Gottlieb, wait—!"

A blur in an oversized yellow raincoat hurdles itself at Hermann from the stairs of the community center. Hermann considers pretending he is a different Dr. Gottlieb, one who certainly has no reason to know maniacs in raincoats, or maybe high-tailing it in the other direction. This is the other reason why Hermann loathes council meetings: Newton Geiszler.

The unfortunate thing is that Newton Geiszler was, at one point, a respectable academic type, and in fact one of Hermann's own colleagues at the community college. (Hermann only found this out after the fact—he does not make a habit of intermingling much with the biology department.) And Hermann does mean was. Around a year ago, Geiszler was asked to temporarily step down from his position after he suddenly and unexpectedly went off the deep end. He has not been asked to come back yet. And not without reason. "Dr. Geiszler," Hermann sighs. "I've asked you not to lurk about here like that. It's...unsettling."

"Sorry, man, sorry," Geiszler shouts. He stomps over and makes himself at home under Hermann's umbrella. Hermann's not sure how he's been managing to see anything, let alone Hermann approaching down the sidewalk: his glasses are completely fogged-up and rain-splattered. "Do you mind if—thanks, dude."

Geiszler flips his hood down. He’s short, only coming up to Hermann's nose, with stubble nearly overgrown to a full beard and a mess of wet brown hair. He shakes that hair now, like a dog, soaking Hermann in the process. Hermann growls. "I beg your pardon,” he says.

"Oops,” Geiszler says. “Sorry. Anyway, Dr. Gottlieb, I'm really glad I caught you, there are—there are some things I wanted to tell you about. Before the meeting. They're—hold on." He rummages around in the deep pockets of his raincoat and produces a damp notebook, which he begins to flip through frantically. "It's about—"

"I know what it's about," Hermann says. Geiszler fumbles to push his glasses back up his nose. "In fact, there are some things I need to speak with you about as well."

"You've seen them?" Geiszler says in a hushed tone.

Hermann scowls. "I certainly have.”

They first started cropping up in the forest around the little cabin Geiszler calls home. Then, like dandelions or bamboo, they spread fast and far—to the town commons, in the front lawn of the coffee shop Hermann frequents, in front of his house. Whenever Hermann dashes one down with his cane or hauls one off to a rubbish bin, two more only crop up in its place. It's annoying, frankly. As if Hermann doesn't have to deal with enough already.

3 ALIEN ABDUCTIONS IN ONE WEEK - WHEN IS THE COUNCIL GOING TO DO SOMETHING?, the new one sitting in front of the community center says.

It's better than last week's sign, Hermann supposes. THE TRUTH IS OUT THERE - AND HERMANN GOTTLIEB IS BLIND TO IT.

"You know you need a permit for those, Dr. Geiszler," Hermann says. "Or, at the very least, the council's permission. They're a public nuisance."

"My signs are a public nuisance?" Geiszler shouts. Hermann flinches back. Geiszler may be compact, but if he doesn't have the shrillest voice on the whole damned planet. "Open your eyes, dude! A dozen people went missing last month! The only public nuisance is whatever's coming from—" He bites his lip and jabs his finger at the sky, as if saying anything remotely akin to outer space would suddenly send fleets of UFOs pouring down from above. "And you're just letting them walk right fucking in."

“I thought they were flying in?" Hermann says. He raps Geiszler’s shin with the end of his cane. "Do get out of my way, Dr. Geiszler. The meeting starts in ten minutes, and you're welcome to air all of your grievances then."

Geiszler is silent as Hermann ducks around him and ascends the community center ramp. For a moment, Hermann thinks he may have won this small victory, and then he hears the wet slaps of Geiszler's rain boots against the pavement behind him. "Really funny," Newton says. "Real fucking funny, dude. I bet it'll be just as funny when they come for you next!"

Hermann unlocks the door. Geiszler waves a stack of black-and-white polaroids beneath his nose. "I took these last week," Geiszler says, and begins flipping through them as frantically as he had his notepad. Each one is blurry and indistinct, like Geiszler snapped them through a gauzy curtain with shaking hands. Hermann's not sure what he's meant to be looking at. "The day that waitress went missing from the bus stop. And two nights after that—your neighbor, the one who went outside to let his cat in and never came b—"

"Enough," Hermann says. He pushes the polaroids away, knocking two to the ground, and Geiszler scrambles to pick them up before they're ruined. "Dr. Geiszler, it is undoubtedly tragic that these people have—er—vanished, as they have, but continuously insisting extraterrestrials had something to do with it, and furthermore—" Geiszler opens his mouth as if to argue, but Hermann raises his voice and pushes on. "—furthermore, that I'm meant to do something about it, is completely—well, it's unhinged, frankly. I'm not law enforcement. Or the mayor. Or bloody—NASA. What do you want from me?"

Geiszler stares at him for a long time. He pockets his photographs. "They're gonna come for you," he says, ominously. "Just like they did for me."

The meeting goes off as expected, which is to say, badly. Hermann gets shouted at by nearly everyone in town, many of whom blame Hermann and his presumed negligence for the disappearances over the past year as well (blessedly, they don't also blame aliens), though many more of them blame him for more trivial things such as the broken water fountain in the commons or the library's slow wireless internet. Hermann can't decide which is worse.

As it is, when the clock strikes eight, he's more than ready to go home. "Right," he announces, standing up and making a show of tidying his meeting notes. They're already tidy: Hermann's notes are always meticulous. He continues—rather quickly, in case someone gets bold and attempts to interrupt him, "Thank you all very much for such a, er, productive meeting. I'll make sure to pass along everything you've said to the appropriate people. If there's nothing else..."

Geiszler jumps to his feet. A few people groan; Hermann has a feeling they're just about as sick of him as Hermann is. "Um, yeah, actually, I want to add something."

"No," Hermann says. “Dr. Geiszler, please, we can talk—”

"When we were outside," Geiszler continues anyway, raising his voice, "you asked me what I wanted you to do. Well, I just want you to listen to me! That's all! I have so much proof—so much I can show you—and you won't even—!"

"Proof?" Hermann says. "Your rubbish photographs?”

"It's not just the photographs! It's other stuff, too! Like—" Geiszler lets out a long, angry huff of air, and actually balls his fists up at his sides. Hermann has never seen him so incensed, not even when he accused Hermann of being an alien himself during a council meeting last summer. "Look, just come to my house and I'll fuckin' show you. Or are you that afraid of being—I don’t know, proven wrong?"

Part of Hermann is convinced that if he follows Geiszler out to his isolated cabin in the middle of the woods, it'll be the last thing he ever does. At the very least, he certainly has no desire to spend more time with Geiszler than he's already forced to. Yet—on the other hand—Hermann does not appreciate the challenge, nor does he appreciate being made to look like a fool by the man who chairs the local paranormal society. "Fine," he snaps, and Geiszler startles in obvious surprise. "Fine, you wretched little man. I’ll let you show me whatever proof you think you may have, so long as you take every single one of those signs down."

"Um," Geiszler squeaks. He clears his throat. "D—deal?"

Hermann seizes his cane and thrusts his chair back under his table roughly. "Well?" he says to the rest of the hall, none of whom have budged since Geiszler began shouting his head off. He scowls at the lot of them. "The meeting is over. You can leave."

It's Hermann's job to shut down the building each week, so he waits for the very last stragglers to toss out their paper water cups, shrug on their raincoats, and file outside before switching off the lights and locking up. He finds Geiszler lurking by a rather worse-for-wear green VW Beetle at the curb, the hood of his raincoat flipped back up over his hair. Hermann desperately hopes that the car isn't Geiszler’s. He is Hermann’s ride home tonight, after all. "I took the signs down," Geiszler says in a rush. "All of the ones around here, anyway. I'll have to do the rest tomorrow." He jerks his thumb at the backseat of the Beetle, where Hermann sees a haphazard pile of some of the 3 ALIEN ABDUCTIONS signs. His heart sinks. The X-Files bumper stickers should've been a dead giveaway, really.

"Thank you," Hermann sighs. "Well, let's get this over with."

"The heat is busted, so you might wanna leave your coat on," Geiszler says apologetically when Hermann manages to squish himself into the passenger's seat. The floor is a sea of empty Dunkin' Donuts cups, stacks of pulp science (or, if Hermann were to be less kind, pseudoscientific) magazines spanning back at least half a decade, and a pin-littered linen tote bag filled to the brim with boxed Annie's macaroni and cheese.

"Uh, sorry," Geiszler says. "I had to run some errands earlier. You can just—toss that in the back. Yeah."

The ride is short but bumpy, and though the removal of Geiszler's shopping bag offers Hermann more leg room, there is nothing that can make up for his tragically awful driving and his tragically awful CD collection. Hermann almost bolts from the car when they finally pull up at Geiszler's ivy-shrouded cabin, so relieved to have made it there in one piece that he's all but forgotten that he must now spend the rest of the evening with Geiszler, too. He remembers soon enough: another duo of aggressive signs have been pounded into Geiszler's mossy front path, TURN BACK NOW - ALIEN ABDUCTION ZONE, and a rather good sketch of Hermann beneath WHAT ARE THOSE CHEEKBONES HIDING? "That one's from the summer," Geiszler says sheepishly, kicking down the latter with the toe of his boot. "I keep forgetting to take it down. I don't still think you're an alien, by the way."

"Er, thank you," Hermann says. "I suppose?"

"They wouldn't be that obvious," Geiszler says, emphasizing the they with a meaningful glance up at the night sky.

"Of course not," Hermann says.

He's not quite sure what he expected Geiszler's house to look like. Some sort of—conspiracy nutter's den, perhaps, with aluminum foil hats and deconstructed radios and elaborate photoboards full of thumbtacks and red string. Or the interior of his car on a larger scale, with empty takeout containers and crumpled up papers on every surface. He's...sort of right. There's a noticeable lack of tinhats, but there are plenty of (modestly-sized) corkboards on the walls and multiple coffee cups peeking out of a recycling bin. The rest is merely precisely what Hermann would expect from an academic in his 30s: books, and mis-matching furniture, and a sink of dishes begging to be washed. It's...a bit disappointing, frankly. Though Hermann is rather impressed with the sleek telescope angled in front of the back slider door. Impressed, and envious. It's a very nice model.

"Make yourself at home," Geiszler says, unzipping his voluminous raincoat and tossing it, along with Hermann's, over the back of a worn armchair. He's wearing a pair of torn skinny jeans and a band t-shirt that reveals his heavily tattooed, and deceptively shapely, arms. Hermann tears his eyes away and forces himself to sit down at one end of Geiszler's couch. "I'm gonna make us some coffee. Do you want any sugar or non-dairy creamer?"

"No, thank you," Hermann says. "I don't drink coffee this late. It'll keep me up all night."

"Well, I hope so, that's kinda the plan,” Geiszler says. He rolls his eyes. “The aliens never come before at least midnight. Soy milk or almond milk?"

Hermann thinks, briefly and longingly, of his nice warm bed, the blanket he intended to toss in the dryer, and the herbal tea he won't be having after all. "Almond milk?" he hazards.

Geiszler stares at him in evident disgust. "Dude, I was kidding. You know how bad that shit is for the environment? It takes, like, a fuckin' thousand gallons of water or something like that for one carton of almond milk. It's insane. I mean, I guess it's still less water than what dairy needs, but there are plenty of better options."

"Oh," Hermann says. Hermann drinks skim milk. "I'm sorry. Er. Soy milk?"

As Geiszler fixes them mugs, Hermann begins to poke around some papers scattered across the coffee table. One is a list of names and dates, seemingly random, Hermann thinks, until he recognizes (scrawled in purple ink at the very bottom of the page) that of the gentleman who disappeared from his back porch just down Hermann's street. When he recognizes another—a teenager who worked as a barista at Hermann’s favorite coffee shop—he realizes it must be everyone who's vanished from town in the past year. Another paper has the same dates repeated, though not alongside any names—rather, bizarre little phrases like circling lights and that sound again. "You found my notes," Geiszler says cryptically, and then thrusts a mug out to Hermann.

Hermann takes the mug. A logo on the side tells Hermann it was from some academic conference in California ten years ago. "What are they supposed to mean?" he says.

Geiszler snorts. "Uh, I thought it was kind of obvious. Look—" He sits next to Hermann, far too close, and points at the column of numbers on the first page. "These are the dates when people have been reported missing," he says, and then scans his finger over to the second page, "and these are the dates when I've observed extraterrestrial—or at least, unexplainable—activity overhead. See how they match up almost perfectly?

"Mm," Hermann says. He does not. "So—if I am to understand you correctly—you believe that a, ah," he takes the page back from Geiszler, "a 'weird swoopy sound' from overhead had something to do with that poor young woman disappearing from a bus stop last week?”

"It wasn't just a weird noise!" Geiszler exclaims. "I showed you the pictures. I ran outside when I heard it, and thank fuck I had my camera, because I caught those lights just as they were leaving. And then what do I find out the next morning? There was another abduction, at almost the exact same time I saw the lights!"

"Ten miles from here," Hermann reminds him. "It would've had to have been a bloody fast ship."

"Yeah, no shit, Hermann," Geiszler says. "They're, like, fucking—mega-advanced lifeforms. They probably have the tech to vaporize the entire Earth if they wanted. Of course it was a fast ship.”

Geiszler is still sitting awfully close to Hermann. He runs very warm, unlike Hermann, warm enough to make Hermann warm too—like a scruffy, tattooed, freckled furnace. Yes, freckled, for Geiszler has the lightest dusting of freckles across his round chipmunk-like cheeks that Hermann finds inexplicably charming. He wonders if Geiszler would notice him loosen his collar a bit, perhaps take off his sweater. He really is getting quite warm. "So, I was saying," Geiszler continues, and though he speaks almost directly into Hermann's ear, he sounds as if he's a mile away from him. "Waitress at bus stop—weird lights over my cabin—waitress gone from bus stop. The proof is, like, undeniable!"

"Indeed," Hermann says.

He undoes the top button of his collar. He hasn't touched his coffee yet—he wonders if Geiszler even cares. The tattoo on Geiszler’s bicep, some sort of space tentacle monster, stares back at Hermann. "I'm telling you, man," Geiszler says, "this is no joke. They're taking people, maybe even for good."

They're gonna come for you, just like they did for me. When Geiszler began spouting nonsense about aliens last year, he was not booted from the biology department right away. Mostly everyone at the college, Hermann knows, tolerated his eccentricities on account of his admittedly brilliant mind and popularity among the students. The final straw came when Geiszler's extraterrestrial delusions (for what else could they be?) reached a new level: he showed up to campus in his pajamas one morning, raving that the aliens were not only zooming about over his house, but had actually abducted him the previous evening. "You seemed to fare alright, though, didn't you?" Hermann says. "When you were—ah—taken? They even dropped you back off in time for work. Quite courteous, I should think."

"That's—" Geiszler begins to shake his leg up and down, nervous energy radiating up his body and through Hermann's. He spills some of his coffee on the carpet. "That was—that was dumb. I got lucky. I think I was one of the first ones, you know? Because the disappearances didn't really get bad until, like, a month after that? I was in bed—and, and it wasn't like how it is in movies, I wasn't sucked up in a giant beam of light or anything like that, one minute I was there and then the next I wasn't, I was somewhere...else. And—uh. I don't really remember what they looked like. I tried to—sketch them out, but it was like trying to remember a dream, all the specific details about them just faded once it was over. But, um." He rubs the back of his neck, and Hermann is surprised to see him blushing. "Well, if I'm being honest, I think I kinda freaked them out."

Hermann can't help but snort. "You what?"

"I'm serious!" Geiszler shrieks. "I freaked them out. I was just really excited about it all. Like, dude, come on, I was abducted by aliens. How fucking cool is that? I just kept asking a bunch of questions, like, are you gonna probe me? are you gonna take me back to Mars or Jupiter or, like, I don't know, fucking Gallifrey? do you even understand what I'm saying, how do you communicate? and then the next thing I knew, I was landing on my ass in the school parking lot. They must've been observing me like I was observing them, like, they maybe knew I worked there? Anyway—" He shakes his head. "I tell you what, I'm real glad I decided to not just wear boxers like usual to bed that night. That would've been really embarrassing."

Bombarded with the sudden mental image of what Geiszler usually looks like in bed, Hermann (feeling rather warm again) tugs at his collar and clears his throat. He has certainly seen more than enough for the night, and if his mind is straying to something as prosaic as what does Dr. Geiszler look like half-naked?, it likely means it’s time for bed. "Er, right. Dr. Geiszler—"

"Just call me Newt, man," Geiszler says.

"Newton," Hermann concedes. It gives him a private little thrill. No one calls Newton Newton; it’s always either Newt or Dr. Geiszler. "Newton,” he says again, “this has been a very—illuminating—evening, but it's getting rather late, and I think you ought to drive me home before—"

And then Newton begins to take off his shirt.

Yes, a small part of Hermann's brain whispers traitorously, yes, yes, yes, even as Hermann recoils and stammers out, "Newton, what—?!"

"Oh, calm down, I'm not coming onto you," Newton says. He drops his t-shirt on the floor and jabs a thumb at his chest. His bare chest. "See, look. Proof."

Hermann's not sure what he's meant to be looking at. The giant Godzilla tattooed over Newton's pectorals? The flying saucer tattooed above Newton’s belly button? Newton’s nipple piercings? Hermann thinks he understands what an overheating computer feels like, an influx of too much information with processors unequipped to handle it. "I," he says. Newton’s belly button is not pierced. Hermann’s not sure why he thought it would be.

