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hysteriium · 4 years ago

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𝑺𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝑩𝒐𝒍𝒅 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑺𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝑩𝒍𝒖𝒆;

(𝐆𝐢𝐟 𝐢𝐬𝐧'𝐭 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞)

(𝐀/𝐧 ): This is the first I’ve posted in ages!!! I can’t recall how long it’s been, life has truly been hectic but I’m getting back on the saddle!!! We’re starting with my boi! I hope you enjoy it as much as I had fun writing this! I’ve been experimenting with the way he talks so it’s not as overt as I’ve previously written! I feel like the intonations may break the flow a bit so I’ve tried to make it more cohesive! Lmk what you guys think! Also shout out to my amazing partner @lilliryth they’re the light of my life and helped me edit this!! They’re such an amazing person and I would not be where I am today without them.

( 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 ): Wedding. That is all. It’s not what you think.

( 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 ): DK! Joker x Reader.

( 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 ): 7,600+ k words!

( 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 ): Angst (very little), swearing, violence.

The first time you’d asked, he simply stared in disbelief.

“Come again?” The bright red hues of confusion painted his husky voice.

The question had been wreaking havoc in your thoughts for the past month, unsure of how to slip out from ambiguity onto the sureness of the tongue. Such a bold yet silly little request was sure to be large and repugnant to the man hovering above you. While the darkness of his eyes was accentuated by his stygian greasepaint, hints of cocoa peeked through, prompting shy flutters of anxiety in your abdomen.

You can do this.

Your tongue slid across the arid cracks of your lips, wetting them. You cleared your throat, “I need a date to a wed–”

That was all you could get out before he blinked a few times and strode off.

The second time, albeit similar in difficulty, thankfully didn’t result in him running.

You tiptoed into his makeshift office with an air of mischief, his room sombre except for the lamp that spotlighted his desk. Hunched over blueprints which you suspected were his next big scheme, his eyes never drifted from the intricacies on the paper.

“Boo!” You shouted, catching his hips with an unbreakable hold when you closed the distance. While his body tensed, he couldn’t control the breath of amusement that left his nose.

“I can see you really tried there.”

You knew he followed your stare when his long fingers worked to roll the sheet. They were fast – so fast the pinched ends stuck out in layered rings that almost resembled winding mountainous trails. He couldn’t have curious eyes ogling his extra top secret will-have-to-kill-you-if-you-found-out criminal plans, now could he?

“What?” you started, while your hands fell and your footsteps whispered away from him. You felt the creases of your mouth wobble, ready to smile at any moment, and so you bit the inside of your tongue. “Don’t you trust me?”

“No,” he smirked, petting your head.

Curse his height.

“Now, uh, what is it, doll?”

You let your smile leap free, “I need to ask a super dooper big fav–”

“I’m not going.”

“But whyyyyyy? My parents are harassing me! They think their daughter’s going to grow old and grey and be alone forever.”

“Gee, I can’t imagine why.”

You shot him a look, one that only fuelled his amusement.

“J, I can’t just not show up.”

You watched his figure rise slightly as he drew and released a breath.

“I don’t like wed–” his tongue stuck out like he’d tasted something bad before he cleared his throat “–dings, they’re full of false hope, drunks and...” he shuddered, “romance. You see, they’ll end up killing each other in a few years. I can picture it now: dearly beloved wife kills cheating husband. Oh how could this have ever happened?”

He scoffed.

“You’re so dramatic. I promise it would only be for a few hours.”

“And pumpkin, how exactly are you gonna sneak me into a… place like that when I look like this,” he said, hands motioning to his face – mostly his scars.

It broke your heart. You could've sworn you heard it splinter, the downturn of your brows impossible to hold back. If only words were enough to convey complex feelings, to convey the pile of bricks nestled in your chest, to convey the desperate crave to comfort and rebut, the need to protect – even from himself. You had yet to find a way, and so you were stuck behind the thick lock and chain of language with no key in sight; restricted and bound to tools you never thought were enough, but could only hope were enough.

“Hey,” you whispered, reaching up to cup his face. In his eyes you saw the emotions flicker, almost as tangible as they were transparent – anger, fear, shock. Stood still and stiff, you nodded softly, giving him a smile of equal warmth. “It’s okay. You’re okay.”

He squinted before hesitantly giving in, shifting so his cheek rested against your palm. He had to lower himself a little more to do so.

“There’s absolutely nothing wrong with how you look. They’re beautiful, and I’ll keep saying so until there’s no breath left in my lungs.”

You held him ever so gently while he flitted his eyes shut. Your heart galloped then, its swell too big for your body and for a moment, brief as the breeze, the chaos he prided himself in was absent; for a moment there was peace.

“If you weren’t The Joker, I’d say go as is. Though, I have a plan!”

“Oh, do you now?” He said, shaking his head and returning to work. It was clear he was rapidly reaching his patience threshold.

Damn it.

“They have food!” You trailed off unsurely, as if it was a question – pinning your last hope on appealing to his raccoon inclinations.

It didn’t work.

The third, well…

You had just about given up and accepted the fact that it wasn’t his scene, that him meeting your parents would never be an option – a reality you had started to think of as a good thing the more you thought about it.

And so, the third day had been your acceptance. Self-care. Instead of chasing after an ideal, your hands were clutching a book, almost too hard, as the part you had been anticipating since very early had reached its finale. With your legs curled underneath you and practically asleep, your eyes flicked furiously from word to word–

That is until a looming figure shadowed the page completely, concealing all light from the lamp next to you.

Annoyance creased your features as you looked up at the clownish culprit. Your eyes met and a staring contest ensued, the intensity of his eyes beckoning a response until he, uncharacteristically, broke first.

“Will this make you, uh, happy?”

All traces of irritation were washed away by bewilderment, “sorry?”

“My being with you.”

“You mean to the wedding?” You asked, wide-eyed. If you hadn’t been as shocked as you were, you would have snorted at his continuous inability to say the word ‘wedding’.

He shifted on his feet, eyes darting away for a second before he licked his lips. “Yeah.”

“Is this a joke?”

“I’m not that cruel.”

You paused to hum obnoxiously, your finger tapping your chin to challenge the notion.

“Never mind,” he waved his hand in the air and was about to walk off before you grabbed his hand and sprung off your seat. You felt him try to wiggle out of your grasp with a grunt, but it was too late. “Thank you!” You shouted.

You missed the way his surprise melted into a genuine curl of his lips, twitching; the muscles unused. Instead, you were too busy stuffed in his vest, with your arms swathed around him. You both stayed there for a while basking in the warmth of each other, as his hands, which you guessed were hanging awkwardly in the air and unsure of what to do, encircled your waist.

Third time’s the charm.

Shaking fingers twirled sapphire silk, gliding over your cinched waist before finally moving up to the delicate exposed flesh of your neck. You glanced over the spaghetti straps that curved comfortably over your shoulder, and the simple silver circle necklace that laid between them, its chilled presence clashing with the heat of your skin.

Knock knock knock!

“Just a minute!” You said, jumping at the sudden rude intrusion.

“Not even funeral parlors take this long,” you heard J say from the other side, the distinctive departure of footsteps following promptly. They seemed faster than usual.

You puffed air at his complaint after calming your racing heart. Then you scrambled to finish up the final touches of makeup, at last winding the nude colored ribbons of your heels around your calves. Your head felt light, and your shoes only worsened the sudden gelatinous state your legs took on. Never before had you dressed up in such a way, not for years and much less in front of someone you dearly cherished. The line between fashionable and laughable was blurred and never truly had been exercised. Waving away the fuel your anxious thoughts provided, you decided to try and move. Your heels wobbled trying to avoid the flowing material pooled by your ankles, and you’d just managed to slip one foot out through the thigh-high slit. No matter how much you sighed, the pressure remained, weighing like an anvil. And so, with nothing much to lose, you made your way to the door; the dampness of your fingers leaving its foggy signature upon the knob.

This was it.

You breathed in one last time before opening the door.

“Okay, I’m re–”

You exhaled sharply, feeling the earlier intake of air leave you – taking with it the remaining wind in your lungs. You couldn’t control the twinkle of your eyes, nor the flip of your stomach as you gazed upon him.

His form was angled against the wall and his arms were crossed – that was, until he dragged his eyes over to you. His limbs then dropped to their sides and he quickly, almost stumbling over his shoes, righted his position. The bob of his Adam's apple was clear while both of you stood meters from each other with widened eyes. You knew he had the ability to pull off a suit, but the royal blue he donned was stunning. The stark colour complemented his blond locks, while his foulard tie with its blends of pinks, purples, and its navy base matched his socks.

It seemed you were both in the same boat, consumed by swells of giddiness and the need to fidget. The fingers that were dressed in dark brown leather gloves drummed against his thigh, while one of his cedar suede shoes tapped furiously against the floor.

“What.” He finally stated, rather than questioning.

You dropped the necklace your fingers had started circling.

“Nothing! You just look… really nice,” you uttered earnestly, unable to contain the sweet smile that broke through awe.

“Yeah, yeah. Uh… you too,” he said, the last part coming out less steady.

He avoided eye contact when you trotted over to him, fiddling with his cufflinks, though his tending to them immediately vanished when you began to accentuate the swish of your hips.

All fidgeting stopped.

You were sure he was expecting something else, rather than the delicate cupping of his cheek once you reached him, soft lips meeting with roughened skin as you kissed his scars. You took your time with each one, whispering affection, before claiming his mouth. He growled against you, and you could feel him tighten his hold.

The tip of his tongue traced the stain of lipstick, a wordless demand for entry which left you weak. Almost parting your lips to allow the gentle slide of his tongue, he suddenly reared back with a smirk.

“Peach,” he cooed.

You were going to have to reapply later.

With a small smile you extended your arm to the couch, and knowing time was beginning to pass, he complied. As he advanced, you peeked at the orange lining in his blazer. The hue was similar to his purple coat, though slightly lighter. You smiled to yourself, the small detail so characteristically him.

“Alright. Let’s get this over with,” he sighed, bracing himself.

Already a step ahead, you had brought out the makeup needed just prior to getting dressed. Sitting on one of the nearby surfaces, you picked up a small translucent bag with little red hearts on it – a fact he’d snickered to himself at when he first saw it – and walked over to him.

“As you wish, grumpy,” you simpered, “now hold still!”

True to his new title, you heard him mutter something unintelligible under his breath. The tap-tap-tap of his foot against the floor was most of the noise for a good while, and although distracting, the fidgeting of his hands was less noisy. You knew more than anyone he needed to squirm around, some movement at the very least, and so you endured. You deduced that he’d not been this close to someone in so very long, let alone allow them to do his makeup. That task, intimate and personal within itself, was not something others could be trusted with.

“Time to hide these little guys,” you murmured, focused as the beauty blender sat between your fingers and dabbed on concealer. “Not that they need hiding. I’ll miss them.”

“Really?” He chimed in, eyes shut while you did your work.

“Yeah, they’re a part of you and I’d never want you to hide or be ashamed of who you are.”

“Hmm,” he trailed off.

Occasionally his mouth quirked, his tongue darting out to lick his scars; an involuntary movement. You were patient, and even if he wasn’t overt about his guilt of messing up your progress, you reassured him lightly with a kiss on the head, sometimes playing with the dirty blond waves that lacked any sign of green.

The day before he’d washed out the colour in preparation for the big day, groaning until he caught sight of himself in the mirror; contemplative. Ethereal and almost delicate he seemed. How precious it was to witness such cracks in the fortress, where the basking rays of sun illuminated what once was – and still is, only shrouded by shrubbery and thorns, so overgrown and disordered that they had forgotten to take care of even themselves. Forgotten how.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” he groaned as you finished blending the concealer on both cheeks. Grabbing the foundation you had colour matched, you dabbed a bit on your hand before applying that too.

“Honestly, me neither,” you replied, feeling no need to sugarcoat the shock from your tone. You knew he appreciated the truth. “But I’m glad you are! You’re doing so well!”

He squirmed a little at the compliment but settled seconds later. Soon after finishing the blending, you reared back and observed your labour. Although it wasn’t perfect, and if you looked hard enough you could still see the intricate crevices in his skin, it passed.

“All done!”

As soon as you spoke, J pushed off his palms. He was halfway off the chair when you stopped him.

“Wait! I have to walk you through something.”

At this, his eyebrows quirked up. You knew you had his attention.

“Conditions!” You announced.

“Ah. Now there are conditions.”

“Yes! I don’t want you to throw a tantrum and blow up the whole reception.”

“My my, aren’t you a little fire stopper.”

“Promise me.”

He flicked his tongue and rolled his eyes. With one hand on his chest and the other raised just next to his head, he bowed a little. “I swear.”

You wrinkled your nose, “I swear there will be no funny business, and I’ll be on my best behaviour – oh and no crossing your toes either!”

“You know me so well,” he sighed, admitting defeat, “Fine. I swear there’ll be no funny business and I’ll be on…” he cleared his throat and brought a closed fist to his mouth, “my best behaviour.” Then he shone his impishly wide grin, one that only intensified the pit of doubt in your stomach.

It would have to do, though.

“Okay,” you whispered.

He stood up now, towering over you.

“Okay,” he mimicked, dropping his hands at the base of your hips.

The last few days had been full of surprises, his agreement to attend trumping all. However, his overt display of affection was a close second. Never before had he been so forthcoming and so comfortable with physical contact.

As his hands laid there, unmoving and making their home in your curves, you inched closer to him; a specific craving only his warmth could ease. Though, those very same hands around you tightened when you tried to step forward, holding you in place. Curiously, you looked up at him, brows furrowed.

“What are you–”

It seemed he couldn’t help himself. The evil laughter he’d been trying to restrain bubbled from his throat and bounced off the walls. The eagerness to ask what he was doing quickly died – hard – when you could no longer feel the ground beneath your feet. It instead morphed into protests and occasional bouts of laughter as your arms dangled along his back, your pelvis against his shoulder. One gloved hand rested crudely just below the curve of your ass, occasionally squeezing your upper thigh and holding you in place, while his other arm hung unobstructed.

“We–” he clicked his tongue, “–wouldn’t want to be late now, would we?” He finished, purring.

The location was a couple hours outside of Gotham on the coastline in an area you’d practically never heard of. If it wasn’t for J’s gift for navigation, and his frustration when you kept leading him down wrong turns, you would have been hours late instead of just missing the ceremony. The last straw had been assuring him the early exit was your turn off despite his gut instinct, despite the countless times he asked ‘are you sure?’ and despite his sneaking glances – something he stopped doing when he almost crashed into the car next to you, too focused on craning his neck. All of this combined had resulted in the brutal demise of your map reading days.

Stopping where he could after taking the wrong exit he held out a gloved hand, a wordless demand for the navigator. Before long, you were back on the freeway, thankfully heading the right way. The directory rested in his lap as he balanced the seemingly breezy tasks of reading and driving.

Clearly safety was his middle name.

Once the two of you arrived at the venue, the first thing you both noticed was the heat. Warm and uncomfortable, the seabreeze made this bearable. The next notable feature was the rambunctious clamour of the crowd; music, laughter and shouting.

After worming your way out of the van, comically wedged between two much smaller cars, you headed towards the reception, stopping short from the asphalt-sand border. J stared at it as if it had foiled his genius villainous plots, as if it was the cause of all his misfortunes, as if it was responsible for the brutal murder of his first pet. Then, he made a face – a mixture between a scowl and disgust.

He sniffed, “it smells like...” he paused to grimace, “high society.”

The ghastly look was then directed ahead to each moving – breathing – organism he could see. There was no doubt in your mind the crowd had already made it on his hit list.

“For once I miss the stink of Gotham.”

“Well at least it’s at the beach!” You exclaimed, not recalling the last time you’d been. Trying to think that far back made your brain hurt, the tingle of overworked cogs and Brain Fog a lethal combination that coerced your forfeit in seconds. At the very least you were happy to be making new memories, hopefully some you’d be able to remember in the future; memories you prayed were not, later too, guarded by the merciless Brain Fog and his ravenous desire to generate headaches.

“I hate the beach,” J delivered flatly, hatred distilled rolling off his person in waves.

“Oh, you hate everything!” You pouted, brushing off his pessimism.

“It’s hard not to.”

“Well…” You stopped to think, wracking your brain to prove him wrong, “what about me?”

That had to get him.

“You especially,” he grinned, eyes twinkling with a mischief that spoke nothing other than ‘you walked right into that one, sweetheart.’

You were unable to help the sigh that sailed past your hued lips, “well, come on sunshine. You can’t stare daggers at them all day.”

“I can try,” he spat sourly.

You rolled your eyes and dragged him along but immediately dropped the act when you quickly realised it hauled unwanted eyes, like metal to magnets. Yet, J followed even though you were certain he saw the cursed asphalt-sand barrier as the very gates of hell themselves. In fact, he seemed a little bit too eager to start his anathematised exploration of the 9 circles as when you looked back, expecting to see his long limbs hanging in defeated protest, you were met with, well, nothing.

One moment he was there, the next he was gone seemingly stalking off into the unknown, hiding among the sea of people. It wasn’t like he was easy to lose either, his height and his aura of absolute discomfort is what set him apart from the rest. He protruded like a broken bone – so why couldn’t you find him?

“Damn it, J!” You harshly whispered to yourself, unknowingly stamping your foot until the insidious specks of sand tumbled their way into your shoe, under your feet and between your toes. Easily conquering your layer of protection, their coarse presence made you want to grind your teeth.

Maybe this was a mistake.

Before you could go off and search for the lost irritating puppy, you heard shouts. At first they seemed like ordinary yells, distinctive deviations from the crowd which happened to catch your attention at the right moment. Though, the more time passed and you wandered around like a newborn giraffe looking for its mother, you realised this was not the case. Most telling was the way those vague cries morphed into the familiar syllables of your name. And then finally in view, the supposed sweet comfort of childhood embodied neared; their worn features staring into your own, different from all those years ago.

You fought the urge to run.

“Hey honey!” Your dad beamed.

Two pairs of smothering arms made their way toward you, enveloping. With your fingers clutching separate materials, each as scratchy and glacial as each other, your head started to spin and you felt yourself holding your breath.

“Hey mum, hey dad, it’s nice to see you two again,” you said, feeling the slow ache from clenching your jaw starting to set in. You quickly swapped this expression for a small smile when they released you.

“How’ve you been?” Your dad inquired, the shimmer in his eyes a sight you couldn’t help but double take at. You noticed there was no glass in his hand.

“Don’t bombard her dear,” your mum rolled her eyes, “where’s this date you were telling me about?”

She lingered on the word with an emotion you couldn’t quite discern while her adjudicating eyes swept over your outfit. Her eyebrows then lifted, scrunching her nose with it. “Not bad.”

Her scanning forced you to shrink into yourself, the automatic motion of your palms relentless in their pursuit of wrinkles, a fact you did not pick up on until your mother cleared her throat at your unprompted staring contest.

“My question dear, it’s rude to ignore your mother,” her thin brows creased and the folds just above them rested along her forehead in a similar fashion.

You scrambled for an acceptable answer, the question just as ambiguous to yourself.

“He’s… um… getting us drinks! I was actually just about to go check up on–”

“Well if a man can’t even fetch you a drink he’s hardly useful,” she scoffed, turning to her husband to whisper, “can’t imagine what this prince charming looks like.”

Anger, lava-like and boiling, rose up in your throat. The pressure seemed unbearable as you tried to keep your mouth closed – tried not to defend the one you loved with your entire being. How dare she judge someone she had yet to even meet? She had yet to see the beauty that radiated in and out.

It had only been minutes and you’d already been zapped of your energy for the day.

“I think I should go check on him now.” “Yes, of course. Come back to me when you have something to show,” your mother smiled. You watched her lips stretch, her wine lipstick as pigmented as the red coating your vision.

Her hand clutched the necklace around her chest. Her fingers traced the glistening diamond which hung overtly, screaming it’s pricelessness to all passersby as she went to go have another sip of her champagne. At the corner of your eye you noticed movement, a pair of worn hands clutching suit pants. Hard. You turned automatically and when you met his eyes your dad shot you a strained smile. It almost looked like an apology.

Your stomach turned.

You tried your best to conceal the stomping as you promptly departed, promising yourself to at least wait until you were out of their view and blending in with the crowd. Once you merged with the patches, you quickly discovered that navigating your way out of it was going to be just as hard as trying to find J. Left and right amalgamated, looking the same no matter how many times you tried to compare differences and so did everyone’s outfits. You could have sworn you’d seen the same red dress three times, though you also could have sworn you went all different directions to the last; the truth was you were no more knowing than a sailor stranded at sea lacking a compass, the same indistinguishable shapelessness stretching out for miles and miles with no end in sight.

Then, a miracle – a clearing of people which shrieked hope and a long portable table with flowing white lace harbouring all kinds of food. Amongst the good news, a blotch of royal blue caught your eye and a flash of blond. Focusing your view on the table and its few inhabitants, one of which was the blue wearing stranger, you quickly realised your missing date was fixed and firm in place at the snack area. No sooner than this revelation processed you dashed over, the anger returning once the relief had run its fleeting course. As you stormed your way over to him he failed to look up, too preoccupied with the food he was collecting. Lacking in subtlety, you grabbed his arm.

“Jesus there you are! I’ve been looking all over for you!”

J, who had been waiting to stuff his face with what you identified as another cupcake, mouth ringed with strawberry frosting, crumbs and sprinkles, dropped it in surprise and turned to you with widened eyes. They shrunk as soon as they showed an inkling of surprise and instead shifted to speckled guilt.

“Cupcake,” he managed to mumble with a full mouth.

Your fiery frustration was immediately put out by how cute he was, and you felt a surge of guilt yourself. It wasn’t fair to be taking out your personal frustrations on him.

After closing your eyes and taking a breath, you reset.

“They think I’m lying about you.”

He swallowed.

“You wanna leave? I, uh, know I want to,” he said much louder than the whisper you wish he’d used.

Such a comment warranted an elbow jab into his waist as you smiled ear to ear and sickly sweet at the passing guest who had clearly heard J. The middle aged woman with short brunette hair, white pom-pom earrings and beady eyes shot you two a blazing look before rutting her nose into the air. The reek of pretension wafted off her. Now you could see what J was saying earlier.

Pee-yew.

Everyone here sucked.

“I’m gonna kill her later,” he murmured, squinting after her.

“J, you promised to be good!”

Even if she was a grandiloquent old bitch who deserved it.

His ominous response was to pour himself some punch, the clown-in-disguise bringing the plastic up to his lips. As the cup masked most of his face, the only thing visible was his deadly gaze which bounced from congregation to congregation.

“How much longer.” Again, it wasn’t phrased as a question, more a statement.

“The bride and groom haven’t even danced yet.”

He scrunched his nose, though dropped the subject. At least verbally.

“You’re so crabby. You do know that you’re drawing even more attention to yourself this way?”

“Hmmph.”

It was silent for a few minutes before, without warning, he grabbed your hand. The hesitant and jagged strokes of his thumb followed and even though they belonged to a novice, the delicacy was still there.

The message was clear:

I’m new to this.

Your lips upturned, the gentle quirk hidden by transient hair flowing along the salty breeze. His touch was warm and paradoxically amiable; his presence a shelter cutting the chilly current that had picked up around noon. Stained lips, of which you had forgotten about until the sticky residue imprinted boldly on his glove, aimed to ease his buzzing mind. Expecting a grumble for the lipstick mark, what you got in return was the soft gaze of dark brown eyes – a sign of taming raging waters. He didn’t seem to mind, in fact the window into his soul for once could be identified as just that – a window; crystal, without the dirtied stains of camouflage and trepidation.

Something had changed.

Before you could get another word in, it was announced the bride and groom were going to have their first dance. The crowd gathered around the newly wedded couple as the music suddenly switched. The speakers were loud as they played a waltz, the couple’s limbs intertwined and swaying to its dramatic pace. They twirled and swayed with the grace of swans tiptoeing and beguiling the creeping ocean on the golden sands. Even though you knew virtually nothing about them, and were convinced that in fact this whole invite was your mother’s scheme to pry, the sight was a beautiful one to behold. The epitome of love – reciprocal trust and utter surrender; it had you wondering where you’d gone wrong previously, and if such a thing was as formulaic as it seemed to be, or if they were freefalling into the abyss as much as everyone else was; blindfolded, but nonetheless with each other. Welded in each other’s hearts.

How long had you projected your yearning at the couple and vicariously lived through their magical moment? You couldn’t say, though it was only the sudden grip on your shoulder that had managed to break your fixed admiration. It was firm, but nowhere near the realm of rough, and it even contained a fraction of gentleness, an action that wordlessly said ‘are you okay?’

At the sudden presence, you looked over your shoulder to find J, his guarded eyes holding a knowledge which only deepened the crawling feeling of embarrassment. Blood rushed to your cheeks. As you rounded your gaze back to the couple, you quickly saw the crowd was beginning to join them, all dancing at their own pace as the music continued its intimate lull. J’s hand slid down your arm while you watched and returned to hold your hand. Content and about to lean into him, your sudden love struck daze pounced away when he started to walk, dragging you along with him.

“Hey– what are you doing?”

No response.

“Let me go!” You said, your tone coming out a lot angrier than you’d expected. You guessed this alerted him because even though you were mere meters away from the rest of the crowd he stopped to explain.

“I saw the way you were looking at them. You know, cupcake, you’re not hard to read,” he drawled.

You pursed your lips, looking away for a moment.

“So what? What are you doing?”

“What does it – ah – look like?”

He’d seemingly taken your lack of response as a positive and continued forward. He grinned once he had you in position and placed his palm on the small of your back, his thumb rubbing gentle circles. He then maneuvered his other hand to grab yours and stretched it forward. From his first few steps you knew immediately it was the Viennese Waltz. The fast tempoed dance was one you weren't all too familiar with, but you’d learned its slower English counterpart.

“I didn’t know you could dance,” you gasped, trying your best to conceal your astonishment. You didn’t want to seem rude, though he just didn’t seem like the person interested in such a thing. Nor have the time. You were certainly finding yourself more curious about the origin of such a talent, and all the other potential abilities that were sneakily tucked away.