"Look at my chest, dude!" Newton says, tapping his skin insistently.

It takes Hermann a great deal of effort to pull his eyes away from the nipple piercings. In the dead center of Newton's chest, spaced perfectly between his pectorals and right over the nostrils of Godzilla, is a strange, almost luminescent glyph of a language Hermann can't begin to recognize. It's raised from Newton's skin, more like a brand than a tattoo. And...well, when Hermann says luminescent, he really means it. The squiggle seems to glow blue. "This was on me the next morning," Newton says. "I think they marked me. Like you'd tag a lab rat?”

Hermann can't help himself: he reaches out and touches the mark. "Strange," he murmurs. Compared to the heat of Newton’s body, the glyph is quite cool. Frigid, in fact, like metal, and yet as soft as the rest of his skin.

He's close enough to Newton to hear the hitch in his breath when they make contact, and as he traces his fingertips over the glyph, he can feel Newton's heart pounding beneath them. Strange, indeed; Newton has been such a thorn in his side for so many months, and yet all Hermann wants to do now is touch even more of him. He trails his hand lower, down to the flying saucer on Newton's soft abdomen. Newton inhales sharply. "Um," he says. "Should—should I put my shirt back on?"

"Do you want to?" Hermann says.

"Not really," Newton says.

He stares at Hermann, eyebrows knit together behind his glasses, like he can't seem to make sense of him. His confusion is very much warranted; Hermann can’t seem to make sense of himself right now, either. Then, to Hermann's supreme annoyance, the pieces seem to click into place in Newton's mind, and he grins. "Oh, duh," he says. "No wonder. You wanna fuck me, don't you? That’s why you’re so obsessed with me.”

That would certainly explain the strange warm feeling that comes over Hermann sometimes when he thinks about Newton in the dead of night that he has, up until this very moment, attributed to bouts of temporary insanity and/or a latent murderous desire. Nothing so dramatic as all that, then—just regular human biology. Urgh. How disgusting. And for Newton, of all people. “Obsessed with you?” Hermann sniffs, desperate to retain some element of propriety even while he begins to tug at Newton’s button fly. “Newton, you have spent thousands of dollars on yard signs just to invite me over for a coffee.”

“Uh, yeah, and it worked,” Newton says.

He curls his fingers in the front of Hermann's sweater, thumbing over one of the buttons.

“Even when I thought you were an alien,” Newton says, “I still kiiiiinda wanted to fuck you.”

Delusional or not, Newton looks terrifically good with a beard.

"Wait," Hermann gasps some time later. "Newton, stop a moment—"

Newton pulls away from him, frowning. He pushes his glasses back up on his nose. "What is it?" he says. "Did I hurt—?"

But Hermann pats at his shoulder frantically, pointing beyond him at the back slider and the dark of the forest beyond that. Newton cranes his neck around. "Only I'm sure I saw something. Lights, or…” Hermann feels a small twinge of embarrassment. The night is dead silent, and dead still. “Well, now I'm not sure."

“You probably imagined it," Newton says. He slips back down to press a kiss at Hermann's jaw. “It’s too early to be them.”

Not even ten yet. Newton kisses behind Hermann’s ear. It feels very nice. "Yes," Hermann agrees slowly, his eyelids flickering shut. He smooths his hand up and down Newton’s back. "Yes, I suppose you're right." Newton’s stories must have left him on edge. Which is of course ridiculous, because they’re all a load of rubbish—there may be extraterrestrials somewhere out there in the great wide universe, but they’re certainly not swooping down and plucking up hapless test subjects from Earth, let alone their small town, every other day. Hermann has much more important things to concern himself with right now, like how it feels when he threads his fingers in the soft strands of Newton’s hair, or the sound Newton makes when Hermann digs his nails into his skin, or how wonderful kissing Newton is...

And, unobserved by both of them, the three lights hovering above Newton's cabin blink away as quickly as they'd come.

#newmann #maria's fanfiction tag

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soulwillower · 3 years

Text

friendly neighborhood spiderman • richie tozier

(richie tozier x reader)

requested: soooo my idea was an e2l spiderman richie x reader. they hate each other at school, but one day while patrolling he sees her with her friends outside and watched her and is like ‘shit maybe she’s not so bad’. then proceeds to be mean to her at school anyways. then a few days later he sees her crying her e yea a out and talks to her as spidey, consoles her, start liking each other. and then at school he’s a jerk and she’s like I can’t take ur shit. make up. friends. lovers. photographer reader. + ok so I was thinking maybe her parents are divorced and it’s smth abt how both parents tell her totally different stories abt the divorce. like the mom says we never loved each other, it was arranged marriage, but he abused me and cheated on me. and the dad says she was a psycho always stealing my stuff and bitching at me. we thought shE had schizophrenia. both her parents are ok to her so she gets fed up and leaves home crying. Goes to rooftop sees Spider-Man AND BOOM LOVE. self indulgencE here

warnings: enemies to lovers (my specialty), mentions of a rough divorce, a bit of violence, spiderman!au, slight blood, unedited, she/they pronouns for reader

[losers + reader are 18.]

6.4k words

♡

you're convinced it started when you missed the subway.

that was the butterfly flapping it's wings; then the chaos of the rest of the day just happened to fall in place because some sadistic twist of fate said it so, and now you're rolling your eyes at your friend in the hallway, backpack loose on your right shoulder with a budding black eye that was throbbing with the pain of a hundred suns.

you'd snuck up on your classmate in the dark room (first mistake) and then tried to scare him (second), resulting in a metal water bottle to the face. "well if you just ice it, i'm sure the swelling and the pain will go away..." your friend trails off as you sigh, nodding in agreement. "i'm so embarrassed, i'm just hoping it doesn't bruise."

"-y/n, what's up with you? wh- oh." your other friend says as they join you, eyes landing on your swollen cheek.

it was this moment that richie tozier, certified asshole, walks near with three of his friends. richie, the bane of your existence. also, the boy whose locker is four away from yours. sensing your fatal hesitance, richie grins, "y/n's still upset because someone dropped a house on their sister." he making everyone snicker. you glare at the ground.

you don't want him to see your face; any kind of ammo would be enough for richie to take and go miles with, and you're not in the mood for one of your typical screaming matches, as much as the others at this school love to watch.

"woah, y/l/n, who gave you the shiner?" he asks as he twists his fingers around his locker combination.

"why? you trying to match?" you threaten, and richie just smiles. he's laughing into his open locker as you roll your eyes, your friends peeling away eventually as you start to search through your locker.

"so," richie starts just as you thought the silence would stay until you could flee. you groan, leaning your head on the locker as he continues, "did flash finally figure out who's been saran-wrapping his car?"

you narrow your eyes, "how'd you know that was me?" you ask, certain that nobody had seen you besides three of your friends. it's doubtful they'd tell richie.

his face pales slightly and a rosy blush blossoms on his high cheekbones as he shakes his head, adam's apple bobbing as he gulps. "because, e-everyone knows." he stutters out weakly. you give him a weird look, shaking your head. "bullshit." you mutter as you brush past him, slamming your locker closed. “creep.”

richie hadn't meant to stalk them. y/n y/l/n's friend group just happened to be on the route he usually patrolled after classes, so he unintentionally ended up watching them pop in and out of the drugstore.

it was nearing a golden light around the city as richie sits on the fire escape of some building across the way - y/n's distinct figure sliding out of the store, arms wrapped inconspicuously around a bag and smile bright enough that richie can barely see the shiner still catching the light on y/n's left eye.

he briefly wonders where it's really from, and if y/n was okay. he wonders if y/n was robbed, or if he could've been there to stop it.

it's not until the three others in y/n's gang of idiots run out of the store that it clicks in richie's head - they definitely just stole those cookies, chips, the bottles of pop, the - richie tilts his head, squinting his eyes. yes, y/n definitely stole that handle of tito's.

then y/n’s lifting the sheet in their hands - it looks clear, and then it’s being wrapped around a car in the parking lot. he’s alarmed, for a moment - y/n wouldn’t do that to just anybody, he doesn’t think. but then he laughs into his mask when he recognizes the car: flash thompson’s.

he’s a nightmare, and he makes richie’s life hell just as much as flash makes y/n’s life hell and the rest of richie’s friends. so he leaves her be to saran wrap the car.

feeling relieved that when he got his powers his vision repaired itself, richie can't help but chuckle, watching y/n's hair glint in the light and the way they tilt back in laughter, the gaggle of friends traipsing away from the store and down the block. richie's lips quirk in a small grin: shit, maybe y/n's not so bad.

but despite that, richie and y/n's rivalry did nothing but steadily increase for the next week.

maybe it was because you were furious that you and your bio partner, richie's best friend stan, had gotten a b- on your lab, or maybe it was just because richie was just feeling a bit more testy than typical.

you're sure it's because when you go to your debate club's meeting, you find none other than richie tozier sitting across from your chair.

"why is he here?" you ask the teacher, and he nods to richie, "i requested he attend a meeting, try it out. richie's quite talented, you know. i figured we could bring in a new challenge for you."

“just because someone can talk a lot doesn’t mean they have anything good to say.” you snap.

you can't even look at the cocky smirk on richie's face, his feet kicked up as he lounges at the desk. "intimidated, toots?" he asks cooly, and you roll your eyes. "never."

and then ten minutes later, you’re doing a brainbreaking exercise where you’re split into groups of two and debating over a topic given to you. but you and richie were far more distracted by each other.

“you know, for someone who everyone says is the best intellectual match for me, you’re a straight up douche and i can’t wait to graduate and never see you again.”

“compatible intellect, doll, not personalities. maybe if you stop acting like such an infant and stamping your feet around, we can part ways even faster.”

you glare at him. he glares back. then nothing else happens.

the stress of the day caught up to you nearly immediately as you got home. you're holding back tears as you ignore your parents, who are screaming at each other; instead changing into sweats and a sweatshirt, brewing yourself a mug of tea, and slinking up to the roof with a blanket, prepared to mope around in the drizzle of rain. at least on the roof, nobody will see you cry.

but the universe just can't let you have anything as of lately, because as soon as you finally settle down on the roof sitting on the blanket, and nearly letting a tear escape, a figure stands up a mere twenty feet from you, and you jump a bit. apprehensively, your eyes squint, and you're shocked to discover a spiderman suit bright in the dreary lighting of the overcast afternoon.

the suit-clad person seems to be surprised by you as well, as you stand up, you're wary, unsure of how to act. of course you've heard of spiderman - he's all anyone can talk about lately, but you never expected to see him this close. what do you say?

"are you real?" you croak out.

"am i- yes, what kind of question is that?" his voice is way younger than you expected, and you're almost thrown off. he's closed the distance between you now, standing between you and the edge of the building, about four feet away.

you narrow your eyes, immediately wanting to test him. "well, i don't know, i've seen people around jackson heights just wearing costumes like spiderman-" you argue, shrugging.

the bickering is unexpected from a literal superhero, but it's strangely familiar to you. frowning, you walk closer to the masked figure, watching as spiderman takes steps backwards. he's at the edge of the building, and so without any thought, you place both of your palms across his sturdy chest and shove as hard as you can. "wait, wait what are you-" and spiderman's voice fades as he stumbles back, falling off the edge of the building with a yelp.

for a moment, your breath leaves your lungs, and your hands slap your mouth. what did you just do? you can't breathe, tears clouding your vision yet again.

but then a sticky, stringy substance slaps to the side of the building and the figure comes flying up, having catapulted himself up and back on the roof with a web. you gasp in relief, but the figure is already talking.

"-what the fuck is your deal?" are the first words from the masked boy as he walks away from the ledge. your eyes are still wide, heart thumping fast and your tears are still there, threatening to fall. "-what if i wasn't actually spiderman, i- you could've killed an innocent person, holy sh-"

you're tuning him out, though, the realization that you could have just killed someone finally pushing you over the edge. you crumble onto the blanket and let out a short, cut off sob.

"woah, woah, hey..." spider-man looks hesitant, but then comes towards you where you fall to the gravel. "-hey, what's h-what are you doing, why are you crying?" he says, voice going softer. you frown, wondering why his voice seems so deep and forced. batman did that to conceal his identity, you think before letting out a sob, shaking your head. "shouldn't you be out, like, fighting crime or whatever?"

"i'm here to make sure people are okay. you're clearly not okay." he argues, and you're too tired to try and argue with this stranger.

"my parents are getting divorced," you sniff, eyes squeezing shut as more thick tears leak down your cheek. you know you probably look destroyed right now in front of this hero, but you don't care. after silence from him, he sits down right next to you on your blanket, backs leaning against some electrical box.

"and.. i can't tell who's lying. they told me completely different things." you cut yourself off, swallowing thickly. "my mom says it was a l-loveless marriage, that he- my dad used to... hurt her. and cheat on her-" you hiccup, wiping your eyes, makeup leaking on your hands.

"my dad says she's psychotic. that she steals his stuff, that she always yells at him, and i can't-" you sigh, looking up at the clouds, watching a flock of birds fly away in the misting of the wet weather. "i feel like they see me as a pawn to play off each other. and at my school, i'm just the antagonist. people only like me because they like to see the fights i get into with this other kid."

"midtown is just like that, i'm sure none of them mean anything by it-" you look at the boy, squinting as you take in the red fabric stretching over sharp cheekbones.

"-how d'you know i go to midtown?" you sniffle. does spiderman go there, too? or teach there? how old is he, because he certainly seems too young to be a teacher?

he leans back, exhaling in an admission of guilt that flares a feeling of familiarity in you somewhere, something that's on the tip of your tongue. "lucky guess?" he states, choking it out as if he was trying to form the right words. you decide to brush it off, the feeling of being able to vent to a complete stranger suddenly making you feel better. the light mist in the air even feels good, now.

"i can't deal with it. i just don't know. why should this have to be something they vent to me about? it hurts, i don't know what to believe and i just don't know what to do. i'm lost, i just need to have someone here for me." you hug yourself slightly, "am i selfish?" you finally ask, voicing the thought that's been nagging you for months. it's silent for a moment. a car horn sounds in the distance, a dog barks, people call to each other in the street. below you, the street is dotted with tiny moving umbrellas, concealing people underneath their net of dry safety in mere splotches of yellow, black, pink from how high up you are.

spider man's nudging you in the ribs softly, then, calling you back to your own body. "listen. i know selfish, okay? i'm the definition of it, but, uh..."

"y/n." you sniffle. "-y/n. trust me, you're not selfish for wanting to be loved, to be cared for...it's, um..." he scratches the back of his head, and you briefly wonder what color his hair is. what texture, length, how he styles it.

"you deserve good things to happen, and, uh, it's not selfish for you to be overwhelmed. you're going through stuff that people our age shouldn't go through. especially not alone."

"so you are my age?" you ask, sniffling. sensing him tense next to you, you brush it off. you kind of figured as much from his...immaturity. "and you - spiderman - think you're selfish? do you know how much of a paradox that statement is?" you jest, shaking your head.

spiderman's head tilts back, and he laughs. it seems to surprise him almost as much as it surprises you, because he shakes his head, trying to stifle it quick. "you forget," he starts, his fingers tapping at the tight fabric on his thighs. "that i also have a life. i'm not just spiderman. so... yeah, maybe spiderman's not the most selfish person ever, but... i am. the real me."

"you have to care a lot about people to want to do what you do." you say, feeling better after talking to someone and hearing his reassurance. "you're not always spiderman, but... y'now, spiderman is always you. i'd say that makes you a good person." you say simply. you sigh, heart still hurting. you start with a deep breath, then a quiet, "you ever feel stuck? like..."

"like you're playing two people at once?" he finishes. you swallow, feeling oddly seen by this masked stranger. "yeah, spiderman." you say dejectedly.

and that was the start of an odd, unlikely friendship between you and the masked stranger. he'd stop by your building almost every other day, even if for a few minutes, always to check in on you, to ask how your day was. it made your chest fill with butterflies and the air fill with your laughter.

despite your new friendship, things at midtown sort of took a turn for the worse.

it was just richie, really. your black eye was gone but richie seemed to be compensating for something every time he saw you - the person who used to be a challenging enemy turned into a malicious tormentor, who would comment on every single thing you do. it was driving you mad.

you're just lucky richie doesn't know that you do all the school's photography somehow, or at least, doesn't remember, because he's gone the days that you take photos for the decathalon, the honor society, and the band. each time you asked, someone told you some lame excuse like, 'oh, tozier's at the orthodontist.'

richie doesn't have braces, though.

you can’t help but wonder why richie’s never there, why he’s always sneaking off, buying new backpacks... bruises on his eyes...

the last straw is when you and stan are just trying to finish this replacement lab to get a better grade, and richie's sitting at the end of the table with bill denbrough, the two of them playing paper football and laughing loudly like they're fourth graders.

you resist the urge to beg stan to get his moronic friends away from you, knowing that it would just insult the boy and get you nowhere.

so, with gritted teeth and a tight grip on your pen, you work in relative silence with stan while the two imbeciles chuckle at each other at the other end of the room, disturbing the quiet peace of the library.

"so, y/l/n, you goin' to prom?" richie asks out of the blue, feigning innocence. you grip your pen tighter, knowing it's a trap. don't bite, y/n. don't bite. don't bite, don't bite, don't bite- "it's a little soon to be thinking about prom." you say, trying to skirt around the issue.

"it's okay, not everyone can get a date, you can still go with friends." he says, also trying to sound nonchalant. you snort, "like you could get a date either."

bill laughs as he pulls out some homework, having finally decided to make good use of his time. "you can go together, then." bill mutters. stan huffs a laugh at that, too. "i have plans that night." you say immediately, eyes not leaving your paper as stan smirks at you in amusement.