“Well aren’t I just full of surprises.”

He dipped you slightly in time with the halt of the orchestra. He held you there for a moment before the tune resumed its boisterous charm, climbing steadily to its crescendo.

“Here’s to another,” he said, his smile widening. If you didn’t know him so well you would have believed the expression to be completely innocent and honeyed. Standing there intertwined with his limbs you knew that devilish gleam was anything but.

And, seconds later, this suspicion proved right.

Suddenly he lifted you, twirling you around in such a way that made you feel like you were the bride. You’d only seen such a thing in Disney movies and cheesy rom coms – to be cherished, to be loved and cared for in such a delicate way was a fantasy; a taste of nostalgia and a serenade to the hopeless romantic within.

“J, put me down! Put me down!” You felt yourself swallow when his hands tightly gripped your hips. For a moment the irritation you’d experienced all day from a full face of makeup and wandering had all been worth it.

His laughs slipped out, too; a direct contrast from his often irked facade, a musically heart-warming phenomenon which no instrument could emulate. The whole time you kept your eyes on each other and never once did they deter, focused on drinking in the beauty of each other. The cheers from the crowd you’d gathered fell upon both your deaf ears, transfixed by each other’s magic in your own closed off bubbles.

As you continued to dance, the act itself felt like flying. The crowd separated when you neared – that is, until everything stopped. Sharp and prompt.

Neither of you had much regard for the abrupt bump when it happened, there were people everywhere and mistakes occurred. It was no big deal. At least that’s what you told yourself until such a collision was followed by a violent shriek and a splash.

Loud gasps replaced the background noise of applause.

In a few frightening seconds your brain made the connection – linking who you’d just seen in the same area minutes before, inches from the ocean.

“Oops,” you squeaked, too scared to turn around. However, despite your better judgement you did just that.

The groom stood in shock, evidently unable to come to terms with the sight he was seeing. One moment his new wife was safe within his arms, dancing as if it was only two of them in the universe, the next she was below him, swimming with seaweed. Then, his form began to tremble, a telltale sign that what was to come was nowhere near the realms of good.

He turned around with searing red eyes, a wrinkled nose and bared teeth. The eyes of the bull met the petrified, and his stubby, squared and well-manicured finger pointed directly at you.

“You fucking bitch!” He roared.

You jumped, feeling yourself cling to J. His arm wrapped around you reassuringly and although you trusted him with your life, being confronted by a raging groom was still nonetheless intimidating. The groom who apparently cared more about telling you off than helping his wife, who was still floundering in the crashing waves, began his march over to you.

“Do you know who I am?” He continued, and you wondered if he was still aware there was a crowd around. J almost instantly stood in front of you and had to hunch further to scowl at your aggressor.

“What was that?” J grabbed the man in front of him and slipped the blade hidden in his sleeve between the groom’s lips, angling it against the crease of his mouth.

“Hmm? Why not try your luck, princess. Say it again.”

The groom froze, the flicker of fear evident even on your end, though he kept up his brutish facade.

“You’re both going to be 6 feet under when my dad’s through with you.”

“Aww… run along to daddy so he can fix all your problems,” you could hear the pout in your boyfriend’s voice, comfortable and in your eyes even elated, to spit out the toxins he’d been gathering from just being here all day.

“So you do know who I am–” “The second most spoiled kid of Gotham’s underbelly.”

“And yet, you’re still holding the knife.”

“Of course the first would be your brother though, hmm?” J continued, completely ignoring the man's statement.

The groom gritted his teeth.

“I bet it stings to not be the favourite. To not even have him here on your big day.”

“I’m going to fucking kill you,” The groom spat, bullseyeing J’s shoe. You saw red pooling at the corner of the man’s mouth, the mere act of expectorating on your boyfriend’s shoe more urgent than self-preservation.

Yeesh.

“Now that’s not very hygienic,” J growled, wrinkling his nose. His grip on the knife tightened and in one quick motion, the groom was screaming.

While you couldn’t see the infliction from where you were positioned, the blood dripping onto the sand was clear as crystal. The screams of those around you were piercing, their horror and disgust forcing you to cling tighter to your boyfriend.

“J, please! That’s enough, it’s okay!” You pulled on his blazer. Feeling the hundreds of widened eyes staring holes into your being was no longer a concern. What mattered most was him. Getting out of here.

With a quick glance to his right, J met you, then looked back at the groom.

He smacked his lips.

“Seems you are lucky,” he purred, the shimmer in his eye reflecting nothing of the warmth he concealed so carefully – nothing of the warmth of when your eyes met. Instead, it was serrated and reflected jeopardy. He possessed the force of a hurricane. A gravity; the way in which he commanded the direction of things and uprooted the fortitude of the righteous, the sure, a mothernatured finesse.

He looked back at you again before shifting his hold on the man, fisting his wrinkled and bloodied shirt, then barked, “why don’t you go join your blushing bride?”

With the element of surprise, J raised his knee and shot it between the man’s legs, the man falling down almost as fast as the foreign presence made an impact. You could have sworn someone at the corner of your eye jolted, most likely fearing the worst while others let out shrieks. Fear of the unknown, the seduction of one’s imagination and its ability to fill in blanks was the most manipulatable aspect of consciousness. Rather than bleeding out and rocking lifeless against the cradling waves like so many had thought, the groom sat there, soaking in the shame of defeat and crimson. He hollered while his new wife crawled to his side.

“Tell your precious father I said ‘hi.’”

All eyes now turned to you both as you speedily departed, J dragging you along once more. The colony of sand in your shoe that had begun its formation hours ago was well in its breeding season now, the leathery insole most likely buried along with the newly wed’s marriage. Before you fully exited the cooperative crowd, forever to forget the merging faces of horror, two familiar ones caught your eye.

Hah!

“Some date, huh?” You smiled, staring at your mother straight on. The way her face twisted up in a myriad of emotions – surprise, disgust, embarrassment – was something you’d never forget. You were sure you destroyed her little snobbish social circle by the mere association. Pride swelled in your chest, a childish victory that didn’t seem so childish when you later reflected on your relationship with her.

When the two of you escaped back to the van successfully, there was a moment of contemplation.

“I – heh – think that went well!” J laughed to himself, rounding his body to face you, “you think your parents like me?”

“I think I should be asking the same to myself,” you said.

“Cheer up buttercup, at least your parents know you’re not dying alone anymore.”

“To be honest, after that shitshow they’d probably prefer it,” a sigh left your lips and you began to bite them, unconscious of the small action until the taste of metal blew up your taste buds.

“Eh. Who needs parents, anyway?”

You began to fiddle with your hands, suddenly finding them incredibly interesting. From the lack of interruptions you concluded he knew you were miles away, trapped in the wilderness of your own thoughts.

“So I’m guessing you only came because you found out whose wedding it was.”

It took a lot to break the silence, and the air suddenly shifted to a heaviness. You weren’t sure you were the only one tensing.

J clicked his tongue but didn’t answer.

“It’s okay… I think I’ve had my fill of weddings for a while, anyway. And parents. And honestly, maybe people,” you answered for him, despite the swirl of hurt brewing in your gut.

He breathed out his amusement. The lack of transience had you swallowing, frantic to keep the growing weight on your chest from expanding – from consuming your entire being with emptiness. You didn’t know how long you had until the stampede made its mark, the thunderous thuds of terror already echoing in the distance.

Those were only thoughts you could entertain alone, sunken in the decaying paradise of your bed.

Silence prevailed again.

Dazed and lost of direction, you remained fixated on the lines of your palms.

“The husband had a temper. You know, I thought they were so lovely at first.”

“That’s what they want you to believe. Their little golden castles sparkle in the sun and it’s only until the rain pours that you can see them for what they really are. Wet cardboard. Looks can be deceiving.”

“They certainly can be,” you looked up at him, smiling softly.

Even with the friction, you slowly reached up to cup his face. This time on his end, there was no fear or hesitation. Instead, just an unspoken mutual trust between two wandering souls. You looked down at his lips while your thumbs stroked the hidden lines of his scars. The gentle caresses wore down the makeup until finally they were visible again.

The marks of a survivor – beautiful and bold.

“Wait,” he said, the word simple and yet so labyrinthine. He reared back and looked at his hands while your own moved to rest on your knees. Curled into fists, his slowly unclamped like a blooming flower. What they revealed had your heart thumping, dancing its rhythm in your throat. You felt your eyes widen and the sadness immediately leave you, as if all its colour had been drained from you. You felt like a 1930’s cartoon, so shaken to the core that all you could see was greyscale.

“It wasn’t the only reason,” he whispered, the commanding presence absent.

He cleared his throat and finally looked up at you, “in fact, these were my only reason.”

“You son of a bitch,” you bit your tongue in awe at the binding pieces of metal in his hands. They twinkled in the holiday rays, beckoning, unuttering whispers of fabrication. Was the weight of those dual bands as heavy as his heart? As heavy as the solemn expression as he processed your jabbing words?

“I-I know it’s not much but–” he stuttered, and was promptly interjected.

“Oh! No, no, no! I didn’t mean–”

You both smiled. Yours wide and brazen, his small and seraphic.

“My J. Always starting fights, always getting what he wants,” you took the ring from his finger and darted to your left hand, slipping it on its rightful throne, “how can I resist?”

You kissed him mellowed and full of saccharine and he sighed, his reciprocation just as tender despite the usual dash of coarseness.

“Mine,” he murmured, resting his forehead against yours. He fluttered his eyes shut and his breathing began to steady.

“Mine,” you whispered.

In all that was and all that ever could be, never would you have believed such a moment possible. Magical and idiosyncratic, you wouldn’t have wanted it any other way. Nothing big and extravagant in front of many eyes. Just the two of you, inside what you now considered the best moment of your life. What many described as a lock and chain, a prison for the rest of one’s life, you would describe as the only thing you had ever wanted. As much as before, everything felt complete.

Supernal.

You don’t know how long you stayed like that, breathing in unison, basking in each other. All you knew was that it was all too soon when you hit the road again, starting the long journey back to Gotham. After a lot of the same scenery – trees, cars, rocks, more cars and occasional bodies of water – your eyes had become leaden. Resting became impossible to oppose and before long your eyes gave into its stinging demand.

Somewhere within the haze of half-consciousness, a mysterious material was draped over you. It was silken on the inside, your arms softly grazing it occasionally, and linen on the outside, your chin brushing over it when passing uneven roads. Subtle ripples of cologne drifted from the fabric as you finally fell prey to sleep’s siren song.

“Sleep well, sweetpea,” lulled a sweet voice.

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babybluebex · 4 years ago

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Hi, i was wondering if you could write something where Sebastian Stan is a dad to a little boy and the one who always reads to him before bed, but one night Seb is very tired after shooting, and reader is the one putting him to bed, but the little one refuses to go to sleep until Seb reads to him.

Sorry for my bad Engish, it's not my first languaje. Also, if you don't want to write this I totally understand. 🥰

no! i love the idea!! i tweaked it a bit to fit an idea i was already writing, so i hope you liked what i did with it :) and ur english is perfect my love

goodnight, sleep tight [sebastian stan x reader]

➽ pairing: dad!sebastian stan x fem!reader( y/n) ➽ word count: 2.2k ➽ summary: see above! ➽ warnings: mentions of postpartum depression, angst ➽ a/n: the image of seb in bucky’s costume, getting a little baby to fall asleep makes me go uwu

“Are you guys coming to set today?” Sebastian asked, pressing a kiss to my head.

“I’ll see if Andy wants to,” I mumbled with a yawn. My husband’s call time was six AM, which was so much earlier than I ever wanted to be awake, so he usually woke me up with a goodbye kiss. “I think we can manage it, though.”

“Ah, well,” Sebastian shrugged. “He’s barely a year old. I think he’ll like it.”

“But he’s also your son,” I countered.

“What does that mean?” Sebastian asked. Even in the dark of the room, I could see the happy glint in his blue eyes.

“He’s stubborn,” I said. “Won’t do anything if he doesn’t want to.”

“That’s not a ‘me’ thing,” Sebastian told me. “That’s a Romanian thing. We’re stubborn people.”

“Regardless,” I sighed. “I think he might be scared of the costume. The mask and the arm and all; it might be a bit much.”

“He’ll be able to tell it’s me,” Sebastian said. “Kids are like dogs, they can recognize people by smell. Right?”

“Maybe your smell,” I chuckled, my throat dry from the night of sleep. “Mr. Bucket-Of-KY-Jelly.”

“That was uncalled for,” Sebastian chuckled. He leaned over the bed, bracing his left hand next to me head, and I turned to fully look at him. “I smell great.”

“When you shower, you do,” I said, scrunching my nose, and Sebastian laughed deep in his chest. He leaned down and brushed his lips against mine, giving me the gentlest of kisses. Sebastian wasn’t usually a gentle creature-- his kisses usually left me with bruised and puffy lips or marks littering my neck and breasts-- but, in the morning, he was so soft and sweet.