"no, yeah, y/n. let's go together." richie says, "i can meet the ol' pops and get to see your mom again. that reminds me, i can’t stop by to see her, so give her a big old kiss from me tonight, will ya?" he asks with a wink.

"is everything a joke to you?" you ask, trying to hide your irritation by acting bored. you ignore the feelings you get from his wink.

"only funny things, doll." richie smiles, a crooked grin that, if you didn't know his personality, would make you swoon. it's suddenly no wonder to you why the people at this school always giggle and whisper and laugh with him; he's utterly gorgeous.

"it's not your fault your mom likes me more than your dad." he jokes, chuckling to himself. "shut up, i'm trying to do homework." bill says, then promptly kicks him under the table, which you're grateful for because the pain that flashes across your face momentarily is concealed from richie's gaze as he winces and ducks down for a second.

that shouldn't have hurt you because he's obviously just joking with you and doesn’t know, but since the tenseness in your house recently and the ugly divorce, things have just been extremely hard. you cannot stand his audacity; richie thinks he can say whatever he want and get excused because he's too damn pretty. you clench your fists.

"y/n, i'll give you ten dollars to slap him." stan says, barely paying attention; a pen hangs from between his lips, brows furrowed as he works on your reassignment, eyes calculating. you think, for a moment, how nice it'd be to be real friends with stan. if not for richie.

and for some reason, in that split moment, you don't think. you're pent up, angry at the world, at your teacher, at richie, at your parents, and because you can't be friends with stan because richie gets in the way of everything - and you whirl around, catching richie by surprise as you land a slap to his face that resonates throughout the whole library. a gasp sounds from somewhere behind you as the librarian startles out of her work.

suddenly, four pairs of eyes are staring at you.

you blink back, face feeling as warm as richie's red cheek looks.

the librarian didn't hesitate to send you and richie to the principal's office, resulting in a suspension for you and richie alike, the two of you not meeting eyes in the waiting room outside the administrative offices.

the subway trip and then consequential walk home was lonely, rainy, and dismal.

- - -

besides your parents and your immediate friends, the only other person you told about the suspension was spiderman, when he came to see you on the roof that afternoon. you told him about richie, how you'd decked him for hitting a sore subject with you.

"you know, he seems like a dick but... i bet he means well. i'm sure he does." is all spiderman had said, acting fidgety before leaving. despite that, it had still felt good to know you could trust him.

the next monday at school is when you see richie again, face clean and clear of any evidence of your fist.

you were walking home from school when you passed across the football field. he was with his friends on the turf, seemingly not getting on the subway yet. they're sprawled out, all seven of them, smoking cigarettes or playing a game of travel chess, one of them reading a book. there’s an empty can of coke, one of the glass bottles, filled with gross water and cigarette butts. stan sits with richie, beverly marsh laying with her head in his lap as she smokes, sunglasses red and blocking the sun.

before you get too close, before they can notice, you snap a photo of them. they just look timeless.

but then, as you put away your camera, richie sees you. you get ready for a fight; but what comes is just sheffling feet and fingers fidgeting slightly. "y/n." he starts off with as he walks up to you, all by himself.

you watch him, your own eyes flowing with guilt. "hey, richie." you say, trying to be better about controlling your attitude. "i wanted to say i'm sorry." he says, and you widen your eyes. he what?

"i sometimes don't know how to stop running my mouth, and i went too far. i usually do. and i'm sorry, i just want to start fresh." he says honestly. you swallow - something about his words, about the way he said selfish...

you shake your head, "no, i'm sorry too. i shouldn't have hit you." richie shrugs, "i deserved it, s’okay."

it's quiet.

"being friends is good." you say, shrugging. "as long as i can still tell you that i think you're acting like a three year old." "as long as i still can act like one." he counters, grinning. and then he's shaking your hand and walking away.

you feel better the rest of the day.

- - -

"you know, i'm a photographer." you whisper that same night in the dark. "you are?" the boy in the suit next to you sounds genuinely shocked. you beam, "y-yeah, i actually got a few wicked shots of you from a few weeks ago."

"are you the one that's been selling my photos to all the papers?" he asks, and you laugh, head tilting toward the sky. "no, not me." he hums, a laugh escaping that doesn't sound like his usual voice he uses around you. you've accepted that spiderman's been hiding his identity and voice from you because you may recognize him. you've also decided that he's probably from midtown - but there are over seven thousand students at midtown, so chances are still slim.

why is it that this boy, who you don't even know the name of, has captured your attention? why do you feel like kissing him all the time?

“oh, here’s a shot i took.” you say, pulling out the photo you’d just finished developing in the dark room today. “couple days ago. i just finished developing it.”

you show it to him, and you can’t tell his reaction at all. “it’s not really impressive, i just - they’re just some kids in my class, but... i don’t know, there’s something about them that i just really think should be made into art.”

he’s quiet after that, but holds on to the photo hard enough that you’re worried it may wrinkle.

“god, y/n-” he stops himself, voice cracking and nearing the closest you’ve ever heard it to being true to him. not the weird, batman garbage.

“this is cool. you should- you should show them, i bet they’d like it.”

you scoff, “no, they wouldn’t.” you take the photo back, fingers tracing richie’s face, the way his lips curl around a cigarette, the way his dark hair and eyebrows and eyelashes clash with his skin and clothes. you shake your head, “this is the boy i hit. when i got suspended. i don’t think he’d like this very much. probably call me a freak.”

you meet his eyes - or, you suppose you do - and then his hand is hovering in front of your face, debating. you don’t dare move, and then he’s combing hair behind your ear, giving you chills that run down your spine.

you clear your throat, smiling softly as he moves his hand away.

spiderman doesn’t say much after that.

it’s minutes until he speaks again. "shouldn't you be getting ready to leave?" he suddenly asks, and you sigh, beginning to pack up your things and gather your backpack. he follows you to the edge of the building and as you climb down the ladder to the fire escape, he webs himself and falls back, landing above you against the bricks when you stand up.

you're nearly eye level now as he hangs upside down, listening to you rant. "-maybe i'll just walk to mary's place. it's not that far-" you cut yourself off as you're opening your window, eyes landing on the figure in your room, who looks just as confused as you.

your eyes widen, "m-mom!" you say, alarmed as spiderman hangs next to you, just barely sealed from your mother's sight by the brick wall.

"is someone there with you, y/n?" she asks, tilting her head to get a look. you shake your head quickly, thankful that it's dark out and she can probably only see you, backlit by the lights from the alley below. she explains something about being unable to take you to your friend's house - and you nod along, willing for her to just leave. "that's okay, mom. i can take the subway." you say honestly. it's harder to drive around here, anyways.

she finally leaves, and you let out a breath, unsure as to how she'd react to know you were with spiderman on the roof. you let out a small laugh, and so does he.

"well, walking will be fine. she's just paranoid, and plus - i have you." you say, joking as you nudge his shoulder. but instead of laughing or going off the joke as he usually would, spiderman hums in agreement.

"no matter what, you'll be safe. i promise." spiderman says from where he hangs upside down from the top edge of your fire escape, face almost level with yours. that makes your heart skip a beat, his words swirling around your stomach in a warm pool of comfort.

you smile, "okay." you whisper. you believe it.

then, before you slip into your window and he slips out into the night, you turn to him. you can only hope he's looking at you, the mask always leaving it to speculation.

"can i try something? just once?" you ask, heart hammering in your chest as you step closer to him. he hesitates, and you wonder if he's biting his lips, or his cheek; if his eyes are wide or narrowed in thought. you wonder, for the thousandth time, what he looks like.

but eventually, it comes. "yes," he whispers.

gently, your fingertips find the edge of his mask down near his neck, and in the barely lit up corner of your fire escape you start to peel away his mask, revealing just his jaw, chin, and lips. goosebumps appear on his soft skin in the wake of your touch.

you feel butterflies.

his pale white skin reflects off the moonlight slightly, his jawline sharp as your fingers find their way across his skin, his mouth parting to take in a breath, lips full and red in the darkness. you wish you recognized these lips.

in fact, a voice somewhere in you screams that you wish it was richie's lips. you abolish that thought before you have time to think about it.

you can tell he's nervous, but you don't know if it's because he doesn't trust you and thinks you're going to whip off his mask, or because he knows what you're about to do. you're pulled toward him by an invisible force, the kind that wishes and hopes and needs you to be closer to him, whoever he is.

his jaw is structured and you feel it clench slightly under your hand as you cup his cheeks, barely raising on your tip toes as you near his upside-down face. you're not sure if he's breathing but, honestly, you know you aren't either. you just have to do this. so you close the gap.

his lips are plush and less chapped than you'd expected, his presence warm and protecting and exuding bashfulness yet somehow also emanating confidence. he rises almost as the tide does at your grandma's old house in the east, tilting his head as your nose brushes against the skin on the side of his jaw.

richie’s face flashes behind your closed eyes, and it makes you take in a sharp breath, realizing that yes, okay, maybe you do want to kiss richie. but you're not - you're kissing spiderman. you feel light, butterflies thrashing around.

his hand, covered by his mesh suit's fabric, falls to the nape of your neck, upside down so his thumb rests right on the soft of your throat, where your heart thumps hard and quick against him.

you swear you've never felt more like you're flying. you pull away after a few moments, your face burning even with the slight breeze. his hand stays on your neck for a split moment and then he lets it drop, returning to hold his web that keeps him suspended.

you watch with a small, shy smile as he bites his lip, containing what could only be the most beautiful smile you would ever see. you frown for a moment as you get that inkling again that you should know him.

"please, what's your name?" you finally ask again. he had to trust you, right? you've had countless opportunities to pry, to rip his mask off, to find out yourself. but you want him to trust you with it, to want to tell you.

his smile slowly fades, and yours does too. "can't you just tell me your name?" you whisper in desperate frustration.

his mouth opens, then closes as if he decided against it. carefully, one hand pulls his mask back over his lips, concealing him once again as spiderman. the boy you finally knew for a mere minute is gone, probably forever. "i can't. i wish i could."

"well, okay." you say, feeling heartbroken and frustrated. angry.

"okay." it almost gets swallowed up by the breeze as you shut your window behind you. he's gone, swinging across streets and over buildings in the distance by the time you wipe your eyes of the tears.

- - - -

you don't see spiderman the next week.

it seems as though only knowing spiderman for a little longer than a month and suddenly not seeing him took more of a toll on you than you'd expected; you watch yourself go through the motions of each day with no complaint, barely any words, the world around you boring.

wake up, get ready, drink a breakfast shake, late for class, leave school, homework, wait on the rooftop for your friend who you know will never show. dinner. back on the rooftop. go to bed.

you're about to leave school on friday when it hits you, the thing that has been missing from your regular school routine. and for some reason, not having been able to see him is just as painful as not seeing spiderman.

richie.

you don't know why you're feeling so emotional - or maybe it's just because as much as you hate each other, the fun rivalry you keep alive with him is what gets you through life at midtown. he keeps you on your toes.

so you seek him out for what may be the first time in your life, just to find him out back on the turf in his usual spot with all his friends.

"tozier." you call, halting all conversation with his group of losers as they cease their talking, staring up at you with seven pairs of owl eyes. you have no clue why you're nearly in tears. maybe, in an odd way, he's a replacement, a surrogate. for a friend that you'll never see again. and you're furious at both of them.

"where the fuck have you been?" you ask.

you watch in slight surprise as the color drains from his face, eyes widening in shock. you didn't expect him to have this reaction, in fact - you came here to pick a fight, to get the opposite of... this. richie looks as if he's been caught in the biggest lie of his life, and it's unsettling.

he seems to shake off whatever the fuck that emotion was he just had as he stutters, "what-what do you mean?"

you scowl at him, " did you just give up? that easy, huh? i thought you were better than that."

richie, for a split second, looks like he might get sick, or cry. it just makes you more confused and, for some reason, more angry. for no reason. "y/n, how did you find-"

"it's been silent in the halls, tozier. i don't know if i should be thankful or weirded out that you decided to mature overnight. you being nice to me, not being a freak... it's weird, but it's... when i said i was done with your shit and you asked to be friends, i didn't mean that i wanted you to ignore me."

he blinks his owlish eyes at you, "OH." he states loudly, pressing his fingers to his temples as he shakes his head, "christ, i thought- nevermind. you missed me that much, doll?" he tries to ease back into his teasing attitude but you can tell it's forced. and you don't know why. his friends suddenly all look relieved too, as if they know something big that you don't.

"forget it. this was so stupid." you mutter, walking past them briskly, barely even catching stan's eye. you don't cry until you get on the subway.

that night, you almost didn't go up onto the roof.

why should you? spiderman wasn't your friend anymore, he clearly got scared away when you kissed, or when you asked him who he was. it hurts, you think as you look at the dark skyline of queens, it hurts that he won't trust you with something as simple as a name.

but you're still up there, staring at the cloudless sky and thinking of the taste of those lips as a whoosh, thud and a groan jolt you from your tranquil misery.

you don't believe your eyes at first, but when the figure stumbles toward you, arm reaching to its neck, you definitely recognize him. "h-hey?" you say nervously, squinting against the dying light to try and see why spiderman's bent like that, stumbling to you, until he falls nearly at your feet.

you gasp as you get a closer look; it's hard to see with the red of his suit, but he's got a fair blood stain coming out of his neck area, a slash through the neck that leads towards the collarbone. it's not fatal, and probably won't need stitches, but it sure looks like he's in a lot of pain.

"y-your neck is bleeding." you say, eyes wide in a panic, "are-are you, do i need to get you to a hospital?" you rush, heart thumping. the boy shakes his head, though that clearly causes him pain. "my wounds- they'll regenerate quick enough. do you-do you have bandages?" he asks, and you nod aggressively, running a hand through your hair. "yes, let's go to my room." you say, trying to stay as calm as he is. with a lot of effort and sharp cries of pain, you finally make it into your room through the window on the fire escape, gently helping spiderman to your bed.

you allow yourself ten seconds in your bathroom to gather your breaths and thoughts before taking the first aid kit and rushing back to the bleeding boy, whose name is still a mystery.

your hands are shaking as you undo the box, and his hands suddenly fall against yours and squeeze. you look to him then, willing for the tears of fear to dry up and go away. "it's okay." he says, and then you feel even more rotten because spiderman is hurt in your bed and you're still making him comfort you.

"no-i know. you just surprised me, is all." you trail off, pulling your hands from his to pull out antiseptic ointment, cleaning wipes and swabs. "what- um, what happened?"

"mugging, guy had a knife. i was trying to get the purse from his hands and he slashed me. it's really not-" he coughs a bit, a fresh squeeze of blood seeping into the fabric. "-not bad. honest."

you shake your head, looking at him. "i have to take off your mask." you say solemnly. "or else it'll get bad. infected, or- heal into the mask."

he nods lightly, "i know." is all he says. his voices is laced with nerves.

your hands are still shaky when you reach to pull up the mask. he makes no attempt to move except to shift himself on your bedspread. you slowly peel the mask, eyes focused on the wound and not on the boy's face. but then, you can't help it. when the mask slips off, the boy's eyes are screwed tight.

but your breath catches in your throat when you take in his face.

it's richie.

of course it is. you press your lips together, forcing yourself to focus on his wound and not all the thoughts swirling in your mind. you don’t talk to each other, one out of anger and one out of pain, and he grips your arm, hand warm on your skin.

you can barely focus as you go to work on his wound, but you’re glad that by the time you’re almost finished, your anger has ebbed away and you’re strangely calm.

you don't meet eyes until you've got his cut cleaned out and you're satisfied it won't get infected. his eyes are nervous, anxious, scared. yours are surprisingly calm, and almost emotionless.

"hi, doll." he says, eyes no longer screwed shut, neither out of pain nor anxiety over revealing his identity.

"do your friends know?" is all you ask. he gives you a curt not as you shakily wrap the gauze around the nape of his neck, figuring a bandaid would come right off. his hand falls from your arm as you move it around his head.

"i had all them, but i wanted to see you."

his words send warm waves through your body and you bite your lip.

"why didn't you tell me? the other night?" you ask shortly, knowing that fighting won't get you anywhere.

“look, i’m sorry that i didn’t tell you, i really am. but slipping the fact that i developed spider-like superhuman abilities into an ‘are we friends or do we hate each other’ conversation is pretty fuckin' difficult.” he defends.

you nod, because, after consideration, you think you would have probably done the same. "okay. if your friends know, why didn't you..." you don't know how to phrase it.

"why didn't i go to one of them?" he sighs, sitting up as you finish clasping the gauze. he rubs his eyes and you realize you're not used to him without glasses - does he even need those anymore? his eyes are so blue, so warm. his eyelashes are long.

"i missed you. or, i - i don't know, i just... i needed to show you. to tell you. i was afraid to put you in danger but you deserve to know.” he says, honestly.

you hum, flicking a piece of rubble from his shoulder and then using that as an excuse to run your hands over the material there, feeling his muscles under your touch. "and you had to get stabbed to work up the courage?" you tease.

he beams, despite himself. and it's beautiful.

"how else could i get your attention, doll? i tried everything else."

you shake your head, huffing a bit. "can't believe you let me kiss you." you bury your face in your hands, feeling hot and embarrassed. "i'm sorry you had to do that." you squeak out, mortified.

it's quiet, and then, "i would do it again."

you look at him, from where you sit - both so close, almost touching... his breath almost hits your face. "really?" he looks at you like you've grown three heads. "yes." he deadpans, "obviously. why else could i have been spending so much time with you?"

you laugh, tilting your head back. "so you only want me for my lips?" you joke even though you're nervous. richie groans, hands tangling in his nest of windswept curls. it's charming and it makes your stomach flutter.