“We’ll continue this later,” Sebastian said. His long hair fell into his face, and I tenderly pushed it behind his ear. Adjusting to the new everything that Seb required for this film was an experience; the long hair, the stubble, and the weight training was grueling for all three of us, especially little Andrei. He missed his daddy dearly, but Sebastian always made up for lost time with nightly tummy-time and stories. Andrei James Stan had loved his dad since before he was born-- the little bastard always kicked up a storm when Sebastian rubbed my belly or talked to me-- and, when he was gone filming something for a long time, Andy got a little upset and overly clingy. Call it separation anxiety or just plain missing his daddy, but Sebastian always made it up to Andy with a special Daddy/Andy night (which also gave me the opportunity to be by myself for a while).

“I hope not too much later,” I whispered, pulling him down to kiss me again. “I miss you, Seb.”

“I know, baby,” Sebastian whispered as he pressed his forehead to mine. “I miss you too. Maybe we can get a babysitter or something on Sunday.”

“Great idea,” I said. “Now, you gotta go or you’ll be late.”

“Ugh,” Sebastian groaned.

“Go!” I giggled. “My big super-soldier. You gotta show everyone what you’re made of.”

Just as I spoke, from across the room, Andy made a squealing noise in his crib. The trailer we were living in while Sebastian shot Winter Soldier was a bit small, but it worked perfectly. “Oh, really?” Sebastian said, turning his head to look at Andy. “And what do you think I’m made of, mister?”

Sebastian moved to his crib as I turned on the lamp, and I watched Sebastian, all muscles and beard and long hair, reach into the crib and pull his infant son into his arms. Andy was born premature, so he was still pretty small, and it made my heart melt. His fluffy hair was in-between a blond and a brown, sorta like how Sebastian’s hair was when he was little, and he had the most beautiful blue eyes. “Really?” Sebastian playfully grimaced, nuzzling his nose against Andy’s. “I think you’re made of yogurt and farts, young man.”

“Seb!” I snorted. “Don’t say that to him!”

“He is, though!” Sebastian laughed, Andy’s little fist tightening around a lock of his hair. “I don’t see you denying it.”

“Don’t say our son’s made of farts,” I protested, getting out of bed. “He’s made of wonderful things, like love and kindness--”

“And yogurt,” Sebastian added.

“And yogurt,” I acquiesced. Andy did eat a lot of yogurt. “Speaking of, is the little monster hungry? Is that why you’re up so early?”

Andy nodded, patting his tummy, and Sebastian gave him to me. “Have a good day today, babies,” Sebastian told me, kissing my forehead, then brushing Andy’s hair back and kissing his soft head. “Just text me when you’re coming by.”

“Sure thing.”

“This is Sebastian’s baby?”

Scarlet held Andy in a tender embrace, gazing at him with surprise. She was looking at him with a look of wonderment, like she couldn’t believe that Sebastian of all people could be capable of producing another human being. Nobody on the cast had properly met Andy yet, hence why Andy and I visiting set was such a big deal. “Looks just like him,” she added.

“Acts like him too,” I chuckled. “Stubborn as hell and eats everything in sight.”

“Damn, this really is his kid,” Scarlet laughed, and Andy thumped his head down onto her shoulder. “He’s so sweet.”

Andy smiled at Scarlet and gave a happy squeal, and Scarlet turned to face me. “Who’s that?” She asked in a gentle voice, and Andy’s smile turned to me.

“Mama!” He exclaimed, reaching for me, and Scarlet and I laughed.

“Smart as hell,” Scarlet added.

“That comes from me,” I chuckled. Andy took a fistful of my shirt and started to chew on the fabric, but I was used to it. He was teething and chewed on everything; most of my shirts were a little frayed from him.

“Mean,” said Sebastian from behind me, and I turned and gave a gasp of surprise. I hadn’t ever seen him in full costume before, and it was a shock at first. A leather vest and tight dark jeans, tactical gear everywhere, and a dark mask obscuring the bottom half of his face. And, of course, covering his left arm, a cast-like structure that looked like silver metal with a red star on his shoulder. The arm was covered in little orange dots-- I’m assuming to assist in mo-cap during editing-- and he wore a leather glove on his left hand.

“Jesus God,” I laughed. “Scared the hell outta me. You look good, babes.”

“I know,” Sebastian told me, and I knew that he was smirking at me under the mask. “You look beautiful too.”

“Not really,” I said. “I’m not even wearing makeup.”

“Still beautiful,” he said, and he reached up and tugged the mask off. He leaned down and, cradling my cheek in his gloved hand, gently kissed my lips. “And the little rascal?”

“Mm,” I hummed, breaking the kiss. “He’s sleepy. Getting cranky and all.”

“Has he eaten?”

“Just did,” I told him. “Before you ask, yes, it was yogurt. But I also gave him some of those blueberry puffy crackers.”

“Did you save any for me?” Sebastian asked, his eyebrows raising.

“In my pocket,” I replied. Sebastian and I had quickly discovered that certain baby foods were delicious, especially the fruit-flavored puffy crackers that Andy favored, and I always ended up bringing some with me wherever I went.

“I know that you’re not eating baby food,” Scarlet laughed as Sebastian reached into my pocket and extracted the plastic bag of star-shaped crackers.

“They’re good as hell,” Sebastian said, popping a handful into his mouth. “Want one?”

“I’ll pass,” Scarlet laughed.

“Ask Mackie, I’m sure he’ll tell you the same,” Sebastian said. Then, he turned his attention back to me. “I could read him a quick story to get him down, if you want.”

I shrugged. “If you really want to,” I said.

“Alright, stinker,” Sebastian said, exchanging the crackers for Andy. “Did you bring a book?”

“Shit, no,” I mumbled.

“Shit!”

“Oh, c’mon, man,” I sighed as Scarlet laughed. I frequently forgot that Andy was at the stage where he was repeating things that he heard, and usually Sebastian and I were good about not cussing, because Andy would repeat it for the rest of time. “Don’t expose me like this.”

“I can come up with a story,” Sebastian said through stifled laughter. “Let’s find a place to get comfy, huh, mister? A nice chair, maybe? I bet Uncle Chris has a really nice chair we can settle in…”

As he walked away, I felt a presence behind me. I had briefly met Chris at the First Avenger premiere a few years ago, when Sebastian and I weren’t even properly dating yet, but Sebastian and I had eloped, hence no wedding to see him at. “Hey, Evans,” I said and gave him a quick fist bump.

“Where’re they going?” Chris asked, munching at an orange.

“To steal your chair in the shade,” I said. “Andy’s getting sleepy and only sleeps when Seb reads him a story.”

“Cute,” Chris said. “Ya know, Sebastian never shuts up about the two of you.”

“Really?” I asked. “Like, what does he say?”

“Just little stories,” Chris said. “Something you said, or something Andy did. Or just the quick little ‘we had this for dinner’ or ‘we watched this movie last night’. He adores you two.”

“That’s nice,” I said softly. “I always worry if he’s getting sick of having these two lives. It must be a lot for him.”

“I can’t read minds,” Chris said. “But I don’t think he could ever get sick of you.”

I nodded slowly. “I was diagnosed with postpartum depression after Andy was born,” I started quietly. “I was so anxious that I wasn’t sleeping, I couldn’t stop crying, I… I even thought about packing a bag and leaving and not coming back. It was so fucking hard, and I thought for sure that Sebastian would ask for a divorce or something. I guess I’m still a little worried about that. But that’s… That’s really helpful, Chris. Thanks.”

I tried to contain my tears, but Chris must have seen through my crumbling facade, because he wrapped me in a tight hug. “You’re so strong, Y/N,” he whispered. “Know that I’m proud of you, and Scar, and Mackie, and all of us, but especially Sebastian. Man, he fucking loves you so much. There’s nothing that you could do that would make him hate you or want to divorce you. I don’t know much about your relationship, but I know that.”

I was glad I wasn’t wearing makeup, because I knew that it would be smeared across my cheeks by now. It was one thing to hear it from Sebastian, but from an outsider like Chris, it meant the world. “Thanks,” I whispered. “That means so fucking much.”

“And, hey, I kinda know how it goes with a baby,” Chris began. “My sisters have kids, and I’ve played babysitter plenty of times. And I’d say I’m pretty good at it. No complaints so far. So, if you ever need a babysitter to get a break for a night, I’d love to help.”

“That would be so nice,” I sighed into his shoulder. “Not to be TMI…” I paused to let him stop me, but his hand comfortingly ran up my back. “It’s been a while since it was just… Me and Seb, ya know what I mean?”

“I do,” Chris said. “You have my number.”

I nodded and detached myself from Chris, and I chuckled as I wiped my face dry. “I’m gonna go find my boys,” I said. “Thanks for that, man.”

“Anytime, Mrs. Stan,” Chris said with a smile.

It wasn’t hard to find Sebastian and Andrei. They were settled in a canvas chair under a tarp shade, with Andy’s little head resting on his shoulder. He seemed like he was already out like a light. “... So Steve is like ‘Bucky?’ and Bucky looks at his friend and he says ‘Who the hell is Bucky?’, which is not that good. Because Bucky should know who Steve is, right?”

“Are you telling him spoilers for the movie?” I asked, putting my hand on Sebastian’s shoulder.

“It’s the only story I could come up with on the spot,” Sebastian said. “But he seems to like it… Or not like it. Does it mean he thinks it’s boring if he falls asleep during it?”

“I think it means that he loves you,” I said. “And he finds comfort in you, even when you look like that.”

“Look like what?” Sebastian asked. When I didn’t answer and only gave him a playful smile, he said, “When I look like what, Y/N Stan?”

“So different than usual,” I offered with a shrug, and Sebastian rolled his eyes.

“You’ll pay for that,” he told me, patting Andy’s back gently. “What were you talking to Chris about?”

“He was just telling me some nice things,” I said simply. “About how you’re always talking about me and Andy. And he said that he’d babysit whenever we need him to.”

“Hmm,” Sebastian hummed softly. “Sounds promising. I really miss you, baby.”

“I miss you too,” I told him. “Now, my love, you have work. Be good and kill Chris for me.”

“Anything for you, my baby.”

#sebastian stan #sebstan #seabass #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x y./n #sebastian stan fanfiction #sebastian stan fluff #sebastian stan angst #sebastian stan x reader fluff #sebastian stan x reader angst

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tanoraqui · 4 years ago

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Umm sorry could I ask for more spirit pouch wwx? Pls?

*pokes plot bunny* *lapine remains inert* Uh, no, apparently not.

You CAN have scraps of an emotionally resonant idea that I’m also never going to write, though: what if Wen Ning escaped Jin captivity sometime during those 13 years, maybe just after they put the nails in? Idk, something’s gotta prompt it. Maybe they put hte nails in and try to take him out for a murderous test drive. But he escapes...and is promptly found and captured by Jiang Cheng and YunmengJiang?

not very much of YunmengJiang. this is going to be very secret, when we lock the Ghost General in the basement seal the Ghost General in Lotus Pier’s deepest, darkest dungeon

(it’s not very deep, though maybe it’s dark. Each of the like 3 max cells IS floodable - very deliberately, at the will of whoever has the magical keys to the talisman seal connecting the cells to the lake, which has been used for torture in the past. Equally of-course, this is no concern for a dead man.)

if there’s nails in his head, Jiang Cheng takes them out - maybe not immediately, but pretty damn soon, because how else can he yell at him properly? How else can he demand answers as to what the hell Wei Wuxian thought he was doing, in those last few months? How else can he wander down with a bottle of wine at 3am one night (multiple nights) because it’s this or nightmares, and shout at the dead man chained to the wall, because it’s not the dead man he wants but it’s the closest he has?

sometimes, in hte early days, when he’s being deliberate and cold rather than visibly slightly unhinged by loss, he brings Chenqing as well, and it’s just a bit of a threat because...the Tiger Seal couldn’t command Wen Ning to do anything he didn’t want it to, or rather, it could command him, but he didn’t have to listen nor obey. Even with the nails in his head, the Tiger Seal had no part in the making of him as he is now - Wei Wuxian made damn sure of that - so there were no nasty little puppet strings built in for it to yank.

Chenqing, however...the Ghost Flute Chenqing, carved from the resentment-rich bamboo of the Burial Mounds, isn’t as strong as the Tiger Seal, but it is a cultivation tool in its own right, and it very much did play a part in the making of Wen Ning as he is now. If anything save Wei Wuxian himself could direct the Ghost General against his will, it would be that dizi.

Jiang Cheng never plays it, though. Twirls it, maybe. Threatens to break it in half over his knee. Hits Wen Ning with it in a fit of temper

Wen Ning is definitely capable of breaking those chains and whatever other suppression/binding/etc talismans they put on him. But he also...doesn’t really have anywhere else to go. Everyone he loves is dead. And at least Jiang Wanyin is only using him for weird stupid therapy, instead of cutting him open and trying to replicate the Yiling Patriarch’s work.

That said, this goes on for like a month maximum before Wen Ning snaps and tells Jiang Cheng about the golden core transfer

"Ohhhh my god oh my god he didn't choose us over you! He gave you everything he could POSSIBLY give and then tried to do ONE decent human thing instead of, I don't know, sit by and watch innocent people who'd helped you be killed!"