"y/n, don't make this so hard." he begs. unable to help yourself, you perk up, "that's what she said-" you start, but then richie kisses you for the second time.

he's nearly crashing into you, lips finding yours desperately through his own smile of disbelief - that you'd said that, or that he's kissing you? you don't care as you kiss back, hands finding purchase on his chest or in his hair.

then he's regaining his strength as your tongue finds his and he nudges you over, rolling so he lays above you. you pull him between your hips as he bites your lip gently and then moves on to kiss your neck, filling you with heat and butterflies.

"i'm sorry i didn't tell you sooner." he whispers into the shell of your ear as he bites a soft mark on your upper throat, and you sigh. "god, it-it's fine-"

but then it's too late, because your bedroom door flies open.

startled, you and richie break apart, eyes wide and lips bruised; blood staining his spiderman suit as he lays on top of you, your legs fastened around his hips and your hands tinged with his blood and sweat, both of you breathing wildly.

your mom stands in front of you, eyes wide and mouth agape in near horror - spiderman in bed with you. "hello, ma'am." richie breathes out and you resist the urge to smother yourself with a pillow.

"just... keeping your daughter safe, y'know, friendly neighborhood spiderman."

tag list: @gabiatthedisco @blisshemmings @stenbrozier @sft-core @clownsloveyou @moon-shine-baby @daughter-of-the-stars11 @trashedfortozier @oceandog13 @chl0bee @kait16xo @upamongthestarss @fiantomartell @beverlyparkerr @beauregard-s @diorbubs @leighjaenikhowell @cowbellies @deepestofwaters @melinda-hargreeves @sassy-uris @loverloserrr @hauntingkaspbrak @soph-ec @hockslutter @babytortie @decafcoffeew @etaerealboy

#richie tozier x reader #spiderman au #richie tozier smut #losers x reader #losers club x reader

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modernday-jay · 3 years

Note

i love your office au, do you have anything you wanna share?

i've been avoiding talking about this because i wanted to draw it all out and have it be revealed in parts but i think i'm a bit too lazy for that

BUT, i have always thought about the timeline for it like... if this was a show, this would happen here. like "this season would be abt that, oh the finale would be this, etc etc" y'know? so here's the vague outline i had (and yeah, it's VERY fruk-centric)

season 1

romerica/geritapan

it would start out with the beginning of alfred's time as a manager, he's just trying to figure out how to run the business and how to get everyone on board with his ideas.

lovino's current struggle is that he's got a huge crush on alfred but y'know, now that alfred's his boss it's just a weird power dynamic that he doesn't like so he's TRYING to get over it. it doesn't help that feliciano is constantly trying to talk to him about his love life and his complicated feelings over ludwig/kiku

fruk

fruk are just mean desk mates that usually bully each other OR team up to bully alfred, who used to sit with them and yao when he was just a normal salesman.

slowly it'd reveal that arthur writes smut on his computer, and that francis reads it. and the season finale would be the part where they stay back overtime and ALMOST sleep together, which i get into more detail in this post

season 2

romerica

alfred’s really upset that his coworkers (who used to like him!) refuse to listen to him, so he tries really hard to boost office morale with a raffle. unfortunately, no one puts their name into it :( that day, when everyones leaving the office, lovino notices alfred near the box being all sad and even though he’s been trying to make some distance between them, he can’t help but ask what’s wrong. alfred says smth sad like “gee maybe i’m not good enough to be a manager, huh?” and leaves, so lovino’s left staring at the box.

the next day the raffle box is FULL of names by lunch, and alfred’s like MAD excited about this. he takes a paper out and calls out “arthur? arthur you won the raffle buddy!” and arthur’s just like ??? i didn’t put my name in ??? and he’s right, he didn’t. but lovino spent his whole night writing down everyones names a couple of times and put them all in when alfred left for lunch. alfred doesn’t know this, and lovino obviously never gets credit where it’s due, but it’s worth it to see alfred at least a little more confident again.

fruk

fruk shenanigans where they're sneaking around and sorta half dating?? but they're both stubborn and don't want to admit to each other that they actually want to pursue a weird relationship. explained more in this post!

everyone kinda knows what's going on because they're really obvious, except for alfred. but alfred notices that SOMETHING'S weird because the sales from both francis and arthur have been going down lately (because they're too busy hooking up around the office, but alfred thinks it's because they must miss him, so he tries to hold an intervention for them where he tries to tell them to stop missing him so much!) + yao actually catches them in the act which makes both arthur and francis panic

season finale would be arthur going down for a smoke break with joao, but then gilbert and antonio are making fun of arthur because of the smut (as they should), arthur gets embarrassed and confronts francis about it which leads to them having a big fight. and arthur would get a chance to say the stuff in this post

season 3

fruk

this one opens with arthur at a new branch and he’s just like “i had to move for... reasons” (reasons being the fact that he can’t deal with his feelings for francis anymore so he just runs away from it)

obviously francis is pretty crushed about this but he won’t admit it. arthur probably comes back halfway through the season and they finally talk about their relationship properly, because the time away from each other made them realise how much they needed each other and all that sappy stuff

season 4

romerica

alfred needs to go to a conference and brings lovino along with him for a quirky little roadtrip. we also meet ivan here! by this time, lovino thinks he’s gotten over his feelings for alfred completely but the roadtrip reminds him of the good times they had when alfred was just a salesman. they end up kissing but alfred pulls back, obviously a little heartbroken and says “hey, we can’t... i’m your boss... but you’re still my bestfriend so can we just stay friends?” and lovino just stares at him for a sec before nodding. it’s a little awkward for them the rest of the way home.

when they’re back at the office, alfred ends up absorbing himself into his work since ivan sparked that rivalry in him and lovino’s stopped talking to him aside from normal work talk.

fruk

things are finally going good for them, they’re dating and finally have a steady relationship. their numbers are finally up because now they’re hooking up AFTER work hours, and they finally tell the entire office. alfred is the only one surprised.

season 5

romerica

so throughout all the seasons, lovino would show a big interest in art and it turns out that he’s pretty great at painting. he’d love to pursue art school or something like that, but until now he’s been too scared to try it out. his relationship with alfred is weird and he thinks that NOW is finally the time to try and do something new. working for alfred’s proving to be too hard. he doesn’t tell anyone, but he finally applies for art school and he gets in! he still works at the office though while he’s studying because y’know, he still needs the money

fruk

after a good long while of dating, one of them proposes. alfred comes in late the day they’re announcing it, so arthur has to repeat it and alfred TACKLES him in excitement because he’s THAT happy for them - like this scene

the season would end with their wedding. alfred cries when arthur doesn’t ask him to be his best man lmao

season 6

canukr

ANOTHER wedding, it’s not a season finale type deal since katya and matthew are just side characters but it’s a fun opportunity for hijinks between alfred and ivan. plus, alfred finally gets to be a best man!

fruk

just them navigating marriage. they’re scared they’re becoming boring so they try to spice things up every once in a while and their hijinks become increasingly more stupid throughout the season.

romerica

nothing much really happens between them, but they are starting to be friends again but there’s still that tension. lovino likes alfred and alfred likes lovino, but alfred also likes his job.

season 7

fruk

they eventually calm down and finally start talking about making their family bigger. they choose to adopt two baby girls at the end of the season

romerica

lovino’s finished art school and by the end of the season, he finds a new job as an art teacher. he’s reluctant to leave this job because he was afraid to mess up something he ACTUALLY enjoys, but alfred encourages him to go ahead with it because even though he’d miss seeing him everyday, this is lovino’s dream!

it’s really sad and dramatic UNTIL they both realise... alfred’s not his boss anymore, they can finally try out a relationship. the final episode ends with alfred coming to this realisation, running out to the parking lot before lovino can leave the office for the last time to kiss him!

#whoopsie #this went on longer than i expected #I JUST GOT EXCITED OKAY #sorry i've only really focused on romerica and fruk so far but yeah #have this <3 #office au!#long post #hws america #hws france #hws england #hws south italy #i'll only tag them because everyone else comes up as a passing thought lmao #fruk #romerica

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binniesthighs · 3 years

Note

i loveeee your first write abt Jisung omgggg he is like one of my BIGGEST bias wrecker of all time so i was like WOAH THERE,,,, and i was so hooked on your writings i wanna see more 👀 if you have free time can i please ask for a Jeonghan smut where he is your rival in everything let's say at school and u didn't actually like him at first but he kinda flirts and idk I'm just so into Jeonghan's cocky behavior these daysss he's making me feel thiiiiiiingsssss 😩❤️

ahh thank you anon you are so so sweet! ♡ I’m so happy that you liked my Jisung stuff! I love writing for that boy hehe and thank you so much for requesting love!! this is my first seventeen ask I’m so so excited to write more of them in the future! my brain really took this one and rannnn with it, it ended up a bit harder than I intended, I hope that’s okay and I hope that you enjoy it!

what i want most |reader x jeonghan |

Pairing: self insert, gender neutral reader x yoon jeonghan

Genre: lil bit of smut, lil bit of angst

Tags: harddom!jeonghan, bratty!reader, enemies (competitors) to lovers, college au, jeonghan being our fave cocky boy, bestfriend!seungcheol, mentions of school work, slow-ish burn, masturbation (reader), use of degrading names, dumification, hook-up, choking, marking, spanking, facefucking, gagging, use of safe symbols, nipple play, overstimulation, unprotected sex, creampie, slight exhibitionism, semi-public sex, sex in a study room

Word count: 4k

Someone told you once long ago that hate is a strong word. Apparently, they had never experienced loathing before. To you, hate always seemed to be something playful, something a little teasing. When your best friends would mock you for the most insignificant things, you would say “cut that shit out. You know that I hate you right?”

Loathing is much more fun. Loathing holds more of an edge. Loathing keeps you up at night, and lingers in your mind. Loathing digs into your skin like a papercut, coming back to sting later when you stretch your skin. Loathing made you feel all twisted up inside. This one super-massive emotion is one that clings to you and makes you jealous and irritable, and the best of all, competitive.

You don’t know what you would be without loathing...if not for him.

But as much as you loathed him, he was the perfect elixir of sugar-coated poison.

He kept you up at night. He lingered in your mind.

Everything about you, he had to do too. You didn’t know at this point if it was some kind of joke, or that the two of you had miraculously been crafted to be just that similar.

Since the day that you had met him three years ago in undergrad, there wasn’t one class that the two of you didn’t share. Every single job that you applied to, he would apply to as well. Each professor that you would introduce yourself to, the next day he would be cozied up next to them talking about some kind of bullshit and pretended to care about their personal lives. He even chose the exact same grad program as you.

When the two of you graduated, it was him who sucked in his lip, never breaking with your eyes when he received higher honors than you. He probably loathed you too.

That would keep you up at night too.

There were other things about him as well that would creep into the corners of your sleep deprived brain. You would stare into the darkness of your room, eyes glued to the ceiling with your mind exploring shameless answers.

During these dark nights, your hand would absentmindedly cascade down your body, snaking your fingers down the soft of your skin. Behind your eyes, it was him sending shivers down your body. It was his lithe fingers, not yours, that would reach down to your aching sex to pleasure you into all the fantasies that only remained within the confines of your own mind. Before you would climax, it was his name that you whispered out into the air, not even knowing that you did.

“Jeonghan.”

•·················•·················•

“Are you going to finish that, or what?”

Seungcheol rummaged around your bag of chips that were barely touched.

Your highlighter skimmed over your page, you twisted the writing utensils around in your hand to scratch down a note with your pen. Truthfully, you hadn’t heard him.

“...I mean, if you don’t, I will. Can’t let stuff like this go to waste.” He held the bag in his lap, happily crunching away and tapping his foot a little.

“--Can you chew quieter?”

“...Me?”

“Yes, you.” You bopped him softly on top of his wavy caramel hair with your marked up article.

Seungcheol cringed and rubbed the top of his head as if you had hit him with something much denser than a stack of paper.

“In my defense, there isn’t really a quiet way to eat chips.” He popped another one in. “Are you gonna be done soon? It’s too...still out here.”

“You’re the one that suggested coming here!”

His puppy-like face turned combative. “I did!...only because I think it’s pretty though.” Your friend shied away, trying to uphold his promise of “chewing quieter,” and subsequently failing.

He wasn’t wrong however, the courtyard in the middle of the library was very pretty, and you had been glad that he had suggested the two of you take lunch there. Inside the square shaped yard, a few trees had been planted with low swaying branches of little oval shaped leaves. There were hedges and a myriad of flowering plants with petals that were pink or yellow or purple. Somehow the little square was untouched by sound, save for a couple songbirds. Had you not a copious amount of work to take care of, you would have admired it all for hours.

“--And to answer your question, no, I will not be done soon. Sorry. You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to.”

Seungcheol cooly threw one of his arms over the silver outdoor chair next to him, shaking you off. “I don’t mind. I don’t have anything else that I really wanna be doing right now.”

“--Your thesis maybe?” You crashed your knee into his under the table and threw him a teasing smirk.

“I said, anything that I want to do.”

You nabbed one of your chips back. “Suit yourself then.”

The door to the courtyard clicked, followed by the creak of the old library door. Such a metallic sound stole the tranquility of the whole space.

“Y/n.”

Jeonghan came floating behind you, dressed in his usual attire: some type of glamorous pairing of dress pants and a button down as well as shoes that looked as if they had just been shined. He wore some kind of cologne that draped after him with a dizzying type of efflorescence. Everything about him was meticulously planned, down to the few purposefully unkempt strands of chocolate brown hair on his forehead.

He craned his neck a little to see your messy scribbles.

“You’re reading Nebasifu?”

Jeonghan leaned over you, tracing a finger over the neon orange highlights you had made. He shocked you with how close he had let himself get to you, practically encapsulating you in his arms. You found yourself staring into his neck, that floral scent forcibly permeating your air.

“Hmm.”

He hummed as he read over your notes. “Interesting conclusions right? The fact that in governance we create more problems when trying to solves the ones we have already made? It’s all so circular isn’t it?”

Your sweating palm crunched the paper out from under his fingertips.

“--Really interesting. I’d like to finish it...if you please.” While your words were polite, but they still bit.

“I can recommend more similar readings if you’re interested?”

“I’m fine. Thanks for the offer.”

“If it doesn’t make sense, you can always reach out, we can talk it through...I’ve found that discussing--”

“--I said that I’m fine. Nice talking to you Jeonghan.” You cast your eyes down to your paper and attempt to slow your viciously beating chest.

fucking leave. You pleaded, knuckles turning white around your pen.

“Alright then. See you later.” He straightened his glasses upon his nose bridge. “I look forward to hearing what you have to say about the topics later.”

He swept his hand lightly across your back. It was the most fleeting of gestures, but your entire body froze from it.

Jeonghan situated himself at one of the benches and drew out a book. He sat in the direct beams of the afternoon sun. The brown wisps of hair that hit the light looked nearly golden. You loathed that he was breathtaking without even really trying.

Seungcheol grinded his teeth, muttering out, “Fucking creep. He can’t talk to you like that.” Even quieter, “I’ll take him out for you if you want me to.”

You stifled a laugh. You couldn’t help your eyes which would flutter over to him like it was forbidden.

“No, don’t do that. But thank you ‘Cheol.”

“I’ll do it! I swear...”

•·················•·················•

Jeonghan had a terrible habit. Not like it was particularly distracting, it was just something that you had taken notice of. From where you would sit nearly across the room from him, he would remove his glasses, then rest one of the temple tips between his lips. Sometimes, the click of his teeth would meet the plastic. It was a simple action, but the way that the little curve would rest on the pink of his lips made your mind wonder...the poison that would leave those same lips couldn’t have been real; not when they looked so sweet.

“--anyone want to share what they got out of the readings and case studies? What can we learn about our interference and the sovereignty of other states?”

You were only partially paying attention when Jeonghan silently rose his hand.

“I think that Y/n had a particularly interesting oponion on this. We were discussing this previously.” He curved his body around to meet your eyes which had already been inspecting him.

With an expectant crossing of his arms, your professor approached your desk. “Y/n?”

Everyone’s eyes were on you, but Jeonghan’s burned with the hottest flame.

You took your shaking hands into your lap, then gave your oponion as eloquently as you could, swallowing down your nerves. As usual, you were perfectly well spoken, as you knew you were. The professor nodded along with each point of your argument.

“--Very well articulated Y/n. And your counterpoints are provoking as well.” He finally turned to pace away. “Would anyone like to expand?”

Your professor’s body mass moved, revealing Jeonghan’s nearly sinful prideful smile. It was like he had given you a test, and you had passed magnificently. With the cock of his head, he mouthed,

“that was lovely.”

“I’d like to expand.” He piped, removing his glasses. Just as he always would, he tapped them between his lips, letting the skin fall a little by them. You had noticed it before, but they were smooth and plump. “I think that Y/n is correct...in many ways, but some points are a bit misguided, I would argue....”

•·················•·················•

[09:23 pm]

cheol: you coming back anytime soon? i can’t believe you’re doing this to me on a friday. is it really that serious?

[09:26 pm]

me: need I remind you that you should probably be here with me? thesis papers don’t write themselves.

cheol: and I should remind YOU that we literally just got off break? they aren’t due for months.

i know what you’re trying to prove.

it’s not worth it.

what does that asshole have over you?

“--Shouldn’t you be back at home with that golden retriever of yours?”