Jiang Cheng, skipping with skill over the back half of that: Like hell he gave me everything! He--

Wen Ning, ruthlessly: Whose golden core is in your chest?

JC, already understanding because all the puzzle pieces are THERE, but he doesn't have to put them together if he doesn't want to: I- mine! Baoshan Sanren--

WN: My sister, Wen Qing, the greatest healer in QishanWen, cut Wei Wuxian's golden core out of him and put it in you. He had to be awake through the whole thing or it wouldn't work. You didn't. I held him down while he screamed.

JC: He--

WN: There was only a 50% chance that he'd survive, but he insisted. For you. And YunmengJiang. Everything you've done since then has been with his help

(and at another time, those words would land differently - and they land a little bit that way, because Jiang Cheng has Neuroses. But...maybe the difference isn't that it's framed a little differently, or that instead of a confrontation after a long day, it's 3am and Jiang Cheng woke up muffling a scream for his brother. Maybe the difference is just that Wei Wuxian isn't here to be furious at, so Jiang Cheng gets caught up in the very first step of finding him again: relief so bone-deep it aches, and guilt so gut-wrenching that he nearly collapses from the pain)

WN: So please shut the fuck up and get over yourself, and leave me alone

Jiang Cheng does come back the next night, or more likely the next day, and yell at him some more about it. (This is good - he may not have Wei Wuxian to yell at, but he has someone, which means he won’t just descend into an inescapable pit of self-loathing over this, which I AM convinced would happen otherwise if JC found out about the golden core while WWX was dead.)

There’s a lot of shouting. Only by the grace of decent dungeon soundproofing and several competent YunmengJiang disciples does the Ghost General in the basement remain secret

Jin Ling, for instance, is extra super not allowed to know, for everyone’s emotional health

Jin Guangyao also never finds out, because I don’t think him knowing would matter - he’d probably leave it unless he needed tomake political hay of it, and he wouldn’t before canon kicks back into gear - and it’s much funnier if he’s just anxious about the missing Ghost General for the better part of a decade

Wen Ning ends up staying in the basement, though possibly not in (completely useless) chains - depends on how petty...they both are, really. But he stays because, again: where else is there for him to go? He’s not hunted, here. He’s not causing anyone trouble. And if Wei Wuxian could see this situation, all their family of blood and hardship dead and gone except this one, Wen Ning is sure that Wei Wuxian would ask him with his final breath to watch over Lotus Pier and the people he, Wei Wuxian, never stopped counting as family. So at least that’s something that feels...almost useful.

Anyway, and then one day Wei Wuxian claps his hands and calls for corpses, and Wen Ning hears and very politely breaks the door off his cell, maybe even resets it on its hinges, and sneaks out. He doesn’t leave a note, even though he and Jiang Cheng are, like...very begrudging friends/companions in mourning by now. He’ll figure it out.

Edit: continued.

#mdzs #wen ning #jiang cheng #ficlet #my fic #the untamed #random anon asks #Anonymous

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taxicabinmemphis · 4 years ago

Note

"It’s really scary for me when you do things like this." either prinxiety or analogical w/Virgil saying that about the other side talking badly about themself/being really destructive (like toward themself) and saying things like 'no one cares about me' or 'thomas doesn't need me' or other similar things. :) I'm really on a roll with the angst :)

hi so choosing which ship took a while sorry...it’s pretty much pre-romantic but I guess you could interpret it as platonic if you really wanted to (but actually maybe not who knows idk) (edit: someone said in tags that it can be interpreted as platonic. sweet.)

(tw swearing, arguing (no yelling but virgil gets pretty upset))

Virgil could only watch with fear and sadness as Logan sunk out.

The conversation between the group was nowhere near over, but Logan took that second as his time to leave.

In truth, the logical side thought that he should have left earlier. Or, maybe he should’ve never attended the meeting. It’s not like they’d listen anyway.

But Virgil was now more anxious than usual. He was scared, even. This discussion no longer had the embodiment of Thomas’ voice of reason. Logan wasn’t even on Virgil’s side in this discussion (at least, not completely), but he still didn’t want Logan to leave. In Virgil’s past experiences, Logan was usually right. And, him leaving normally made things worse.

Virgil couldn’t help but wonder if Logan’s opinion was the one they should have gone with. Obviously, his was safer, but Logan’s....

The anxious side impatiently waited for the end of the conversation.

When it did eventually end, he immediately sunk out with the explanation of needing to take a nap.

He appeared outside Logan’s door, knocking as soon as it came into view. He had been waiting to be able to speak to the logical side for a while at this point and was done with patience.

Virgil heard someone close a book behind the door. Nothing else, though, so Virgil knocked again.

“Open up, Pocket Protector,” he said impatiently.

“I do not wish to be in the presence of others at this time,” Logan spoke softly.

Virgil rolled his eyes despite his heart cooing at the delicacy of Logan’s voice. “Too bad. As long as you're not like, indecent or anything, I’m coming in.”

Virgil didn’t hear a response to his statement so he swung the door open. His eyes scanned the room until they fell on Logan, humbly sitting at his desk with a book in his lap. His arms rested on top of the paperback novel.

Virgil’s eyes narrowed on the smart side and he made his way over to the well-used desk. He leaned against it, crossing his arms across his chest and giving Logan a stern look.

“Why’d you leave?” Virgil asked.

Logan didn’t meet Virgil’s gaze and didn’t answer immediately.

“I haven’t got all day, nerd,” Virgil said. “It may be refreshing to see your face but I still need a damn good explanation for your departure.”

Logan was surprised by the first half of his final statement, but decided to speak. “You know why.”

“Do I?”

“No one in there cares about me or what I say. They don’t listen-”

“Hey-” Virgil was nowhere near surprised by this statement, but that didn’t mean it didn’t concern him.

“And it’s not like Thomas will do what I suggest anyway.”

“Logan...”

Logan met his gaze, a hard glare in his eyes. Virgil nearly flinched at the intensity.

“Don’t say it isn’t true, because you know it is.”

“It isn’t.”

Logan rolled his eyes.

“It isn’t!” Virgil repeated defiantly. “Everyone in that living room today cares about you.”

“No they don’t,” Logan disagreed, crossing his arms like Virgil. “They rarely acknowledged I said anything, and when they did, they insulted me. If they do care, they don’t show it well.”

Virgil nodded. Logan had a point. “We show it terribly, you’re right. But that doesn’t mean we don’t care about you or want you around.”

“No one noticed my departure.”

“I literally tried to stop you.”

“You’re not everyone, V.”

Virgil couldn’t help the small smile tug at his face. Logan had never called him that before. He liked it very much. It went well with Virgil calling Logan��‘L’.

“I-I’m sorry, the nic-”

“I know I’m not,” Virgil interrupted, continuing the conversation so Logan couldn’t denounce the nickname or swear to never use it again. “But if I care for you, you can’t claim no one cares for you.”

“That may be true, however-”

“I know we’re really bad at showing our care and love for you-”

“Wait, who said anything about love-?”

“I did. As I was saying, we need to get better at showing our care and love for you. I need to get better. I’m sorry for that.”

“Virgil...”

“I know I’ve been mean in the past—threatening, even. I apologize. That time where I threatened you when Thomas first met Remus? I was scared. I was really scared about what might happen if you were to continue. I shouldn’t have said that. I’m sorry.”

Logan stared at Virgil for a long second, surprised and in thought. Virgil was the anxious side—a dark side as well. His actions followed in accordance with his function.

“I accept your apology, Virgil.”

Logan figured that Virgil wasn’t as actively focused on not letting Logan speak as often as the other sides. At least, he was making an effort to do better. Accepting his apology made sense to Logan at that moment.

“Also, I’m sorry if I made it seem like I don’t care about what you say, or that I don’t want to listen. You made some very good points today; you always do. What you say often interests me. I don’t mean to make it seem otherwise.”

Logan nodded. “It’s alright, Virgil.”

“No, it’s not.” Virgil disagreed. “It’s gotten so bad that you don’t think we love you.”

Logan shrugged. “You don’t. It’s okay. Thomas doesn’t need me, anyway. He doesn’t listen to me and he’s not dead yet so that’s clear. I...” Logan trailed off, looking back into Virgil’s eyes. He paused for a minute, frowning. “Why did you come here?”

The question threw Virgil off. “What?”

“Why did you come here?” Logan repeated. “I listened in; you said you were going to nap but instead you came here. No one else did. You could have napped. It was just a normal conversation. Why did you pursue this?”

Virgil stated at him for a long second, thinking of a response. “I don’t like it when you leave. It heightens my anxiety.”

“I apologize that that happens, but I can assure you it makes no difference whether I’m there or not. No one cares. It doesn’t matte-”

“See, Logan? Stop,” Virgil interrupted. “It’s really scary for me when you do things like this.”

“Like what?”

“Like leaving!” Virgil exclaimed. “Like saying you don’t matter when you’re Logic; something so crucial to every human being. Like saying we don’t care, that we don’t love you! Why do you think I came here? You fucking scare me, L! That kind of thinking can convince you to do the most terrible things that I shudder to even think about. I don’t want those lies to take hold of you!”

Logan had a pained look in his eye, torn between telling Virgil to dismiss his fears or apologize for causing them.

“I apologize for scaring you, but you shouldn’t care. Thomas doesn’t-”

“I am done with that excuse!” Virgil said strictly, standing straighter. “You don’t get to use it anymore. I don’t care whether Thomas needs you or not. Why? ‘Cause he does. Whether you or he knows it. But it doesn’t matter to me. You know what does matter to me?”

“What?”

“You. So listen here, Teach,” Virgil said sternly, leaning over him. “The others care about you.”

“No, they-”

“And even if they don’t, I do.” He took a deep breath. “Because of that, you can’t say that no one here cares for you or loves you. You’d have to kill me first, and even then, you have the others.”

“But they-”

“All that matters right now is that I want you to stay in our conversations. I want you to know that you matter, goddammit. You not being there scares me. I value your input and I savor your presence. I want you there. I care about you.”

Logan shook his head. “You shouldn’t.”

“Yes I should!” Virgil pulled Logan to his feet by the tie.

He stared into Logan’s eyes intensely, eyes narrowing and body hunching just a little to get closer to Logan’s face.

“But even if it was true that I shouldn’t, I would,” he continued. “I will get it through your thick, determined skull that you are cared for. And, I will listen to you. I will come to your room every night and you’re gonna tell me about some cool thing you learned, hmm?”

Logan hummed in return, but was still somewhat scared by the angry side in front of him.

“Because I am done panicking over your absences! Okay?”

Logan nodded.

“Now turn on the TV and fucking cuddle me, you loveable bitch.”

Logan could only chuckle at the fact that the words Virgil said varied immensely from his tone. He did as instructed, sitting criss-cross on the bed as he scrolled through Netflix.

He smiled at Virgil as the anxious side trudged over to the bed, looking like he was calming himself down. He sat on the bed, leaning back against the pillows lying against the headboard. He pulled the logical side back from where he was sitting and against his chest. Logan almost squeaked.

“I gotta prove I love you somehow, Pocket Protector,” Virgil grumbled, tightening his hold on the now blushing side.

Virgil put his head on Logan’s shoulder as the logical side decided what to watch.

#analogical #ts fanfic #logan #virgil #prompt #ask #romantic analogical #sanders sides #somehow-i-got-an-account #logan sanders #virgil sanders #swearing tw #cursing #self deprecation #logan angst #kill writes

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pinky-the-elephant-room · 5 years ago

Text

Day by Day, Month by Month

AN: This is a server prompt for MHA & readers server which I own along with @liliesoftherain . It’s a soulmate AU with fem reader x mirio

Warning: Explicit sex with Mirio Togata, angst, with a bit of one sided enemies to lovers

Read the rest of the prompts here.

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

June

Y/N gritted her teeth as Hado cheerfully loudly greeted Amajiki at 8 AM. All mornings were terrible for her, but Mondays were the worst. The fact that Hado had no consideration for other people’s nerves on an early morning, really, really made Y/N dislike her even more than she already does. And she already disliked her enough to ignore all of Hado’s many attempts to befriend Y/N. Especially when Hado figured that Y/N and her quirk were the same. Which is not true, Y/N’s quirk worked on the fact she could absorb small wavelengths of energy like incandescent bulbs, LEDs, or artificial lights that didn’t generate violet waves. Y/N then used that energy to make whatever she desired from beams to moving at lightspeeds using her absorbed energy. Nothing at all like Hado’s whatever waves.

Now there was a good reason to hate Hado and that reason was the fact she was friends with her mortal enemy AKA Togata Mirio. He probably didn’t even know she existed, but Y/N hated him since second year. First year, Y/N did the impossible with her difficult to control quirk as she absorbed the LED lights in the stadium to blast her way to 4th place in the Sport’s festival. 2nd year she didn’t even make it to the top 10 because Togata had knocked her out in the 1st round of the last tournament. Ever since then Togata Mirio had exploded onto the scene of U.A., he was praised universally, and all the 3rd years worshipped him like he was a god. Y/N’s grinding of her teeth became even louder as she thought of the blonde idiot. Yes, Y/N didn’t just dislike him, oh no she hated him with every fiber of her being. She might be called a monster for it, but what she wouldn’t do for a chance to wallop his idiotic face. Maybe even strangle him for a minute or two after getting a few hits in.

Y/N watched as the slouched, nervous boy with pointed ear greeted Hado back quietly and sat in his seat. See, she didn’t make a point to be rude to Amajiki. What would be the point of doing that when he was basically a scared rabbit? Even she wasn’t that much of a monster to destroy his badly needed confidence, so she mostly just ignored him.

Finally, the sensei had come in and all the student quieted down for the morning lessons. Y/N stood up and bowed as the class president called out the greetings and they all sat down when the teacher let them. Most of the morning passed by quickly as Y/N actually did pay attention since she had a couple of tests coming up, otherwise she would be sending texts to her best friend in 3B all throughout classes. The bell rang indicating it was time for lunch, sending a quick text to her best friend to save her a seat as Y/N needed to use the restroom. She took her time leisurely to wash her hands and straightened her school uniform and made sure her hair wasn’t mussed. She even reapplied her nude pink lipstick, before taking a quick selfie to send to her friend. Y/N walked out as she used the Line app to edit some cute stickers and added on the hashtag “felt cute”. She didn’t notice until it was too late as she crashed into a wall of muscles. Y/N bounced off their chest, and her phone scattered to the floor. Quickly grabbing the device, she made sure the screen wasn’t broken. A huge sigh left her, and she turned around to give that idiot a piece of her mind.

“You moron, can’t you watc-“ Y/N cut herself as she realized she looked into the eyes of Togota Mirio.

Her whole view disconnected and reconnected as both of their minds melded. Her feelings were no longer just hers, but rather a whole of synergy of emotions as both of their desires, wants, and even fears entangled. Why was she so angry most of the time? So afraid. So anxious. She was no longer alone because he was her-

Those thoughts disconnected as the meld ended, their connection broken. Y/N stepped back in horror. Oh no. Togata was her soulmate. She just found the one person who was supposedly the perfect match for her, and it turned out to the person she hated the most in U.A.

‘Fuck my life.’ Y/N thought. She quickly turned around, ignoring his very loud protests, sprinted all the way back to the 3rd year hallway. She sent a quick text to her friend saying she was feeling sick and was at Recovery girl’s office when in reality, she was currently hiding out in the girl’s restroom. Sitting on top of a covered toilet, she frantically searched the web for a way to get rid of one’s soulmate.

Y/N knew since she hit puberty the science behind soulmates. Basically, a body’s way of finding your perfect mate that will the create the most optimal offspring. When two individuals’ eyes meet, their minds would mesh and basically their souls would connect. Y/N had watched a health video in her junior high year as two soulmates would stand there make eye contact for 5 mins with large creepy smiles and hazy eyes. Basically, looking like two drugged out idiots before regaining their senses. She remembered thinking how dumb the two looked whereas everyone else cooed at how romantic it was.

As for their souls’ connecting, it was another sugarcoated way to say the two soulmates would share emotions. Even now despite being hopefully far away from Togata, she could feel his frantic worry causing her chest to burn. Y/N tried to sooth the pain with one hand and the other one scrolling through articles. Anything that could help get rid of the moron that was her soulmate. She didn’t know how fast the lunch period passed because she was reading articles when she got jerked out of trance by the bell.

Y/N aggravatedly sighed. All the damn articles were no help, they just kept spewing the gospel of soulmates and how 80% of all soulmates would succeed in creating a healthy, loving relationship. She scowled, the only thing she would create with blonde Astro boy will be a lawsuit after she kneed him in the family jewels. As the bell rang once more, Y/N got up and kicked the toilet out of pure frustration before sulking back to her classroom. She made it to her seat and slumped over her desk. Y/N rested her eyes for a few minutes as she could hear her fellow classmates make it back from lunch. She jerked out of her nap when she heard the familiar voices of Hado and Amajiki. Keeping a close eye on them without being obvious, she noticed how they didn’t acknowledgeable her more than normal.

Letting a sigh of relief, she relaxed knowing that Togata hadn’t let his friends know what happened in the hallway earlier. The rest of the classes continued as normal except for the occasional bursts of happiness and the need to laugh startling her throughout the day. Y/N scoffed, of course he would be happy whereas he continued to be her source of frustration. The last of the classes were soon over so she headed home on her own. Usually Y/N would walk with her best friend, but she had an appointment with the support department to fix her hero costume.

Y/N walked leisurely down the sidewalk, enjoying the warm sunny day when a voice called underneath her.

“Hey-“ A familiar blonde face appeared in the sidewalk. Y/N screamed and bunched her skirt together so he couldn’t peak at her underwear.

“Pervert! What the hell do you think you’re doing?” she screamed as she stomped at the face.

“N-no wait! It’s your soulmate, Togata Mirio!” the face yelled desperately as he dodged her stomps.

Y/N paused in her stomps. “Well, that’s even worse than a pervert!” She resumed her stomps before giving up entirely and running away.

The next morning, Y/N used a baseball cap to keep her face from being visible and hopefully go unnoticed until she arrived in class. She didn’t need a repeat of yesterday. Arriving in class, she took off her the cap and settled in her seat. The morning lectures continued as she halfheartedly took notes and completed her assignments. Everything was going well until Togata walked in during lunch break.

Y/N jerked in her seat and turned away using her long hair as a curtain to hopefully escape his eyes.

She could hear Hado yelled out Togata’s name as the two friends conversed.

“Oh, this time I’m not here to hang out. I’m looking for Y/N. She is in this class, right?” She heard him ask.

Y/N looked up when she heard her name and saw Hado looking in her direction in confusion. She also saw Togata follow Hado and turn in her direction. Her eyes shifted to Togata, noticing the way his face lit up as he waved her over.

Y/N groaned. There was no way she could get out of this. She got up reluctantly and approached Togata, the entire class erupting in whispers and some of the girls were either giggling or shooting her glares. Y/N couldn’t help the flush, she never did like being the center of attention. Togota led her out of the classroom before pulling her aside in a nearby hallway.

“Look, I’m not sure why you are calling me out,” she began.

“I wanted to introduce myself.” Togata held out a hand for her to shake. “I’m Togata Mirio.”

Y/N stared at his hand in disbelief. “Of course, I know who you are,” she spat out.

“You do? I thought you ran away yesterday because you didn’t know who I was,” Mirio sheepishly said.

“No, I know. I ran away because I want nothing to do with you!”

“N-nothing? But I’m your soulmate, we should get to kno-“she interrupted before he could finish.

“No, No! And No! I wouldn’t want to get to know you if you were the last guy on earth. So, you better leave me alone!” she yelled. Seeing the shocked face of Mirio, Y/N felt satisfied that he had gotten the message and marched away to enjoy the rest of her lunch period. Still, she couldn’t help feeling a bit guilty when she felt the hurt coursing through Togata.

Meanwhile, Mirio shoved the hurt away and looked on in determination at the challenge that was walking away. Next time he wouldn’t let her walk away so easily, he promised as his eyes burned and sparkled.

July

Y/N drew a makeshift figure of Togata’s face on her notebook before she viciously started stabbing the drawing. ��Stupid Togata, why can’t he get that he’s not wanted’ she thought. She threw a glare at the pretty arrangement of flowers on her desk. Every morning there was a new bouquet waiting for her on the desk. It attracted a lot of unwanted attention from her fellow classmates. At first, she threw all of them away in the garbage in a fury. But, over time the arrangements became more complicated and more beautiful than the last and her heart couldn’t bear the thought of throwing them away. So, she took it upon herself to donate it to Recovery girl’s office. She knew the older women appreciated them. Y/N saved the scattered chocolates in the bouquet for herself before dropping off the peony flowers at the Pro Hero’s clinic.

As Y/N walked to the lunchroom, she was interrupted when Togata came through the walls and in front of her.

“Y/N! Do you want to eat with me today? I brought a bento," Togata asked.

She looked down on her own bento and wondered how he knew that she was going to bring her own lunch today.

“Are you a psycho? How many times do I have to say no to you before you get it through your head?”

“I’ll keep asking until you say yes. I won’t ever take no for answer,” he cheerfully replied.

Y/N felt the fury inside of her build up and her face became tomato red. “Time to die, Togata.” She stepped towards him before tripping on her foot and her entire bento fell on the ground. She watched in shock at the hard work that had gone wasted and she turned towards Togata and sent him a death glare. Togata fearing for his life, slipped his bento into her hands before bolting out of the hallway. He activated his quirk and vanished through the walls.

August

Y/N panted as sweat dripped down her face. She’s never felt so tired in her life yet so energized. The roar of the crowd helping her forget the aches and pains of the fight. Togata wasn’t even winded as he stood across from her. This was the revenge she wanted. The second round of the battle tournament of the Sports Festival.

“Come on, Togata. Give me everything you have. Otherwise, I swear I won’t ever forgive you. I’ve given everything to be here. So, extend that courtesy to me,” Y/N said.

She knew he wasn’t taking her seriously. Though, she landed a few hits and gave 100% percentage to her energy attacks. She couldn’t say the same for him. His punches and his overall speed were too slow. She knew he was capable of being faster than what he was displaying right now. Her words affected him, as his face lost the pensive look and a look of concentration overcame it.

She remembered the humiliating defeat by him in second year. A blonde blur, a scream of “Poweeeerrr!” and Y/N was knocked out of the ring. She wasn’t even able to display her growth or how much she improved from the 1st year.

However, this year Y/N showcased everything she learned in U.A. and she showed everyone in Japan that Y/N was ready to be a Pro Hero. When she would lose to Mirio and she knew she was going to, Y/N had no regrets.

Y/N raised her hands to gather the energy from the LED lights in the arena as they blew out one by one overwhelmed by her quirk. She felt the energy rush through her body and readied herself for a charge at Mirio. This time she would lose on her own terms.

September

Y/N sat nervously on Mirio’s dorm room bed and watched as he scrambled around his room to get her birthday gift. She had gone home last weekend to spend her birthday with her family, so this was the only time Mirio had to give it to her. His relationship with her was still pensive. Y/N didn’t scream at him to leave her alone and she stopped calling him Togata. Most of all that bitterness dissolved after the Sports Festival, there was no reason to keep him at arm’s length anymore. Still, there was a degree of unsureness, Mirio being too afraid to set her off again and she too unexperienced on how to properly convey her feelings.

Mirio came back with a small gift bag that he held out for her. Y/N took and peered into it to see an assortment of chocolate.

“Remember how I would send you those bouquets and you never kept them except for the chocolate in it? I thought this time I would give you something you would want to keep.”

Y/N couldn’t help but chuckle. Mirio smiled goofily in return, satisfied that he had made her happy. She wanted to do something in return to show him how happy she was. Y/N leaned forward to kiss him on his cheeks, while at the same time Mirio purposely turned his face so she could kiss his lips instead.

The touch of his soft lips quickly made Y/N break contact. She turned her blushing face away and was about to quickly run out of his room in embarrassment, when Mirio grabbed her and mashed his face into hers. Their teeth clanged together, and it was soon clear neither had any idea on how to kiss.

Y/N pushed Mirio away and clutched her lips and teeth.

“Mirio! Why did you do that?!” She could feel embarrassment surging within him and a small ounce of shame for hurting her. Feeling bad for her overreaction, Y/N grabbed his hands and pulled him close.

“I-I think we should try again and maybe a little bit slower. Like how they do on TV dramas,” she said as she coaxed him into trying again.

Mirio gave her a small peck, withdrawing to see Y/N’s reaction. She nodded in encouragement, excited he continued to slowly give her kisses that caused her to chase him and eagerly respond to his ministrations. He caressed her cheeks and snaked his hand down to her waist to pull her close. Licking her lips and asking for permission to enter, Mirio entangled his tongue with hers as it sensuously made contact and cajoled her to respond. Following Mirio’s lead she responded back to each lick, feeling her body get hotter and hotter. Wanting to get closer to his body, she sat on top him and wrapped her legs around his waist. They continued to slowly kiss; Y/N liked this attempt immensely compared to their first one. Mirio wanting to feel her, grabbed Y/N’s hand and placed it on his member. Y/N curiously touched it, wondering what she was touching that was so hard and warm. She broke contact from his lips and looked down at her hand. ‘OH MY GOD. I’M Touching A MAN’s PENIS!’ she thought hysterically. She poked it a couple times, finding it rock solid and admiring the length of it. Her tiny hands couldn’t even fit most of it. Mirio startled her out of thoughts when he placed his hands onto hers and started moving them along with him.

“Like this, Y/N, ok?”

Y/N short-circuited realizing what Mirio was asking from her. ‘Oh god, we are doing this now? Are we going to have sex!! That thing is going to fit inside of me? I’m going to die!!’ her thoughts spiraled and made Y/N panic. She quickly disentangled herself from Mirio, ignoring his grunt and his confused call of her name. Y/N grabbed her gift, not forgetting to say a quick thank you to Mirio before hightailing it out of his room and back to the sanctity of her own dorm.