Jeonghan’s pen tapped at your table, white sleeves rolled up. The day had taken it’s toll on him. The bags under his eyes proved that even someone as picturesque as him could still be effected by your long days. Nevertheless disheveled, he was just as alluring.

“And shouldn’t you be flirting with one of your students?” You clicked your phone off.

“Cute. Luckily I’m not one of the desperate ones starving for the attention of the little undergrads. That's a different kind of pathetic.”

“Hmmm. I just thought that it was the attention that you were after.” Heat rose to your ears while you breathed your beating heart down.

"Who doesn’t like attention? Especially if it’s from the right people...speaking of undergrads...”

Jeonghan’s slender neck twisted to eye the obnoxious group of students huddled up on a table, giggling and making a mess of their snacks.

“You’re studying out here? I can’t even--”

“--I appreciate the concern, but you’re not helping my focus either.”

“Am I...distracting you?” Jeonghan swept his warm brown hair to the side with the cock of his eyebrow.

You shook out a sigh. “Yes.”

“You don’t have an office?”

“Department didn’t have any more.”

“I’ve got a study room that I host study sessions in. You want to use it?”

“You’re offering to help me?”

“Listen, I know how hard our program can be, and I appreciate how hard you work. You deserve a quiet place to work.”

“Are you complimenting me?”

“Don’t make me change my mind...and what would I do if the competition suddenly dropped out?” He tapped the table with his fingertips. “That wouldn’t be very much fun.”

•·················•·················•

Jeonghan’s study room was simple, just like all the others in the library. It was stark, white, the tables were a bit banged up and the white board was riddled with little ink remnants. There were glass windows nearly everywhere so you could overlook both the outdoors and the rest of the library on the opposite wall. As the two of you entered, he calmly closed all the blinds.

“No distractions right?” He looked back to you.

“...do you have something that you need to get done too?”

“Not really. I’ve submitted a good chunk of my thesis for review.”

Of course he had.

“I’m just waiting to hear back.”

He crossed the room to sit directly next to you, slinging his legs up on the table and taking out that same book from earlier: it had some pretentious title that you had never heard of before.

“Don’t mind me.” He chided your straying eyes. “I’m only staying to lock the door after you.”

“I-I’m not...” Your eyes feel back to your computer and you typed at your keyboard just to fill the sound of the quiet room.

Sitting this close to you, you could smell that dizzyingly sweet smell of his again.

You loathed him for the way that he could be doing nothing and you could be enthralled in merely that.

Jeonghan’s eyes didn’t leave his page. “The more that you look at me, the less you’re working.”

You hadn’t even noticed.

“I guess I’m more distracting than I thought.”

Furious heat rose from the pit of your stomach to the tips of your ears.

“What the hell do you get off on?” You spat.

He calmly placed his book on the table. “What are you referring to?”

“For the past three years, you haven’t left me alone for a single second, you-you always do everything that I do like you’re on some kind of sick quest to prove that you’re better than me, better than anyone else--”

“--You think that I’m copying you?”

“Wha-what else would you be doing?”

“--Getting an education? God, you think that I’m the attention whore, aren’t you hearing yourself?? You must think that I’m obsessed with you.”

“What is it then? A superiority complex so fucking huge--”

“--You’re asking what it is that I want?”

You nodded back with heaving breaths.

“What I get off on? Well...” Jeonghan chuckled a little and raked his hands through his brown strands. “You don’t deserve to know. But there is one thing that I’ve wanted for a while that I haven’t been able to get my hands on. I suppose that’s what I want most.”

“And that is?”

Tentatively, he rose his hand nearer to you, saying nothing, his aura shifting from cocky to intrigued. At first, his fingers traced over the skin of your hand as if he was drawing little pictures into it. After he brushed his hand up your arm to weave a little strand of your hair around his fingers.

“I said you don’t deserve to know.”

You must have been in a daze; some kind of waking intoxication before your thoughts could catch up with your actions. It was almost as if you weren’t thinking anything at all, but where acting on prime instinct. Your whole body screamed with utter frustration: every word that he spoke to you make you loathe him even more, you wouldn’t ever let him get away with it.

There was something that you too wanted most, no matter how abhorrent it was.

Your thighs squeezed into his sides where you had straddled him in his chair, holding on to him so tightly it hurt your muscles. The haste on your lips on his was messy and hot, a smearing of skin and teeth crashing together with fury, tongues rolling off eachother with an undeniable hunger. His arms didn’t wrap around you but rather clawed in your hair, pulling slightly at the roots while he pulled you in impossibly close. The mixing of your gasping breaths together where whiny and yearning. As he kissed into you, his lips curled into a devilish smile.

In your arousal, you shoved your hips into his lap, grinding down into your excitement and seeking some from him. To your surprise, you could feel his hardening dick which only made you weaker. All the hundreds of little fantasies that you had held so secret started to dance in your mind; your darkest thoughts pleaded for him to destroy you, to ravage you, just as you had imagined.

Jeonghan’s lips tore from your own which he had worked until they were swollen. He mouthed down your jaw to your neck, sucking at the skin with no chance of mercy, he pulled and sucked until you could only pathetically beg for him to slow down for fear of him breaking the skin.

He stopped immediately to pull your shirt over your head and pick up his work there. The wet of his gorgeously plump lips on your skin was as perfect as you had imagined and it sent shivers echoing through all your limbs.

“Jeong-Jeonghan--”

This time you perfectly aware that it was indeed his name that would escaping off your tongue.

“You dumb slut, you thought I didn’t know that you wanted me?”

“You-you want me too?”

Jeonghan worked at the buttons on your pants.

“Wanting implies that I like you. What I want most is to make you my toy. There’s a difference.”

You mumbled out the words knowing exactly how he would take them. “I’m not a fucking toy.”

Jeonghan tsked and unbuttoned his own shirt. “You don’t get to decide that.”

You drew your fingers down his model-like toned chest, marveling in the pink lines. Jeonghan grunted in response, taking you by the underside of your thighs to throw you down on your back against the hard plastic. Once he had the chance, he ridded you of your bottoms, running his hands up your inner legs to send you reeling. For a couple seconds, you could have sworn that he had stopped to admire your body, but he wouldn’t let you tell too easily.

“That door isn’t locked.”

“What? Are you scared that someone could walk in? Scared to for someone to see you all splayed out like this?” He rose to kiss up your stomach and up to your nipples. He flicked them between his fingers. “To have someone see me making a wreck of you?”

“N-no.”

With saliva drying on your sensitive buds, they turned hard in seconds when they met the air. Jeonghan wasn’t hesitant to pull at them with his teeth slightly, making you whine for him even more.

“What should I do to you first?”

One of his hands trickled down your body to palm at your quivering sex, slick with your excitement for him and aching for the smallest of touches.

“You want it that bad? Stupid whore.”

Your hand ventured down to tease at his own dick over the fabric of his slacks.

“You want it that bad?”

“Get off.” He growled at you, then took you by the arms to jerk you off of the table and onto your knees at the floor. Under your knees, the burn of the carpet stung. His belt buckle jingled a little as he hooked a finger in to remove it. Afterword, he shook his pants off followed by his briefs, springing loose his twitching member with the tip pink. He combed his fingers through your hair while he tapped his dick against your lips.

“Fucking take it.”

You would have fought him on it, but you succumbed out of your pure curiosity over his girth.

At first, you coaxed him into your mouth, not going in too deep as you were fearful about his length. Regardless, you took him in as best as you could, hollowing out your cheeks and throat, sucking with your lips and grabbing at his legs.

Jeonghan hissed out a sigh, letting himself fall further into the warmth of your mouth. He pushed at your head slightly, bringing you in just deep enough to trigger your gag reflex.

“Mmm there you go.” He cooed.

You kept going as he liked it, gradually working up in pace while it got a bit harder and harder for you to catch your breath.

“That’s as deep as you can go? Can’t even take a dick into your throat?”

His grip on your head tightened.

Jeonghan whispered, “Squeeze my leg if you want me to stop.” before helping your head all the way down, causing you to gag even harder and for tears to well in your eyes. “That’s more like it.”

He continued guiding your head, and slobber started to form around your mouth You felt so weak and pliable around him, he was thankless aside from the tiny moans he would let escape past his lips for you.

Usable as you felt, it was still a deliciously addictive feeling.

All at once, he tore out of your mouth to bring you back up to your feet. In seconds he had turned you around to bend over the plastic tabletop, elbows digging into the cool surface. By now, you were practically dripping for him with knees and legs weak from kneeling. He kicked your legs open farther, gifting your ass a piercing slap that stung, then another followed after.

“Hungry for my cock, hmm?”

He teased your entrance without warning, sending your body crumbling over the table into a mess of whimpers and curses clenched behind your teeth. His lithe fingers were your fantasy come to life.

“I-I can’t wait any longer...” You urged him on.

Jeonghan pushed your face into the table then slid his fingers above to curl around your neck. He encircled around the skin slowly, then dug in to close your airway. You choked out desperate little sounds, then he entered you carefully, making sure that you felt every part of him.

“Hmm. Pretty...” He allowed you. Even though it was just one word of praise, you reveled in it.

His pale fingers choked you harder for a few more seconds until he properly got his pace inside of you, letting go to hold you by your waist. Once again, he clapped his hand into your skin as he fucked into you. All you could manage to do with your hands was claw helplessly at the smooth tabletop seeking some kind of balance that was nowhere to be found. He grazed the deepest and most sensitive spot within you and you felt yourself nearly reaching your climax.

“I-is that all that you can do?” You turned his confidence back against him, spurring him on just as you had wanted. He snapped his hips even faster, groaning out as he neared his release.

“My pretty little fucktoy. You’re all mine? Got it?”

Jeonghan leaned over your back to pant the words into your ear.

“Fucking say it.”

“I-I’m...” Your focus was scrambled as your orgasm pooled within.

“I’m yours...your...pretty-mm-fucktoy.”

Jeonghan came inside of you with white heat, pulsating forcefully, with you following soon after while he milked himself with your walls. Even as you still came down, he rolled his hips into you over and over until your whole body was shaking helplessly.

“That’s right.” He pulled out, then pulled your legs apart to watch his cum fall out of your hole.

Jeonghan laughed to himself, “Thank you for giving me what I wanted.”

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xingqiu-irl · 3 years

Text

i really really like chibedo aaaaaa they're so cute

i keep daydreaming about them in my genshin hs au ahahshdh

like albedo has like no friends and is quiet and childe is like. popular. and in a class they have assigned seats next to each other or smthn and childe keeps trying to talk to albedo but albedo is still quiet, but everyday chulde learns just a bit more about albedo and before he even knows it they're good friends; albedo's only other friend is sucrose and even then they're not the closest? so childe is like “woo im your second ever friend!!” and albedo is just like. yeah, sure ok.”

most of the time during their conversations childe does the speaking, but sometimes albedo will chime in with their own stuff. it's only really when the two are alone does albedo speak a lot, and most of the time it's rambling about things they're learning. childe finds it all the more intriguing, how they can ramble on and on about things they've studied and things they're learning and how childe could find it all so interesting. childe wasn't stupid, not by a long shot, but he never found science or math or anything “stem” related all that interesting. yet when albedo just went on and on about those subjects— he’d listen on so intently. and albedo would always help out childe if he needed it, always make sure he was passing his classes just fine while not being too hard on him.

they met when they were juniors, and got close. they stayed just as close around the summer too. if you saw childe, albedo was probably with him. if you saw albedo in the halls, guess who was right next to them? childe. it wasn't often you'd see them separated. and it wasn't often you'd see anything but a neutral expression on albedos face except when they were talking to childe, where a small smile always seemed to creep onto their lips. the duo didn't have arguments or fights ever— sometimes it seemed like they never even had disagreements. albedo was never one to share their opinions on anything and even when childe said his opinions it was like they always agreed.

senior year was a little different though. they both were a little busier, trying to plan out what they'd do after high school. albedo seemed to have it cut out clear, even with certain universities offering them scholarships. they knew what they wanted to do, who they wanted to be, and yet childe had barely any idea of what he wanted to do. there were so many options and he just didnt know—late one night while he was over at albedos, just sort of idly sitting on their bed while albedo quietly read something next to him, leaning into his side ever so slightly, childe let out a breathy sigh. his gaze fixated on the ground, “how did you figure out what you'd wanted to do for the rest of your life?” was all childe asked. and a few moments later he felt albedo sit up a bit more, no longer leaning into his side and leaving a bit of warmth there. his blue eyes glanced towards the other, his gaze still fixated downwards. albedo gave a light shrug, not saying a word for a few moments, “I don't know. I suppose I've only ever been good in two fields, so I went with my best one. I didn't have much of another choice really.”

ah. that didn't help much at all did it? childe didn't really have something he excelled in like albedo. he wasn't good at one particular field like albedo. he didn't have his life set out and planned for him like albedo. and in that moment, maybe he felt just a slight tinge of resentment and jealousy. albedo already knew what they wanted to do, who they wanted to be, exactly how to get there- and it was all just practically handed to them because they were always good in that subject. they were too good in every subject. childe sighed, clearing his throat afterwards. “right, that makes sense,” childe mumbled, quieter than usual. quieter than albedo's ever heard. “im sorta jealous of you, ahah. you have your life set out, planned, handed to you even. i have no clue what i want to do, im not particularly the best at anything.” childe added an awkward chuckle at the end, slightly embarrassed.

“jealous?” albedo questioned, their head turning to fully look at childe, a brief quirked. they almost seemed upset at the implication that childe of all people was jealous of them. “youre great at many things, childe. you have some traits i wish i had. you're charismatic, charming even. you can make friends, talk to people like it's nothing? I can't, childe. you don't have to be absolutely sure on your life just yet, alright? please, don't be jealous of me.” albedo narrowed their eyes, and the two were making eye contact. childe blinked, and he felt for maybe the first time in his life something he'd label as actual love.

and over the months he only felt his love grow stronger. every time albedo would place a hand on his back, every time albedo would say something reassuring, the times they'd stay up way late at night just talking about whatever came up, it made childe pin all the more harder. albedo would spare a glance while they were sitting in class. childe could feel his heart skip a beat or something, and he tried paying attention but he just couldn't stop thinking about the other. these emotions, feelings, christ they were going to be the death of him, huh?

he'd invited albedo to hangout somewhere outside of their home. usually if he wanted to hangout with albedo it'd have to be at albedo's house. but now here they were, late at night in some random park. it was dimly lit, as the only real lighting came from unevenly spaced lamp posts you'd see every once in a while in the park and the street lamps from the road. it was just bright enough for childe to make out albedos features, all of their wonderful features. he stared, stared for far longer than he should've, than he was allowed to. albedo glanced over, moving a piece of hair just slightly out of their eyes. “is something wrong?” albedo questioned, though it was quiet, their voice as soft as ever.

“no, im just... admiring you,” childe let out with a awkward laugh following it, “youre amazing, albedo, i really like you,” childe confessed with a small sigh and another awkward chuckle. he'd hoped albedo understood what he meant, that this wasn't platonic. childe already felt like his face was burning up after confessing now, and he might just die if he had to elaborate.

albedo stared at childe, their face blank and mouth slightly ajar. they tried to find the words, to find what to say. their expression morphed into a perplexed one. emotions was certainly not something they were good at childe could seem so in touch with his emotions. albedo was not. they rarely tried to express how they felt, yet childe could surely express himself so casually. albedo didnt know what to say, how to feel, surely they felt the same way but they really weren't sure they could put it into proper words. “give me some time to think.” that's what albedo said. truthfully, they knew it wasn't the thing to say, they knew they felt the exact same way childe did. but now they had to figure out how to put that into words. childe looked disappointed. albedo internally sighed. they hated seeing childe upset, and now they were the reason. great. well now albedo would have to say something, to fix the situation. “er... i didn't know what to say, sorry,” they began, “i feel the same way, i think,” they looked down. staring at the ground, face far more red than it's ever been.

they didn't know what to do. neither did childe. but for now the just remained quiet. childe broke the silence, “uh, let's figure things out tomorrow, ill walk you home.” childe offered, grinning and trying to lighten the mood up a bit. albedo glanced up, making brief eye contact and nodding. they knew tomorrow was certainly going to be something. but for now, they could just enjoy the few moments left they had tonight with childe.

ok yeah i got really carried away on what was supposed to be a short au desc but, it's ok! ehhehsbxb i just thought this was cute and ive been daydreaming abt it all day so i thought i might as well ramble on tumblr sjdbfbdb

#long post #xingqiu.txt #chibedo #tartaglia #childe #albedo #genshin impact albedo #genshin albedo #genshin impact childe #genshin childe #xingqius aus.exe #aaaaa i love them #childe x albedo #albedo x childe

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slytherinsnekxvii · 3 years

Text

hi, remember that murder snily au i'm always talking abt but never have anything to show for? yeah, i've scrapped it like six times now and i finally have a version of it i'm marginally satisfied with. so, here you go, this is the first part of maybe three or four, i think? have fun:

anger

/ˈaŋɡə/

noun

noun: anger; plural noun: angers

1. Normal anger does not split open one's ribcage and wind itself around their heart. Normal anger does not coat itself in venom and sit behind one's teeth and hide under their tongue and lie patiently in wait. Normal anger is not cold and slow and remorseless. Lily thinks that what she calls anger is normal. Lily does not realise that she is extraordinary.

Lily's brand of anger is decidedly... different. What, exactly, makes it so different isn't exactly obvious to her, but she knows that it's not like anyone else's. At least, not as far as she's aware. Hers is a cold sort of anger, an all-encompassing thing that bites and burns and hurts. It's patient, too, winding in and around her ribcage and clawing its way upwards to settle behind her teeth, waiting for a reason to show itself. It's protective, aiming to eliminate a threat before it has a chance to do further damage.

She's... aware of her anger. Not very much so, but it's seen the light of day often enough to be familiar to her. She doesn't know it, though, hasn't made herself properly acquainted with the more... unfortunate spectrum of her emotions, and that is what makes it truly dangerous.

When she feels something scratching at her insides and festering beneath a vindictive sort of justice at seeing Black and Potter and Lupin and Pettigrew suffer the displeasure of the Slytherins, she thinks it's anger. She finds herself in a dusty, unused classroom in the dungeons, helping to refine a brutal spell designed to rend the flesh of anyone unlucky enough to be on the wrong end of it and she thinks it's anger that curls around her and whispers into her ear, "Make sure it hurts."

It isn't. She calls it anger, claims it a necessity, insists that she's protecting her best friend, but she doesn't realise she's mistaken.

The story of the "Prank" gets out—doctored, of course, to keep Black out of Azkaban, and Lupin away from execution—and Lily titters into the back of her hand when she hears it told in bits and pieces throughout the corridors.

"Did you hear?"

"Who would've thought—"

"—bloody idiots went into the Forest! At night! What kind of—"

"—ll five of them, yeah. Can't figure out for the life of me how they managed to get Snape to go—"

"—must've dragged 'im kicking an' screamin', I'm telling y—"

"—Gryffindors, my left tit! Damn cowards just ran off and left Lupin and Snape to deal with—"

"—no clue what happened, but have you seen the scars?"

"—out of the Hospital Wing, already? How—"

"—down fifty points! All because that lot wanted to play jokes aga—"

She smiles, a tiny, smug thing that she doesn't notice, and moves on. The Slytherins are properly riled up now, Rosier and Mulciber and Wilkes and Avery hovering around her and Severus with expressions she can't describe as anything but sadistic. At some point, she realises that their presence makes her feel much less uncomfortable than it did a week ago. She doesn't dwell on it, ignoring the small part of her that worries and shivers in favour of leaning over Severus's shoulder to read about the sort of magic that appears in nightmares.

She grips her wand, idly twirling the twelve-and-a-half inches of willow and dragon heartstring as she skims over detailings of ancient, arcane magic. It's always about blood, she thinks, staring a diagram of a pricked finger dripping red into a cauldron. Potion for Transferring Magic from One Wizard to Another, the heading proclaims. She shakes her head, accidentally knocking into Severus's in the process. "Ow."

He winces a little, and then tells her, "I'm turning the page."

She hums, eyes glued to a book she wouldn't dare look at not even a week ago, and says, "Okay."

It's fascinating, Lily has to admit. Gruesome in some cases and horrific in others, yes, but there's something... mesmerising about it, something hideously captivating in the way that the diagrams seem to eagerly demonstrate their attached spells. On the page, a young wizard is neatly flayed alive, the entire process precise. Her stomach rolls, but Lily can't seem to tear her gaze away for even a second. She doesn't think about it.

She doesn't think about a lot of things, actually, staunchly refusing to acknowledge the way she finds herself drawn away from her Housemates and friends, instead choosing to orbit around her best friend and the seemingly endless rotation of Dark Arts tomes he's somehow gotten his hands on.

Mary's sick of her excuses, she knows, responding to every one with a nod and an, "Oh, alright, then," in that tone that lands somewhere in the middle of disappointment, exasperation and concern.

Marlene has given up entirely, the whole of their interactions reduced to simple greetings in the hall and nods when they pass each other between classes.

Dorcas is nice about it, still catching her arm on the way to breakfast, still offering to study with her when they're all together in the Common and she doesn't want anyone to feel left out. It's undeniable, though, that her smile isn't near as warm as it used to be and it's tinged with worry at the corners.

No one makes it a secret of what they think about her recent activities. And as for the company she's keeping? Well, they'd always been particularly vocal about that.

Things must come to a head eventually, and they do, not even ten minutes after Professor Sprout has dismissed them from the classroom on Wednesday afternoon. She hears the whispers first, half of them from students she doesn't even know, has never said a word to.

"—conspiring with snakes—"

"—think it's the first time I've heard of a Gryff going Dark—"

"—ck was right about her, she's got no—"

Something ugly twists in her chest, and she forces her feet to turn and move, one step after the other. She can make it to the Common Room reasonably quickly, she thinks, and then she catches the self-proclaimed Marauders outside the Great Hall. Or rather, they catch her.

"You can do better than a bunch of slimy snakes, Evans," Potter crows, and she stops dead in her tracks. "Why bother with them when you've got a fine piece of Gryffindor right here?"

"Get lost," she says, the words ground flat between grit teeth.

Potter does not get lost. "Come on, Evans," he continues. "You're not acting like a proper Gryffindor. Where's your House loyalty? I can guarantee that chivalry and bravery are much better than whatever they're offering." It sounds... like a taunt, and this is when Lily realises that what she's been feeling isn't anger.

"Chivalry? Bravery? What would you know about any of that? It's not very chivalrous to corner students four-to-one, now, is it?" She hisses her words, each one more scathing than the last, and as she spits them out, every last one dripping venom, she realises that she wants it to hurt. "And it certainly doesn't seem brave to leave behind someone who needs help because you got cold feet! I'm not a proper Gryffindor? No, I think you've got it wrong, James. If you want to see an improper Gryffindor, the whole lot of you can go right ahead and look in a bloody mirror! I will not be talked down to by the likes of spiteful little cowards like you! I'm more Gryffindor than all four of you put together, but if you're what our House is supposed to look like, then I want nothing to do with it!"

Her ears are ringing when she's done, the whole world narrowed down to one singular focal point, the group of boys headed by the one who'd been desperate to get her attention and regrets it now that he has it. She looks at each of them in turn, summoning a contempt she didn't know she possessed until now. "Save your breath," she snaps, when Black's jaw unlocks, and she turns around and walks away.

Something slots into the place at the back of her mind, and she thinks, oh, her fingers itching to wrap themselves around her wand and whisper the words that will turn them inside out, call the blood from their pores and make it sing. Something clicks, when she thinks about she felt just then, and she can tell the difference quite clearly, very easily, between pure, white-hot, blinding rage and what she's been calling anger. She doesn't know what it really is, and she doesn't want to. She doesn't think about it, either, simply pushes the entire realisation to the back of her head and thinks, oh.

It changes... very little. Something inside of her has changed, and she finds herself growing steadily more unbothered by the voice in her that tells her about old, forbidden magicks of the body and the mind and the blood. It's always about blood.

She doesn't bother reading over Severus's shoulder anymore, the two of them scribbling notes as the pages flip on their own once they've both finished reading.

What does change things is when Rosier corners her after Defence one day, a sealed envelope held in his hand.

"What's this?" Lily asks, eyeing the pristine letter suspiciously. She might get along with the Slytherins much better now—especially after the incident with the Marauders that Rosier had found particularly amusing—but she can't say she truly trusts them.

"An invitation," he says, and before she can speak, he continues. "Every rule has its exceptions. We'd thought there was only room for one Mudblood prodigy, but it looks like there's space for two."

"Don't call me that," she bites, and he waves the envelope at her.

"Think about it. As it stands now, men like Potter and Dumbledore are holding too many of the cards. Men who would let people die and then cover it up to save their own hides. Don't you want to see them get what's coming to them?"

"There's no difference between you and them," she says.

"Isn't there? We've never claimed to be good."

She stares at him, silent.

"It's a new age, Evans. Don't you want to change the world?" he asks.

She takes the envelope.

anyways, i hope you enjoyed that! thanks for reading :)

#fic #murder snily au #severus snape #lily evans #harry potter fanfiction #darkfic #i mean not yet but it will be #anyways #that took wayyy too long #it took me so long to get to this point it's not even funny anymore #but i'm glad i did #getting my shit together seems likw a pretty solid birthday present to myself i think #snily #anyways bye for now #also i have the same birthday as draco malfoy and i found that put via tiktok #gotta love it

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perhapsthanatos · 3 years

Text

10:32 pm with yuta ♡

nct’s yuta x fem!reader (got inspired by a dream of mine & found the idea really cute)

alternate title: be the james dean to my audrey hepburn

genre: fluff. a pinch of angst. non idol au. badboy!yuta au.

word count: 1400~

playlist: chinatown by wild nothing, lover’s rock by tv girl & work this time by king gizzard and the lizard wizard.

warnings: featuring johnny (not a warning though). smoking cigarettes. cursing. lowercase intended. not proofread.

a/n: hi i was supposed to post a vampire!haechan fic but i really wasnt happy w it in general :( the plot or overall idea of the fic was really good, but i just felt as if i didnt do it justice so here we are :( but ngl, i kind of like this concept more? maybe bc i can see it more vividly? idk, i feel like my writings r getting repetitive & its getting on my nerves lmaoo this is getting long im sorry do u guys even read this part anyway? i would also like to apologize abt the amount of projecting im doing lmao ive been having some rough days & i love my sister but hate being compared to her so often so this is a way for me to rant abt it ig? also so sorry its coming out a little later bc i woke up late today (& procrastinated for the rest of it so here i am posting really late at night) & decided to go to the convenience store to get ice cream (& a ton of other bad shit pls dont do this its rlly unhealthy) for breakfast bc i can :) any who, enjoy lovelies <3

“oh my, y/n! you’ve grown up so well! just like your sister!”

“oh! i’m sorry i’ve almost mistaken you for your sister! y/n is your name, correct?”

“y/n, darling, you are looking so dashing! you really do resemble your sister, don’t you?”

“ah, you must be y/n! i’ve heard all about you and your sister from your father!”

you swear that your reddening cheeks are threatening to fall off any moment now from all the fake smiling. the hundreds of superficial compliments, the insincere flattery and the need for these people to constantly compare you to your godforsaken sister makes you feel even weaker than you are. it gets harder and harder to keep up with a big persona that isn’t at all you. as lucky as you are to live such a lavish lifestyle, you can’t help but hate how your family has to be so perfect. you hate how you have never fit in with them, even if you are so good at faking it. you hate how you have always been stuck in your sister’s shadow, constantly haunted with the reminder that you yourself aren’t good enough. you hate how you now have to entertain the rich and brainless guests at your parent’s gala because she’s gone for some stupid prodigy competition and everyone is only talking about her in front of your face. so what if she’s better the better sister? you still have the right to earn respect, right?

you’re exhausted from all the small talk. your facade gets more brittle by the second under all the pressure. your body feels as if it's gonna give out due to your brain shutting down after all that interacting. you try to keep on going with the night as it unravels itself by being the perfectly poised poster child, trying to make your parents proud. but alive yet almost completely devoid, you decide enough was enough. what if you left right now? no one would notice, would they?

after pulling up your phone discreetly to send a few text messages, you pass through lots of people dressed in gold and finery in a way that wouldn’t have you noticed right away. keep your head down and don’t you dare make eye contact with anyone. nearing the end of the room, grabbing the first glass of whatever alcohol you see and downing it in one gulp, you start walking away as quickly as possible from the ballroom. “ignorant privileged fucks,” you angrily whisper to no one in particular, setting the now empty glass on whatever surface and begin to head to the main exit where no one could spot you running away.

“and what do you think you’re doing here, miss?”

a voice interrupts you, looking up you see that it is your father’s head butler; johnny. he is dressed in a simple black suit that makes him appear taller than he is. his long brown hair is slicked back and his bowtie seems brand new. you have known the man since he started working in your household less than ten years back. you were a reckless child, often trying to find ways to sneak out, finding a way to escape from this life and he sympathized with you. after all, he could barely imagine living your life, never catching a break for yourself and always pretending to be someone you weren’t. he often helped planning when you would sneak out into the night, scheduling things like what time you should leave and what time you should be back, more specifically a time when no one would notice. he would take care of your form of transportation and have your location on at all times, just to be extra safe. as much as he wants you to have fun and have a bit of freedom, he still worries that something might happen to you. because of all this, you two have grown to have a very strong bond. you could confidently say that he is most definitely a parental figure in your life since your parents (and even your sister) are often overseas for work.

“what do you think i’m doing? you think i wanna be in a room with those half-baked bipeds? fuck no!”

“i know, i was just joking. you looked like you were about to explode in there, i wish i could help.” he laughs, pulling out his phone preparing what you might need. “so what will it be for today? the driver? we just need to pay him to keep his mouth shut. a taxi? it’s cheaper than paying the driver, but you still need to pay… not like that’s a problem for you though. maybe an uber would be good enough—“

“actually, i got myself covered. thanks.”

his jaw slightly drops and his eyebrows furrow. he looks straight at you in shock. “what do you mean you got yourself covered?”

you look down at your feet, a nervous habit. “i got myself a ride, you don’t need to help me. i’ll be back as soon as dawn comes.”

he raises his eyebrow. “who’s your ride?”

“doesn’t matter,” you glance down at your phone seeing a notification and wave a goodbye, leaving rather suddenly. “i gotta go, i’ll text you when you need to open the gates!”

“y/n! wait! who’s your ride— and she’s gone.” johnny sighs, watching as you run towards the front gates, tossing your stiletto heels away on the grass while you’re at it. he heads back inside, silently hoping you’ll be fine.

knocking the window of the old black mustang parked outside behind the big bushes, the driver rolls down his window and sends the most charming smile.

yuta in his black beanie, long blonde hair, worn out doc martens, signature leather jacket and black skinny jeans. it almost makes you laugh on how he wears the same thing almost everyday but still manages to look so good.

he is most notable for having a big bad boy reputation and you knew that he was the breath of fresh air you needed in your life. a person who can understand having the pressure of having to be or to fulfill your persona. a person you can completely be yourself around. a person who is full of warmth no matter how cold he may seem on the outside.

“get in, princess.”

and that was all you needed. you tiredly walked to the other door and sat yourself in the car. rolling his window back up, he looks at you. you are wearing a simple yet stunning black dress along with silver jewelry adorned on your neck and wrists. your makeup is perfectly done but still struggles to hide the fog in your eyes. he has the sudden urge to clear them away. he softens at the sight of you. no one is perfect, but he finds you being perfect enough without ever having to dress up.

“where to?” he asks as gently as he could. he knows that you are most vulnerable during these moments and that it is hard to finally break down your walls after a day full of stress, so he doesn’t pry immediately. all he wants to do is to keep you here, safe and away from your burdens and for you to stay comfortable with him, even if it couldn't be for long. but is that too selfish of him to ask? he hates how you hate your life and it is taking every bone in his body to not run away with you. but who is he to tell you what to do or what to change anyway? all he can do for now is try to find a way to make you genuinely smile.

“take me anywhere,” you whisper to the latter. “i just want to be as far from myself and my life as possible. miles away or the nearest convenience store, just take the long way home before dawn.”

you look down at the cup holders, spotting an open cigarette box. you tug one out of the nineteen and light it with the lighter you kept in your pocket. you lean back and close your eyes. he only admires as you bring the cigarette to your lips, exhaling a cloud of smoke afterwards. letting the radio play quietly, he starts the car and begins to drive away from the mansion. he can’t help but wonder how you (an elegant daughter) and him (a bad boy) are millions of worlds apart, but more similar than you think.

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dancingazaleas · 3 years

Text

jeankasa | guidance

yeah i gave them a header what abt it⁉️

this ship is gonna be coming up a lot on this page because i have immense love for this pair

also, i would just like to make it clear that i do know eremika is canon. i don’t ship it personally. pls don’t attack me

warnings/notes: modern au!, blind!mikasa, cursing, mentions of bullying, mentions of insecurity, hints of depression, shit ending

if someone had ever told mikasa that she’d lose her sight at the age of 19, she would’ve brushed it off.

but now here she was at 19, service dog attached to her hip as she navigated through the streets. her clumber spaniel dog, who she named vanilla, turned her to the left, trying to lead mikasa to the her favorite coffee shop. when she felt a small wave of air and heard the sound of vanilla’s nails clinking on metal, she knew that she was at her desired location.

with caution, she walks inside the shop and turns her head to the side to figure out where she was from muscle memory. before she could contemplate, vanilla lead her through the webs of the tables and to the counter to order. she put out her left hand, trying to feel for the edge of the counter so she could hear the cashier.

she felt at ease when she felt the cold metal on her fingertips, inching her feet forward to let them bump into the counter as well.

“hello,” mikasa said to the cashier, praying that there was one actually there, “i’m blind, so i apologize if i seem to be difficult.”

“it’s alright!” the cheery cashier said back, “let me know if you need help with the menu.”

mikasa thanks her and orders herself a vanilla bean frappe, even though she thinks it’s basic; she quite enjoys it. vanilla leads mikasa to a table and she cautiously sits down in her seat in fear of that there might not actually be one there.

“oh, did you need something,” she heard a baritone voice ask her when she plopped her butt in the seat.

“oh! i didn’t know there was anyone sitting here. i’m blind and vanilla led me to this seat,” she explains, getting ready to get up to find another seat.

“y-you don’t have to leave..!” he suddenly shouts, startling mikasa, “i mean... you don’t have to leave, you can sit here. i’m jean kirstein.”

mikasa’s face heats up as she sits back down, “i’m mikasa ackerman.”

“i’m going to grab your hand to shake it, is that alright,” jean asks and he smiles at mikasa’s nod.

when jean touches mikasa, she feels a jolt of electricity run down her spine that makes her shiver.

his skin is rough against his own and her hand is small in comparison. her hand is encased in warmth while his is encased in cold.

jean’s face was a cherry red as he stares at mikasa. she’s honestly gorgeous, black lipstick on her plump lips with a small blush running across her cheeks. her hair ebony and was a tiny mullet, bangs spread across her forehead.

her hand accidentally came into contact with his sketch paper, and she quickly yanks her hand back towards her in fear.