December

Y/N waited anxiously outside in the cold, windy afternoon. Yesterday’s snowfall had already covered the entirety of the park, most kids were playing in the snow. Either making snowman or trying to hit their friends with snowballs. She huffed out a few breaths, watching as her warm exhales became smoke. She overheard footsteps and saw Mirio heading her way. Y/N sighed, relieved that he had showed up. Ever since a month ago Mirio had lost his quirk and Sir Nighteye, he had been avoiding her. She wasn’t the best person when it came to comfort, so she figured he needed time on his own. But as weeks went by without any sight of his blond hair or blue eyes, she couldn’t help but worry. So, Y/N had tracked him down and called him out during lunchtime just like he did so many months ago and made him promise to meet at the local park so they could talk things out.

She stood up to greet him, but he just motioned for her to sit back down and took a seat besides her on the park bench.

“Hey, Mirio. How have you been? We haven’t talked in a while,” Y/N cautiously began.

“Well, you are my soulmate. You probably know better than me how I’ve been this past month,” Mirio said quietly.

It was true, she felt his sorrow and loss like an aching pain in her chest. Y/N knew he went around school acting happy go lucky, but she knew he couldn’t fool her or himself.

“That’s true and its probably why I was so worried-“ Y/N began.

Mirio interrupted, “Worried? Why? You must be happy that I lost my quirk. No more competition!” He let out a weak chuckle.

Y/N couldn’t help the hurt that rose in her despite it being a fair assessment. She had treated him terribly, the fact he was lashing out at her now just showed how much patience Mirio really had. She swallowed the lump that had arose from her needing to cry because this wasn’t about her or her feelings now.

She turned to him, watching as his face twisted with guilt and he opened his mouth. Y/N cut him off.

“I know. You can throw everything at me, Mirio. I will take it if that’s what it takes for you to feel better. I don’t know what to do or what to say to make you feel like your old self again. I’m not good at any of this. But I don’t want you to feel like you have to be alone. Don’t shut me out,” she pleaded.

Y/N saw the way the shine returned to his dull eyes and the soft blush that made its way to his face. He was looking at her like he had never seen her before. She could feel her own cheeks heat up due to the unnerving way he was looking at her. Mirio leaned forward as if to kiss her when Y/N put a hand to his chest to stop him and turned her face away.

“We can’t we’re in a park. There’s too many people,” she whispered.

Mirio let out a boyish giggle. “Right, sorry.”

She toyed with her fingers as a thought occurred to her. “Do you wanna go to my house instead? It’s nearby, we can warm up and get some hot chocolate.”

Mirio at the thought of seeing the place where Y/N had grown up shyly agreed. They both got up and walked for 15 minutes before coming to a modest house. She unlocked the outdoor gate and let them both in. They went up the steps before Y/N unlocked the door.

“No one’s home it’s just me,” she said as she turned the house’s light on and started to prepare some hot chocolate for them both.

Mirio made himself home in the living room as he snooped around and looked at the various pictures of a younger Y/N. She came back with 2 hot chocolates. Mirio thanked her and steadily drank the hot chocolate. Y/N sat next to him and observed him as she finished hers. Though, her earlier words lifted his mood, she could tell that her distraction was only temporary.

“Mirio,” she began as he looked up at her, “I wish I could do more for you. I feel everything, all your pain and I can’t imagine what it’s like for you. I wish I can take it away even just for a while.”

Mirio looked at her seriously and put his drink on coffee table. He grabbed Y/N’s drink and put that on the table as well. She just looked at him in confusion as she hadn’t finished yet. Mirio grabbed her by the waist and pulled her close. Y/N blushed at their proximity as her breasts were squished against his firm chest.

“I know what you can do for me, Y/N..,” he trailed off as he leaned in close to kiss her. She closed her eyes as his soft lips connected. She could taste the remnants of the hot chocolate on his lips as she desperately responded back. She clutched him tightly as she couldn’t remember the last time he held and kissed her. Y/N didn’t think it was possible to miss someone so much who wasn’t her immediate family let alone someone she used to hate. Her fingers dug into his soft hair as she tightened her hold and pulled. Mirio let out a groan in response and rolled his hips into hers. He disengaged from her and quickly kissed her cheeks, forehead, and nose in succession.

Mirio panted. “Y/N, please I need you.” She blushed as she knew what he was asking from her. “I-I’ve never…,” she trailed off.

“Neither have I, we’ll go slow. I promise I won’t hurt you,” he said. Y/N nodded, giving him consent. Mirio pushed back one of the curls on her face and brought her close enough for him to kiss. Giving a nip to her lips, he explored the inside of her mouth, still tasting the chocolate. She moaned into the kiss and messed with the hoody he was wearing, trying to get to the smooth skin underneath. He tried to help her take off while still kissing her hard. He broke away in frustration when the hoody wouldn’t budge.

“Wait maybe we should take this to my room,” she suggested. He liked the idea at least they would know beforehand if they were about to get interrupted.

Mirio tried to get Y/N to let him carry her bridal style up the stairs like in the movies, but she adamantly refused. She led them to a very pink and feminine room unlike the fierce Y/N he had gotten to know. Y/N stood in awkward silence not knowing what to do when they had arrived in the room. Mirio taking the lead, took off his hoody and his jeans. He immediately went over to Y/N to help her take off her clothes. She tried to protest but it got muffled by a kiss.

Hoisting Y/N in his arms, he dropped her delicately onto her bed. It was medium size just enough room for both. Mirio couldn’t help himself as he let his hands roam the entirety of her soft skin. Her heaving breasts caught his attention as she looked at him with dilated eyes. He tugged the cups of the bra just a tiny bit for her cleavage to spill over, He bit and sucked them, leaving red marks all over. Y/N let out a whimper as he continued his ministration on the other breast. Mirio moved her legs aside, allowing his body to settle in nicely between her thighs. Slipping his fingers into her panties, he immaturely explored her.

“Like this,” she said as she showed him what she liked best. Wanting to see all of her, he slipped off her panties and snapped off her bra with ease, tossing them somewhere in the room. The two teens continued to explore every inch of their soulmate. From the beginning they were connected by their minds and hearts, now they were crossing the final threshold of their bodies. Preparing Y/N had paid off as he inspected his fingers that were wet with her essence. Curious he tasted the wetness and discovered he liked the tangy flavor. He wanted to lick up all of it, to savor the taste, but that was something he wanted to try out in the future. Mirio shimmied out of his boxers as he lined up his member with her center. He felt her tense, so he whispered reassurances as he stroked her face.

Y/N felt his member slip a few times before he finally got it into her. The initial pinch startled her before she forced herself to breath and relax. Mirio didn’t lie, he went slow prioritizing her needs over his own. Y/N hardly felt a pinch when he broke through her membrane and filled her up to the brim. She raked her short nails down his back, causing him to buck into her. She gasped at the sudden movement.

“Y/N, don’t do that, love,” he panted into her neck. Y/N flushed at the impromptu nickname Mirio had bestowed upon her.

He waited a few minutes before trying out short, shallow thrusts to see if she flinched in pain and seeing her writhe and moan gave him the signal to move.

Mirio tried out different rhythms to see what she liked first, matching his thrusts to her reactions. When he lifted up her hips a bit and hit a particular spot that had her gasping and tightening her hold on the bedsheets, he hit that spot over and over in a frenzy. It wasn’t long before Y/N became a babbling mess as she came all over his penetrating member.

SLAM

Mirio lifted his head up in confusion when he heard the slam of a door and muffled talking.

“Y/N! Is that you? Okasan and Otousan are home. Come downstairs we brought food!” Y/N’s mother called out.

Y/N looked at Mirio in panic. She tried to push him off so she could get dressed and go downstairs to greet her parents.

Instead he held her hips tight as he slammed into her over and over, muffling his moans by biting onto her shoulder.

“Mirio! Ahh, what are you doing? We’ll get caught,” she said.

Letting her shoulder go, he whispered back, “just a little more I’m so close.”

When she didn’t say anything else, Mirio took as a sign to keep going so he chased his own pleasure. It wasn’t too long before he pulled out and came in the junction of her thighs.

Luckily for the teens, they were both able to get dressed and downstairs in time for Y/N to introduce Mirio as her soulmate. Her parents were delighted to meet him, and Y/N flushed with happiness knowing that her parents approved of him. Though, she didn’t notice how her mother kept sending them suspicious glances when she noticed the bite mark on Y/N’s neck.

March

Mirio’s tousan watched in absolute happiness as his son graduated from U.A. Who knew his son would one day graduate from the most prestigious hero school in Japan?

He looked around for his tall, blonde son as many graduates filled in from the auditorium outside in the sun to find their parents.

He finally found his wayward son and was about to call out to him when he noticed his son holding and teasing a girl. She seemed very frustrated, gesturing wildly and pointing at him in anger. Mirio just laughed and hugged her. What was even more astonishing was that Mirio kissed her forehead and the girl blushed and yelled at him some more before she stomped away. So that was his soulmate.

He remembered how his son came home one day in jubilation and explained everything in one breath. Though, Mirio seem to be disheartened when he explained how his soulmate didn’t seem to like him. Mirio’s tousan just laughed in glee and Mirio watched him in confusion.

He went on to explain how Mirio’s okasan hated him at first glance and threw a glass of water at him when she discovered her soulmate. He remembered how each day he would do everything to win her heart over and he encouraged Mirio to do the same. He smiled now knowing that Mirio had won his soulmate over just like he did his.

#mirio togata #bnha togata #bnha prompts #bnha imagines #bnha smut #bnha soulmate au #mirio x reader #mirio x oc #mirio x you #togata x reader #mha togata #bnha x reader #bnha x y/n #bnha x you #bnha discord #server prompts

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kissjane · 4 years ago

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fanfiction writer appreciation: skamverse edition

writing can sometimes take a lot of work out of us but it’s also such a beautiful thing and sometimes, it doesn’t get the recognition that it deserves. so, if you see this and you aren’t tagged, i want you to know that you are an amazing writer OR if you are a reader and aren’t tagged, but would like to spread the love to the writer’s YOU enjoy, do it! DO IT! spread all the love. i know all the writers of all fandoms (not even limited to the skam fandom) would love to hear from those who read their fics.

Tagged by @sandersyasmina, thanks for the tag! Team 22 forever!

if you’re a writer:

a fic that you’re really proud of:

I at least kinda like all fics I have posted, they wouldn’t be posted otherwise. It’s hard to pick just one... I am rather proud that I managed to write the 50 prompts for Cliché prompts (Elu edition) / Cliché prompts (Davenzi edition). But I am also rather proud of the whole Theatre AU, for example.

a fic that you were nervous to post:

I probably was most nervous for my first fic! And sometimes, for some fics which are a bit different than my usual, I still feel a flutter of nerves. Like recently I was a bit anxious to post Phoenix. Or some of the more angsty fics I posted, like Fall.

a fic you wished got more hits/kudos/comments:

Ok, this is going to sound weird, but... I honestly would write just for myself. That is not to see I don’t scream internally about every like and reblog and comment and kudo, though, because I definitely do! But each and every one is precious, and I have no ambition to ‘be popular’, whatever that means.

one of your favorite tropes to write:

ALL OF THEM!!! Just as long as it has a happy end. :)

another ship that you don’t write but you’d like to write:

If I really wanted to, I probably would.

one of your abandoned wip you never wrote but wish you did:

I don’t abandon WIPs. I just add more. 😊

No, but seriously, I don’t start posting stuff until it’s finished, so you never have to worry about that with me.

another writer you would love to collaborate with:

Damn, this reminds me I need to get cracking on the collab I have going...

if you’re a reader:

a fic (or more) that you love to reread:

So yeah, I am sorry to keep beating you over the head with the same fics...

I read way too little, my ‘Marked for later’ list is like 30 pages long...

The thing is, when I write, reading is very distracting. And then when I have some ‘empty time’ (on the bus, or while donating blood, or right before bed) I don’t usually want to get into an 80k slow burn, though I love those, but when I only have ten or twenty minutes I like to finish something.

So I miss out on a lot - and the Marked for Later list only grows.

But you can’t go wrong with Velocity by @dorkdumplings or for want of gold by @lallemanting or a rose, by any other name by @flying-elliska (or any other of their works, really!). Or try The Boy and the Star by @awake-dreamer18 , the book i read was in your eyes by @kritiquer or anything by @evakuality .

tag an author you always love reading:

See above!

recommend a story to your followers:

See above!

tag an author you discovered recently:

If I read not nearly enough, I’m even worse about connecting stories to writers... It took me ages to discover that a bunch of my fave fics were written by the same author! But I mentioned them above, so.

spread the love!

tag someone who inspires you to write:

Nat. Mostly because she nags until I obey.

tag someone who you’ve admired forever:

See above!

tag your writing support and loves!

My friends Nat and Mtea @dorkdumplings and Stela @awake-dreamer18 and Ju @lololil and Sophia @petitspaceling and all my anons sending me asks and headcanons and love!

#tagged!#life as a writer

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laceyeb · 3 years ago

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Because I’m determined to be excited about this season of DWTS (and I genuinely am!), I’m going to try to post much more about this season than I did last season and start sharing my opinions now! Starting with the cast thus far of course, with my excitement ranking out of 10 because I do what I want.