“i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to touch that.”

“don’t worry, it’s just my sketch pad. i’m an art student at trost university,” he waved his hand, despite her lack of sight.

“my brother and our friend go to trost. our friend, armin, is a marine biologist students. he’s really sweet. my brother’s name is eren, he’s studying criminology,” mikasa gives a sad smile and jean knows it’s because she wants to go to trost too.

“oh i know them. i don’t... exactly get along with your brother a lot,” it manages to make mikasa crack a real smile.

“i’m not exactly surprised, he’s a very brash person,” he watches her hands lean down to pet vanilla.

before he’s able to get a word in, her name is being called for her to get her drink. her eyebrows furrow from frustration, she doesn’t know where to go.

“i’ll get it for you,” jean’s already getting out of his chair, walking over to the counter with her drink on it.

she thanks him when he guides her hand to hold it.

“so,” jean doesn’t know what to say, “shouldn’t you be getting back to... your house?”

“i should, but i don’t want to. i don’t get to go out alone much,” he nods at her.

“i’m sorry if this is rude, but were you always... blind,” jean asks slowly, gesturing his large hands in a circle.

“no, i haven’t. i started losing my vision around my 13th birthday. it was gradual and by the time i was 16 i could barely see anything, now i can’t see at all,” mikasa seems sad as she explains her situation, dejectedly sipping out of her straw.

“i’m so sorry, i couldn’t imagine going through that. you’re strong for enduring that,” jean puts his hand on top of her’s, flinching at mikasa’s flinching.

“i don’t feel strong,” she frowns, “i’m always being coddled and i can only talk about it with armin and vanilla, even if she’s a dog. you barely even know me and i’m dumping my baggage onto you.”

jean’s face flushes at the realization, “no, no, no! don’t worry, i-i asked! if anything, i should apologize for asking so much.”

mikasa shakes her head, earrings clinking as they dangle down.

“it’s alright, i haven’t gotten to talk to many people like this is a while. what’s your number,” she’s taking out a phone with a light purple phone case.

he doesn’t know how she uses it, but he’s not going to ask. he takes and when his thumb presses against the contact app, he jumps at the robotic female voice telling him ‘contacts’. guess he got his question answered.

he types in his number, trying to get used to the robot calling out each letter and number as he types.

he never thought he could learn so much in such little time.

————

jean never thought that him and mikasa would become friends. if he were being honest, he thought that mikasa wouldn’t text him after he gave her his number. he’s not that interesting in his opinion.

but luckily, she did. and now, a couple of months later, he’s guiding her hands to paint on a canvas in front of her. she’s anxious and hesitant as jean helps her swipe the paintbrush across the canvas.

“relax your body, i’ve got you. the picture will look weird if you’re too stiff,” he rubs his thumbs in circles over her wrists.

she takes a deep breath and jean can feel most of the tension leaving her body. he guides her hand to paint a large stripe in the color of a peach, hands warm against her cold skin.

“paint what feels right, let your body move on its own,” his hands slowly leave her wrists, and he watches as she runs the brush across the canvas with relaxation.

back and forth her brush runs, lips parted in slight relaxation and concentration. her face has splotches of lavender and bubblegum pink on it, and her hands are covered in a maya blue mixed with the purples and pinks.

jean can’t help but feel himself swoon at the sight, milky grey eyes darting around the canvas aimlessly and her reluctant free hand feeling for the edge of the canvas to let her know how far away she is. she’s in a loose white button up where the sleeve are cut at her elbows. her vancouver blue skirt ends at her scraped knees and her feet are bare, making her toes curl around the stretcher of the stool she’s sitting in.

“i think i’m finished,” she says as her fingers loosely hold the paintbrush in her hand.

jean looks at the painting and he feels a sense of pride in his gut at the sight. despite how much he guided her hands, she still managed to create a masterpiece all on her own.

the painting is messy, but jean loves it nonetheless. the painting is of a mix of pink peonies arranged in a vase with hydrangeas and himilayan blue poppies, peach ranunculus flowers with their petals spread in blossoming. there’s a dash and a mix of different colors in each flower that makes it feel completed and some of the colors dash out of the lines of the flowers and mixed into the honey brown background.

it’s messy and choppy, and if mikasa were an art student, she’d get a 68% on this painting. but in jean’s eyes, she’s scored a 100%.

“it’s beautiful,” he smiles, taking the paintbrush out of her hands and onto the cart of paint supplies next to the easel.

he grabs a thin brush and dips it into a black, signing it as ‘m.a.’ in the right hand corner.

“i doubt it,” she shrugs, “when will i be able to hang it up?”

“probably in a few days. i’ll text you when and i’ll come over and hang it up,” he helps her off of the stool.

“thanks,” she nods hand now reaching up to search for his own.

he puts his palm against her’s, taking note of how much smaller her dainty, yet tough, hands were against his own. their fingers intertwine perfectly and their temperatures contrast each other’s.

mikasa’s got a small blush as she stares at jean’s chest. jean lets go of her hand, moving it to her cheek along with his free hand and tilts her head up to look at his own.

jean leans down a bit and their lips connect in a sweet kiss. mikasa’s lips are soft and wet against jean’s. they shiver at the other’s contrasting temperature, but deepen the kiss anyways. jean pulls away and watches mikasa’s eyes flutter open and her face get even more red.

it has him kissing her again.

————

mikasa’s giving small chuckles and smiles as jean walks behind her and holds her hands up above her head in his own, guiding her bare feet through the runny sand. vanilla is running circles around the two of them, barking and partly happily.

jean’s making arrogant comments, which is why mikasa’s smiling, as he leads her over back to their group of friends sitting in a sandy fire pit. mikasa’s smile fades when jean sits her down on a bench in front of the fire, the sound of voices flooding her sensitive ears.

it’s mostly sasha and connie, cackling at one another obnoxiously. jean sits on mikasa’s left and eren is at her right.

“we can roast marshmallows now that the lovebirds are back,” connie snickers and it has everyone but eren, mikasa, and jean laughing.

eren’s pretending to gag as he bumps his shoulder into mikasa’s to look over at jean above her head. mikasa doesn’t need sight to know that there’s a sneer on jean’s blushing face when he also pushes his shoulder to her’s.

“stop it,” she says, “i need help with my marshmallow.”

“even blind, mikasa still scares you,” armin laughs to eren, taking a metal stick and a marshmallow from sasha’s outreached hands.

“it’s not like i’m the only one scared of her. jean’s quaking in his boots!”

jean ignores and stabs a marshmallow onto his own metal stick, guiding mikasa’s hand to grip around the wooden handle at the end. he positions her arms to hold the marshmallow over the crackling flames of the fire, and then starts to put his own marshmallow on a stick.

the conversation continues on without comments of both jean and mikasa, now focused on teasing eren. when mikasa’s marshmallow is finished, jean puts the handle of his metal stick between his knees. he’s taking ahold of graham crackers and hershey’s chocolate after he pulls mikasa’s stick away from the fire. he holds her stick at the handle and guides her with his voice to arrange herself a s’more.

“now close it carefully around the marshmallow,” he says and she obliges with caution.

he puts the metal rod on the bench beside his thigh, kissing her cheek as she bites on the s’more.

“it’s messy, be careful,” he’s holding his marshmallow back out over the flames.

she turns her head towards him, giving a small pucker of her messy lips. he kisses her lips, the sticky residue of the marshmallow sticking to his own. he laughs when he pulls away and licks his lips, enjoying the gooey treat.

he’s putting together his own s’more now, occasionally looking towards mikasa, who’s listening to sasha and eren’s conversation with rapt attention. she’s got chocolate, crumbs, and melted marshmallow spread across her mouth.

“babe, let me wipe your face off,” he’s grabbing a paper plate and sitting the s’more on it, then place the plate on the bench.

her eyes look downwards as jean wipes off her messy face with the sleeve of his shirt; something he doesn’t usually do.

“thank you,” she turns her head away, hand patting his thigh in search for his hand.

with his left hand, he holds his s’more. he gives his right to mikasa, who leads it to put his arm around her shoulders. he smiles and tugs her closer to him, kissing the crown of her head before he eats his s’more.

he groans when the flavors hit his tongue, going in to take another bite but stops at mikasa’s head turning to him.

“can i have a bite,” she asks innocently, like she didn’t just have one of her own.

“you just ate one,” he furrows an eyebrow.

instead of a reply, she opens her mouth in hopes for jean to put the s’more against her lips. he rolls his eyes while shaking his head, putting a corner of the s’more against her pretty pink lips. she bites down and he revels at the sight of her small smile.

“thank you.”

“whatever, you would’ve kept bugging me if i hadn’t,” jean snickers, pecking continuously at the crown of her head.

“true,” she smirks and nuzzles her head against his lips.

he shoves the rest of the s’more in his mouth, mikasa only knows because the everyone laughs at the sight. when he’s done chewing, he leans close to her ear to whisper to her.

“i’m gonna go to the car real quick and get a blanket. even with the fire it’s starting to get colder, and you’re wearing a sundress.”

mikasa gives a silent nod, and feels her mood dampen whenever he gets up and leaves.

“can i talk to you,” she lifts her head a bit while she processes the voice.

“yeah, what’s up marco,” he sits next to her.

“nothing’s up. i just wanted to thank you, i guess,” he gives a breathy laugh.

“what for? i didn’t do anything.”

marco put a hand on her shoulder while he smiles, ignoring the fact that she cannot see.

“mikasa,” he starts, “jean’s a lot happier because of you.”

“oh,” she blinks, “i didn’t do anything. if anything, it’s the opposite. he helped me accept and love myself even though i was blind. he guided me.”

marco laughs, “mikasa, while he may have guided you and your hands, you guided him into becoming a better person. he was so lonely and sad before you. he would have one night stands a lot of the time just so he wouldn’t have to sleep alone. his sketchbooks used to be so gloomy and bitter before you and now his sketchbook radiates life. there are so many sketches of you and the people around him, and he hadn’t done that since sophomore year of high school. he paints with light colors instead of the gloomy grey’s and blue’s he used to paint with. he’s so comfortable and content with you, and i’ve never seen him act that way with another person besides myself. he loves you, mikasa.”

mikasa feels herself crying at the speech. ever since mikasa was little, she always felt out of place, even with eren and armin. they were so vibrant and passionate to the point where mikasa could barely comprehend it. mikasa felt she had never made an impact of anyone, not even eren.

in high school, kids would whisper about her in the hall. she always acted unbothered but late at night she would cry silently under her blanket. mikasa never thought of herself as special, even if she was blind. mikasa often felt ashamed of herself for so many reasons; her lack of passion, lack of speech, lack of emotion, and her blindness. she often felt suffocated by the coddling and unsaid expectations eren’s dad left on her shoulders.

when she met jean, it was a breath of fresh air. someone treated her normally and would make her feel free. she felt like she fit in with jean, that he didn’t think she was weird for flaws. she asked him about it once, and he replied that when he said he loves her, he meant her flaws as well. jean made her feel special yet normal at the same time. he never let her lack of sight become a hinderance, instead guiding her with his hands and his voice.

to find out she impacted the person who changed her whole world made her emotional and happy beyond belief. she was also bewildered at the discovery because not once had she impacted someone to her knowledge.

“oh my god! i’m so sorry, i-i didn’t mean to make yoy cry!!!” marco’s freaking out and mikasa doesn’t need sight to know that all eyes are on her.

“mikasa?! what’s wrong?!” eren’s booming voice fills her ears.

“just happy,” she sobs and rubs away her tears.

“hey babe, i got a thin blanket so it might not warm you up too mu— what happened?!!” mikasa hear’s jean’s voice getting closer.

“i’m okay,” she sniffles, but jean ignores her and pulls her onto her feet. it has vanilla following behind.

jean leads her further from the group, stuttering out apologies as if he had done anything wrong. when he stops, he turns around and cups mikasa’s damp cheeks and kisses her nose.

“what’s wrong? what happened? are you okay,” he worries, voice cracking.

“i just,” her own sob cuts her off, “marco told me that i guided you into changing a-and i’ve just never had a-an impact on anyone.”

jean relaxes with a sigh, kissing her softly on the lips.

“he’s not wrong, you’ve impacted me in a way i can’t explain. i’m also sure that you’ve impacted so many people, you just don’t know it. you are so special,” he smile fondly, wiping away her tears.

“you make me feel special,” she laughs through her tears, “and i’ve never felt that, and you know that.”

he hums while he nods.

“cause, again, you are special. my special girl,” he murmurs to her right before he kisses her.

“you’re special because you guided me in the right direction of happiness,” he mumbles against her lips.

“ditto,” mikasa gives a small smile, “thank you for guiding me.”

#attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #aot fanfiction #snk #jean kirstein #jeankasa #jean x mikasa #snk mikasa #attack on titan mikasa #mikasa ackerman

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honey-subs · 4 years

Note

im the person that said abt the emperor au yoongs 😳 so like idk im not a writer but what if like y/n was like a badass trained fighter and yoons then saw how y/n had a lot of strength and wanted her to be his empress or sum shit like that, and yunki goes to tell his bodyguards (???) to bring y/n to his palace. and then yunki realised that he saw y/n was like a rlly cool ass bitch and he just feels small n subby once he sees her JSJJD this is a mess lmao, and also you dont have to answer this!

Emperor - Min Yoongi

*they included a part two* (2) more emperor yoon idea cuz im a hoe ✋🏻✋🏻 so like he sees y/n and then decided to give himself to him and brings y/n too his ahem bedroom and then yknow yknow ;)) NDJDJDN im crying laughing im so bad at explaining.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

⤷pairing - yoongi x reader

⤷genre - smut, fluff

⤷summary - min yoongi needed an empress but none of the ones he met suited his interests, until he met you.

⤷warnings - kingdom!au, slight slow burn, fluff, angst, slight somno, hanjobs, teasing, dirty talk, mentions of wet dreams, this is like 90% plot, and 10% smut. enjoy though.

⤷also, this is probably the LONGEST thing i’ve ever written on here, and idk how much i like it. it’s awkward in some spots but enjoy.

⤷i changed it a bit, hope this is okay!

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

(this yoongi but with short black hair)

yoongi always hated being emperor. since he was a child and learned that he would soon take over the kingdom, he resented it. he had no interest in it, but after his father died, he had no choice but to become emperor, and he hated every second of it.

today was like all the other days through the first week in the month. yoongi was forced to sit in his throne, watching a line of hundreds of women came through, wanting to be his empress, some were forced to go as they were available and not with anyone yet, but most truly wanted to be over the entire palace.

all of the girls were the same, timid and shy. they all wore the same thing as well, long, elegant dresses with their finest of jewels and gold on. with a wave of his hand, he sent them off with a flick of his hand, barely even looking at them anymore.

but, there was one girl that happened to catch his eye. he was too busy waving off the other girl, but just as he turned to look at the line of girls again, you came up. he’d never seen anyone in the palace like you before. you were the complete opposite of all the rest of the girls, you weren’t timid or shy, in fact, you seemed confident, and sure of yourself. you also didn’t wear any revealing, long, or elegant dresses. you wore — what most common women would consider to be outlandish— jeans, and a pretty blouse with heels that made sure you were seen.

he put his hand back down upon looking at you, leaning forward to get a better look at you. “what’s your name?” he asked. this shocked everyone else in the throne room. it even shocked the line of girls standing behind you. “y/n, sir.” you told him. he smiled. your voice was loud, it wasn’t soft, it was almost dominating in a way. he liked that. “guards, i pick her.” he voiced, looking at you with a small smile.

you were shocked even yourself. you’d came to the kingdom as a joke, and you’re going to be crowned empress within the day. “y-you’re sure, emperor?” the guards asked, taking small steps towards you. “absolutely positive.” he said. still staring at you.

“everyone else out, i’ve found my empress!” yoongi told the long line of girls. some where in shock, but still walked away never the less. then, once everyone was gone, it was simply you, yoongi, and two of his best guards in the room. “please, make her comfortable in my room? i’ve got a few things to finish first, but i’ll be there in a minute.” he ordered, the guards. one of the guards smiled at you. “follow us, miss.” he told you, leading you out of the throne room and into the wide halls. they took you past the kitchen, dining room, and living room, all the way to his bedroom.

they opened the door for you, and you stepped in, allowing yourself to be amazed. his room was the size of your entire cottage. “we’ll be outside of the door miss, if you need anything. also, you can take your heels off if you’d like, emperor won’t mind.” he says, a small smile playing at his lips.

“thank you, sir.” you told him, taking off the heels. he closed the door behind him, and you immediately looked around the room, looking from corner to corner at the amazingly elegant room. diamond chandeliers we’re on the ceiling, glowing slightly as light illuminated them. the bed was possibly the most beautiful; it was undeniably huge. the bedspread was absolutely gorgeous. you sat onto the bed, sighing softly at how soft it felt. slowly, you sat farther into it, moving so that you were at the top between the plentiful pillows with your legs crossed, taking in everything.

your ears perked as you heard light footsteps. the door opened to reveal the emperor. “are you okay?” he asked once his eyes landed on you. “i’m fine, just taking it all in, emperor.” you told him, scooting over on the bed to make room. for him. “i realize the could be a bit much and overwhelming, so i apologize for that. and please, call me yoongi,” he told you, trying to get you to relax and make you comfortable. “may i ask you a question?” you asked, slowly letting your guard down. “always.” he said.

“why did you pick me?” it was an honest question. you weren’t like any of the other girls there. “because you were different, confident, and sure about yourself.” he shrugged. “everyone else was the same, but you weren’t and that intrigued me.” he explained. you nodded your head. “you’re really nice, yoongi. not at all how everyone paints you.” you told him. he looked down. “thank you, people paint me as mean or ungrateful.” he said. you urged him to continue. “it’s not that i hate it here, i just- if i was going to become emperor, i wanted to do it by myself. not be born into it.” he said.

“i understand that completely.” you empathized. “i’m not mean, i just don’t like to talk a lot and people perceive that as me being mean.” he explained. you nodded, finally understanding. “are you hungry or anything? do you want to do something? or do you want to stay here and talk?” he asked, changing the subject. “i don’t have any clothes here, could i get tailored for some while we talk?” you countered. “sure.” he got out of the bed himself, and helped you out soon after.

the both of you talked some more as you walked down a hallway, the guards following close behind. he led you to a room, and when you walked in, the shelves were wracked with clothes of all sorts and colors. there was a small lady there as well, hanging some of the clothes up on racks. she heard the door open and turned towards us. “hi, sir. how may i help you today?” she asked, bowing. “i assume you’ve heard the news, rose? this is the woman i’ve chosen to become my empress. i need her to be tailored...?” he asked the woman called rose politely. she nodded her head, and pulled you towards the stand.

yoongi let his hands drop as you pulled from his arms. rose began getting measuring tape and pins. without being asked, yoongi turned away, not wanting to make you uncomfortable. you silently thanked him as you allowed rose to undress you and, wrap the measuring tape around your stomach, your chest, and your hips. “is there anything else we could do after this?” you asked to break the silence. “always, we could sit in on the guards practice, it’s usually entertaining.” he chuckled at a memory. “or we could eat or simply watch tv. whatever you’d like.” he said, and you could just about hear the smile in his voice.

“could we sit in on the guards?” you asked, still slightly reserved. “of course.” he affirmed. “alrighty dear! i have your measurements! i’m sure, if i go ahead and get to work, i can have some clothes made for you by tomorrow!” she said with a smile, helping you down from the tiny step. “please, rose, take your time.” you said. “i don’t want to overwork you.” she seemed shocked for a tiny second before hugging you and looking over your shoulder at yoongi. “i like her, she’s a keeper.” she pulls away from you with a warm smile. yoongi smiles back at her, a knowing glint in his eye.

you give rose one last smile before linking arms with yoongi, and walking out of the door. “the armory is down the hall, we can sit in with the guards if you’re still interested.” he offered, allowing you to walk in step with him. you nodded your head, allowing him to lead you down the hall.

yoongi stepped into the armory first, and then you, people immediately smiling when they saw the two of you. the bowed to you politely, and then went back to their training. you and yoongi sat on the side on a small bench, and you watched with excited eyes as they practiced with guns and knives.

yoongi took a moment of you letting your guard down to truly admire you. he liked how your eyes twinkled in excitement whenever a guard got a bullseye, or the way your lips upturned whenever you spotted the guards competing. he admired your features at well, like your lips, your eyes, your pufffy cheeks. he found himself with a smile on his own face as he watched how excited for you.

he wasn’t expecting you to turn to him so quickly, so when you did, he looked away with a blush. “may i try?” you asked, excitement laced in your voice as you practically bounced on the seat. “of course, y/n. this is now your palace as well.” he said, the link blush still on the tips of his ears. you stood up and went towards on of the guards, asking to try yourself.

the guard handed over the knives with a bow, and stood behind you as he watched. taking a deep breath, you stand in center with the target before picking a knife to throw. you build your stance, and, as everyone watched, you threw the knife hitting it perfectly in the center of the target. you smiled, and began throwing the other knives with deadly precision.

you looked around after you were finished, and their jaws dropped — even yoongi’s. amazed, the guard handed you more knives to throw. yoongi began to admire more things about you. the way your hands flexed as you threw the knives, how your muscles and arms flexed even more when you threw them. yoongi felt a blush rise to his ears as he wondered what else you could do with your hands....

he shook his head to rid himself of those thoughts once he saw you coming over. “i didn’t know you were good with knives.” he voiced, nudging you a little. “yeah, it was my occupation before. i was a bounty hunter, so i’m good with knives, guns, bows, and a lot of other tools.” you said with a slight laugh. “it’s nightfall. i hadn’t realized.” he mumbled, “would you like to sleep?” he asked, wanting you to be as comfortable as possible.

“yes, actually. i’m still slightly overwhelmed, so i’m sure some sleep should calm me down.” you said, following his movements as he stood up. you still didn’t know your way around the palace, so you let yoongi lead you. when the both of you made it to the bedroom, you were still in awe at how grand it was.

“i realize you don’t have any sleeping clothes, would you like to sleep in my shirt and a pair of briefs?” he asked, not wanting you to be uncomfortable. “yeah, that’ll be fine until tomorrow.” you tell him, going to get the things from his closet. he goes into the bathroom as you change, going to change into his comfortable clothes himself.

once he comes back, he’s removing the extra pillows from the bed. “tomorrow will be even more overwhelming, so i apologize for that.” he says, peeling back the sheets. “with the crowing, the kingdom meetings, and a lot of other things.” he explains.

you begin to get into the bed with him, facing him as the both of you talked. “everyone will be wanting to know what my next moves are with you as my empress.” he sounded tired already at just the thought of all the activities for tomorrow. “maybe it’ll go by fast, and besides, now it won’t be so boring because i can keep you company.” you attempt to soothe him. he smiles, and you yawn. “sorry.” you apologize. “don’t be sorry. we have a long day ahead of us, get some rest.” he tells you before leaning over to turn off the light. the both of you laid like that for a while, comfortable silence surrounded the both of you. it wasn’t awkward as it probably should’ve been; yoongi made you feel comfortable.

you drifted off to sleep first, cute little snores leaving you mouth. yoongi, however was up, as thoughts of previous events filled his head. he couldn’t stop thinking about the way you handled the knives, how dominant and strong you looked at you did it, how your hands and muscles flexed. he tried to rid himself of those thoughts, but instead went to sleep thinking of you.

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you woke up to the sound of whimpering and whining, an arm around you, and something pressed against your thighs. you blinked your eyes open to see yoongi, rutting pathetically on your thigh. he seemed to still be sleep as he whimpered, and continued to grind.

being your lip, you contemplated in your head. ‘should i do something...?’ you were reluctant as you gently pushed him on his back, looking intently as he continued to sleep. you were about to touch him but stopped all your movement when you heard your name fall from his lips. “y-y/n...” he mumbled again, hips subtly bucking into the air. “he’s thinking of me?” you thought, a smirk crossing your face.

“yoongi..” you say, leaning close to his ear as you trailed a single finger down his arm. his eyes fluttered open, and almost instantly, he began to blush. “i saw you were having a good dream.” you teased, watching as he got even more red. “i’m so, so sorry i-“ he began to apologize. “what were you thinking about that has you like this, baby boy?” you asked, hands roaming further and further down. he continued to stay silent. “you gripped his jaw with your freehand. “i believe, i asked you a question.” you told him. in that moment, he felt so incredibly small as you touched him. “i-i was thinking about you.” he finally admitted.

“thinking of me doing what?” you continued to tease. “t-thinking of you t-touching me.” he said. you let your hands go to his boxers, cupping him through the material, and he groaned. the red blush never left his cheeks as he hid his face. “was i touching you here?” you asked, palming him slowly. “y-yes, fuck-“ he cursed, hips already bucking into your hand. he whimpered, and you felt the front of his boxers become wet with precum.

you pulled down his boxers, and from there his cock stood at attention. it was glistening with precum as more and more dribbled down in small beads. “please?” it was yoongi’s voice as he pleaded for you to do something. deciding not to tease him any farther, you wrap a hand around him, leisurely moving it up and down. the moment your hand touched his cock, he moans so heavenly.

“k-kiss me, please?” he asked, timely, hips moving into your fist. you decide to reward him and give him what he wants, leaning down to attach your lips with his. your lips moved in soft rhythm, there was a fight for dominance, he allowed you to do what you wanted. he moaned and whimpered into your mouth as he got closer. you pulled away, moving kisses from his lips to his neck, immediately sucking hickies into his skin.

“please, y/n. i’m so slose.” his voice was so whiny and pleading. “you can come whenever you want.” you told, him, hand moving faster to bring him to the edge quicker. his cock twitched in your hand, and on,y moments later, he came. “thank you, thank you, thank you.” he mumbled, hips still grinding against your hand, cum getting on the small of his stomach and your upper hands.

you let him ride out his orgasm, and pulled away. yoongi immediately hid his face. you reached over him,and grabbed some tissues to clean the both of you up with. you removed his soiled shirt, and pulled him close to you as he hid his face in your neck.

“what’s wrong?” you asked, soothing his back. “i had a wet dream about you, and you were forced to help me.” his words were muffled, but you understood them. “it’s okay baby, and trust me. i wouldn’t have helped you if i didn’t want to.” you told him. pulling away so he’d look at you. the blush on his cheeks was going down slowly. “you don’t mind me being submissive?” he asked, moving closer to cuddle with you. “of course not. i like the subby side of you.” you admitted,he simply smiled against your skin.

“go to sleep now, yoon, we have 5 hours until our meetings.” you tell him and kiss his forehead. you lean over to turn off the light, and pulled yoongi closer to you as you drifted asleep with him laying comfortably in your arms.

#bts #dom!reader #fluff #smut #sub!bts #sub!idol #kpop smut #sub!yoongi #rap line #sub!kpop #suga #yoongi #min yoongi smut #kingdom au #emperor #emperor au #ambw #bts ambw

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arofili · 4 years

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how’d u get into writing? like, writing fic and being part of the silm community, being Known, that stuff? i’m really new to being a silm cc and i’d love to know ur advice! also: how’d u build up the confidence to start posting meta/hcs? bc i have a Lot of hcs and meta ideas but also i’m really anxious abt posting them bc yknow anxiety is like that

these are some great questions, anon! I’m gonna go through them one by one :)

how’d u get into writing?

not to be like, super cliche, but I’ve...kind of always been a writer? as long as I can remember I’ve been telling stories, and when I was too young to read or write I would dictate them to my mom, who would type them up for me and help me choose clipart illustrations to accompany them. when I got old enough I would always be writing; I attempted my first novel at age 9, and while that never really went anywhere I did finish the darn thing and it had some pretty sophisticated plot twists for a 9-year-old!

like, writing fic

around the same time I got into fandom! I was deep into Warrior cats (like. really deep) and I believe I started writing my first fics when I was like? 10 or 11? my memory is kind of fuzzy on the order of things, but I know I got an account on the Warriors forums when I was 9, and that I was already posting my fic there when I made my FFN account. I believe I was 12 when that happened, but who knows. I haven’t the faintest idea of what happened with those forums, but uhhh pretty much all of my Warriors fic is still up on FFN lmao. you could probably find that if you want to but um...maybe don’t?

my first Big Fic was a self-insert of...my entire 5th/6th grade class into the then-current timeline of the Warriors books...well. I honestly think that might still be my most popular fic of all time l m a o though I try not to think about it because Hashtag Cringe. though as much as I look back on that time with a “yikes,” I am very grateful for the Warriors fandom in a way? that place was so accepting and encouraging of OCs, of AUs, of completely disregarding canon, of worldbuilding that is completely alien from canon - it was a fantastic sandbox to begin with, there were so many ways to write stories and practically all of them were accepted and had fellow fans invested in them!

and being part of the silm community,

soooo I wrote Warriors fic until my freshman year of high school (wow sdjfhkdsjfh), which was when BOTFA came out, and I was absolutely wrecked by the ending and immediately started writing my own fixit fic. I was also super hooked on Kiliel! so that was my intro to the Tolkien fandom; and simultaneously, I joined tumblr, and, well, the rest is history tbh.

I honestly do not remember when I first read the Silm, but I kind of got into the more obscure parts of the Tolkien fandom through fandom osmosis, and I do have a vague memory of doodling the Finwean family tree in geometry class so it might have been later on in freshman year? that was also the same time I was having my Queer Awakening, and Russingon definitely contributed to me unlearning my internalized queerphobia, so probably around then.

anyway - queer awakening, tumblr, Tolkien, transitioning from FFN to AO3 - all of that was happening around the same time. I know I dipped my toes in the Silm fandom then, but I was still primarily a Hobbit fic writer focusing on Kiliel. toward the end of high school I kind of shifted to LOTR and (qp) Gigolas...but somehow the Silm fandom is the most active of the Big Three within the Tolkien fandom, and I was getting dragged further and further in.

it wasn’t until @backtomiddleearthmonth 2019, my freshman year of college, that I really dove into writing Silm fic! I picked some Silm-specific bingo cards and never looked back :D that was really not all that long ago but I am obsessed in a way I don’t really remember being even with TH/LOTR, I obviously cannot see the future but I anticipate hanging out here for a long time. the Silm fandom is great overall and there’s just so much material to work with!! <3

being Known, that stuff?

so I don’t really have a whole lot of context on how “well known” I am in the fandom?? definitely within the past year and a half or so I’ve noticed that I like, get asks like this, and get a significant amount of notes on my posts, and I’ve made a lot of fandom friends especially since I joined some Silm servers on Discord (hmu if you want invites; I’m on the SWG server and 2 general Silm servers and the Russingon server) this past year. and I have 3,000 followers as of this month - and while ever since I hit 1k I don’t particularly pay attention to my follower count I can definitely say that I have more engagement now than I used to! but it took me a long time to build this “audience,” I suppose; I’ve been around the Tolkien fandom since late 2014, so nearly 6 years of this, lol.

really the best way to build a following, in my experience, is to just post a lot of stuff. when I started making edits I got a lot more engagement, because for a long time I would post one every day! (I made them in batches and queued them; I didn’t actually make one every day lol...and now I’m too busy to do that, so I just make edits for events and whenever I feel like it) And I have [checks ao3] 145 works in the Silm fandom as of today - I’m fairly prolific! I’ve come to generally expect 3-10 comments on most of my oneshots, which is a lot more than I used to have back in the day. consistency and quantity are more likely to attract people to your work - and quality, of course.

also: how’d u build up the confidence to start posting meta/hcs?

I’ve been writing since I was very young, and I’ve been writing fic for like...11 years? I think? in that time I’ve produced a lot of garbage, but imo most of that was in my Warrior cats phase, so I came into the Tolkien fandom with confidence in myself and my writing. I’m also working on original fiction on the side (I hope to eventually become a published fantasy author, but right now school takes up most of my time that I don’t devote to fandom, which gives me more immediate gratification and also is just Very Fun) and I know I’m a good writer.

basically, I’ve been doing this for like...half my life, and I’m still fairly young, so I’ve had time to build up my skill and confidence and I know I’m only going to get better with time. you will get better with practice. like I said, I’ve written a lot of terrible stuff, and it’s only through sucking for a long time that I’ve gotten to the point I am now. and I am far from perfect; I know I still have lots of room to grow!

for meta and headcanons specifically, I started with writing fic, and then when I didn’t think I could stretch something into an entire fic I would just make a hc post. I have a vivid memory of writing my first meta in a notebook during driver’s ed because it was so goddamn boring and I had Thoughts about Tauriel and Thranduil!

in my experience, meta comes from having Opinions and wanting to share them and most importantly to back them up - you need to have sources! you need to have reasons! you need to have justification! otherwise it’s not meta, it’s a headcanon or an AU. which is fine!! I love hc/AU!!! but they are not the same as meta, and I’m a stickler for being accurate when it comes to meta. if you have sources and shit to back you up, that will help you build the confidence to share your meta.

sharing disinformation and passing it off as meta instead of just coming out and saying this is a headcanon/baseless theory/AU or whatever is such a fandom pet peeve of mine; it’s not bad for something to not be Accurate! you just have to have that disclaimer - and even when you’re writing meta, you’re offering an interpretation of the text, and you need to acknowledge that other interpretations also exist and are valid.

um. I hope this answers your questions? and sorry for basically word-vomiting my entire life story, lol. this post got long; the main reason I’ve written so much fic is because I really just cannot shut up for the life of me. sooo if you can tear of that filter of being shy and just. say shit. you can go so far~!

OH and one more thing - I can’t believe I almost forgot this - but part of being a writer is participating in the community. this is code for LEAVE A DAMN COMMENT IF YOU LIKE A FIC. that’s how I made most of my fandom friends before Discord! I follow @ao3feed-silmarillion and stalk that blog for new Silm fics; I read the ones that interest me and comment on them.

I know this is not really the most common way for folks to find fic but it’s so rewarding to interact with new fic, new writers, new commentors, new stories - you can find gems that don’t rise to the top of the kudos/bookmark lists; you become friends with your fellow writers; you can watch people grow and change; you support smaller content creators. yeah, you might not be getting Just The Best Stuff, but it’s so so so worth it!!

and if you make friends in the comment section of other people’s fic - I guarantee you some of them will go to your AO3 profile and check out your fic, too! and they’ll leave comments! this is a fic community, and that’s what I cherish about fandom most of all, tbh.

anyway - again - sorry for rambling so much, but I hoped this helped! feel free to send in another ask, or to come talk to me off anon if you’d like! and definitely send me your stuff if/when you decide to share it; I would love to support you!!! <3

#silm #silm fandom #silmarillion #fan culture #tmi anna #(for real this time sjdfhdkfh)#tefain nin #long post #anon #answers

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