Jojo Siwa and Jenna - 1000/10

As soon as I heard about Jojo being with a female pro, I started manifesting Jenna with all my heart and I am sooooo excited!!!! I’m not saying that ANY female pro on this show is even remotely homophobic in any way shape or form because I do NOT believe any of them are. HOWEVER... If I had to pick one female pro who I feel like would be most “onboard,” it would be Jenna. (Or Sharna, but I’d prefer Jojo with Jenna just because Jenna is younger.) If this sentiment/how I expressed it comes off problematic, please let me know because that is absolutely not what I intended and I hope you understand what I’m trying to say. Anyways... I don’t know if I’m anxious, excited, terrified, curious, overjoyed, etc. etc. etc. Perhaps all at once. I can’t wait to see how this goes and how it is received. I’ve already had a small rant about the target demographic of this show, but I’m choosing to be optimistic. I would definitely prefer that they don’t spend the ENTIRE season talking about the ground-breakingness. First episode, yes. Very important, very groundbreaking, etc. Then I’d like this to just be normalized. I don’t want them to be treated any different than any other couple. I just want them to be like everyone else. I don’t expect them to change the entire world, but this is still very very important and I am very very excited. And anxious. (Also not my anxiety acting up when I sent my mom the rumored list so far and her response was “I’m disgusted.” She’s apparently “disgusted” by the fact that there are people on the cast she’s never heard of. As if we haven’t been doing this for 30 seasons now.)

Sunisa Lee and Sasha - 8/10

I did not pay any attention to gymnastics during the Olympics (aside from the general news I stumbled upon on the internets) because all my waking hours were focused on soccer, but she’ll obviously be great. I would not say that Sasha is my favorite pro, but they’ll likely be a great match. I need to find some interviews of her or something to get a sense of her personality. I’m excited though because I’m sure they’ll be fun to watch.

Kenya Moore and Brandon - 2.5/10

I’ve never heard of her, so I have no opinion. I do have a soft spot for Brandon though. Is she like well known? Popular? Likable? Dancingly inclined?

Amanda Kloots and Alan - 6.5/10

You know I love Alan with my whole heart, so that automatically gives them some points. I recognize her name and that’s about all I’ve got for her. In the little bit I see (I’m just using the Kristyn Burtt article for this), she seems very excited to be there. Dream come true and all that. I will always give anyone a chance if they come in with such a good attitude.

Olivia Jade and Val - 5/10

Right in the middle 5/10 for this because I just don’t know what to expect. Like are they going to edit her packages sympathetically or actually sympathetic AND convincing? Do I feel any excitement for her to be in the spotlight like this? Not really. But she might surprise me. Val can really do no wrong, though, at the risk of starting an uprising, I’ve kinda lost interest in him as a pro as of late. No real reason. Just feel like there’s other pros I care more about/am more invested in.

Matt James and Lindsay - 5.5/10

I’m very excited to have Lindsay back, so let’s start there! It feels like it’s been about 27 years since we’ve seen her, despite the fact that she posts about 4 hours of IG stories a day and I happily watch every second. I don’t know a whole lot about Matt aside from the fact that he’s a Bachelor guy. I don’t think I’m exactly thrilled about what little I’ve seen and I don’t know what he’s like personality-wise. But at least Lindsay is back and seems happy so far.

Iman Shumpert and Daniella - 2/10

I’ve never heard of this guy and could not care less about basketball, so I don’t even have a reason to get excited. I’ve got nothing against Daniella at all, we just don’t know her that well yet. Is he well-known/likable/have a likelihood of dancing skills?

Jimmie Allen and Emma - 9/10

I don’t know a great deal about him personality-wise either, but I’m already excited! I love Emma, I love a country singer on DWTS, I love getting to see someone on the show who I already know. Very excited all around! Can he dance? Who knows! But I look forward to finding out! He’s got a few great songs that I absolutely adore and I need to make a playlist! I think they are going to make a good pair and I’m glad he’s with a pro I really like (aka not Cheryl I guess 🤷🏻‍♀️).

Brian and Sharna - 11/10

Sharna. Sharna’s man. Sharna in love. Sharna happy. What else could I possibly ask for?! I wondered if they would partner them together or not. In a non-pandemic world, maybe not. What with married pros living apart from each other for the season, they would have to too if they weren’t partnered together. Not that they deserve any special treatment. But if they don’t HAVE to be apart, why have them be apart you know? It’s going to be really entertaining to watch Sharna post about her “partner” for the next two weeks when we all know it’s him. Believe it or not, I have not followed their relationship really super close and they also don’t post an excessive amount together (which I have no problem with because people are entitled to their privacy and what not), so I’m excited to get to see so much more of them together! If Sharna’s happy, I’m happy. Can he dance do we think?!

Christine Chiu and Pasha - 1/10

Uninterested. No idea who she is and like with Daniella, I just don’t know Pasha enough to get that excited. Again: Is she likable/popular/dance-inclined? Beats me. 🤷🏻‍♀️

Mel C. And Gleb - 4/10

I like Gleb more than most do, but I’m not obsessed by any means. (I mean, he’s not Sharna.) Nothing against any Spice Girls, but I’m fairly neutral on the whole. She will likely be pretty good and probably fairly popular. I look forward to seeing how she does, but I’m pretty much take it or leave it with them. It’s entirely possible she could be the dark horse I fall in love with by like week 3 and then decide she’s my favorite of the season.

Melora Hardin and Artem - 10/10

I’m VERY excited. I’ve already posted about her a bit, but oh boy I’m excited! I’ve seen exactly ZERO episodes of The Office, but I know her and LOVE her from The Bold Type aka one of my most important Gay Awakenings™️. (There were several...) I love me some Artem and he will be a great match with her as well. She’s definitely going to be one of the older pros this season (though I think she’s in her 50s which is decidedly not OLD old), but I know she has Broadway experience. I would love a week 1 foxtrot to put her solidly in a 3 way tie for third place with 4 7s and then coming in week 2 with like a samba that she absolutely nails (8,7,7,8) to prove she really can do it all. (It’s possible I’ve been watching this show for too damn long.)

Mike Mizanin - 1.5/10

I will not call him “The Miz.” I do not know this man and I do not care. Put him with Cheryl and send them home week 1. Ok wait. I’ll be nice. I definitely know NOTHING about him, but maybe he’s a fun and pleasant person. We’ll see. And if he is, I might entertain the possibility of calling him “The Miz.” (Whenever they have anyone from like WWE, UFC, boxing, or anything like that, I just do not care because I don’t know anything about them. But Paige VanZant was my actual Gay Awakening™️, so I try to keep an open mind.)

#dwts30 #will update when the last ones are announced!

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arofili · 4 years ago

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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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queen-of-my-goofball-army · 4 years ago

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"Skating is a lot more fun when you do it together with someone else." (Reki, Sk8 The Infinity).

I sort of want to do characters that I kin and relate to for photo edits (there's only three and this is one of the three). The other two I've probably mentioned in the past but I really love these three characters so I'm most likely going to do that next for fun!

Through watching Sk8 The Infinity, I was mostly expecting to just enjoy the show for the fun of it. What I wasn't expecting was to kin Reki as hard as I did.

I'm somebody who feels that all their friends are way more talented than I am. I have so many amazing friends that can do amazing things and then there's me who sometimes feels so inadequate and left in the dust by those around me. I cover these feelings up with a smile, with a joke that doesn't quite feel as kosher sometimes to make other people around me laugh so that they won't worry about me. I get easily anxious when I realize just how far behind I am compared to other people and then I pull back from my friends so that they won't have to feel burdened by my problems. It's a really nasty habit that I have never seen really portrayed accurately in media.

That was, at least, until I saw Reki in Sk8 The Infinity. He is constantly comparing himself to those around him, especially Langa. He feels inadequate and not as good as his found family that he made for himself. I have felt this way so much over the course of the last year. I don't feel worthy of all the friends that I've made or all these amazing people that surround me. It's hard for me to talk about these things because I've conditioned myself so hard that talking about the sad things is bad but Reki has helped me so much in terms of this side of myself. The side that lacks a little bit too much self love and self worth.

In a lot of ways, Reki is the person that I try to be as a mask. I mask his enthusiasm when on the inside I'm terrified that people will notice that I'm not as happy as I make myself out to be on my best day. Sometimes my happiness is genuine! A lot of the time it is depending on who I'm with. But I'm also able to fein happiness for those around me so that they won't need to worry about me. It's not a healthy coping mechanism relating to fictional characters and using them as a crutch to help me get over my personal issues.

Reki is sunshine personified, but I feel like in some ways that hits a little bit too close to home. Even the person that is the most sunshine has to have little falls of rain every now and then. And his rain is like mine, it's a thunderstorm of emotions that you don't understand why you're feeling this way and the only thing that you want is for it to STOP. You want to be happy for your friends because damn it your friends are all so talented (I can think of a handful of my uber talented friends that I feel unworthy of having @alldisneytangledfanlover who taught me the proper way to make edits, @oopsiesuni my best friend who got me into Sk8 The Infinity and is also probably one of the most incredible artists that I've ever met in my entire life, @saihahass one of the most amazing people in the entire world and another amazing artist, @i-want-a-donut the personification of sweetness who deserves an award for the kindest person ever. If I named everybody that has helped me out during this last year we would be here all day. I can't forget probably the kindest man in the entire cosmos @littlebatinthenight. Without him I'd probably be face down in a ditch right about now. He helped me fight my way out of a really toxic friendship and supports me through everything.) I appreciate all of these people so, so much and I have come a long way in letting them know how much I admire each and every one of them.

As a whole, Reki is somebody that I related to on a whole different level from the other characters I kin. While sometimes they suffer from self worth and self appreciation Reki was the first one who had a crash very similar to how I crash. When I get sad I usually close myself off from the rest of the world and it takes somebody else to drag me out of it.

In a way, I am so grateful for Reki because of how they handled his depression and his anxiety. It's that feeling of not wanting to cheer from the sidelines but wanting to stand beside the person that you care about but feeling so wholly inadequate and not special. I have a lot of progress that I want to make to feel better about myself but I finally feel like I'm able to feel better about the way that I treat myself thanks to Reki.

#sk8 the infinity #sk8 reki #characters i kin #favorite characters #accurate portrayal of anxiety

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banashee · 4 years ago

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i"I have way too many stories already planned" I said. “I can’t write in multiple fandoms at once, it will throw me off” I said. “OK so I’ll just get this out of my system real quick” I said. “Well shit, I’ve gotten more ideas now that I’ve started…” I said, determinded to face it - I have a problem. Just a small one… Who am I kidding. Send help.

Also, this is the first time I’ve written for this fandom. I’ve loved and enjoyed TMA for a while now, not just the pod but also fanworks. And now I’m joining in on the fun and you folks will have to deal with it :D ♥

This story got inspired by a conversation on Reddit with Swiftysmoon. Thank you very much for the inspo! This one is for you :)

edit. sorry about the missing ReadMore cut, Tumblr is programmed like a pile of garbage and removed it after I edited a typo...I’ve added it back in now.

please mind the tags and warnings

Into the Void

Truth be told, Jon never planned on this to happen. Of course not - it is ridiculous and more than a little embarrassing, but he can’t help himself.

See, the thing is, Jon is a restless, anxious person in general. He’ll hide away in his office for hours, typing away or recording statements in solitude, only interrupted when someone actually wants something from him. That, or when Martin brings him yet another cup of tea, checking if he’s still alive or starved to death on his desk.

No kidding - Martin had told him this, once, and although he’d been half-joking at the time, the underlying message had been very clear.

‘Please take care of yourself, you worry me.’ - it had been oddly sweet, and Jon still has no idea how to even react to this kindness.

But the thing is - Jon has nervous habits. While his mind is wandering and he is buried neck-deep in his work, he tends to fiddle. Mostly with pens, or anything else he can reach on his desk. That would be fine - no one notices it, unless they stand right next to him. But Jon had almost choked on the pen he’d been chewing on, lost in thoughts while reading his notes, omn more than one occasion. Mostly thanks to Tim bursting into the room like the whirlwind he is.

For one, Tim Stoker just doesn’t knock. Ever. He enters a room as loud and cheerful as he does anything else, and it can be a bit unnerving. Still, he somehow manages to be a professional and be really good at his job. That and the fact that there is ‘Chaos’ written all over him makes for an odd combination sometimes, but they’re all somewhat used to this.

So, when Tim suddenly sticks his head into the room with a cheerfully casual

“Hey, Boss!”

Jon startles and nearly stabs himself in the throat with a pen while he scrambles to make it look like he didn’t chew on it the entire time. He needs to preserve some sort of professionalism around here, even though he feels a little bit lost sometimes.

He glares halfheartedly, trying to keep whatever is left of his composure in place. Tim shoots him a bright smile with finger guns, then he rattles off the information that Jon had asked him for not long ago.

Thankful that he doesn’t have to explain himself, Jon launches onto it.

As time goes on, things around the institute get more and more weird. One thing adds to the other, and suddenly, they’re at war against worms all over the place. They spend their days at the institute armed with fire extinguishers and in Martin’s case, a corkscrew. Martin even lives there now, which adds a whole different level to it all.

Really, it is not surprising that they rarely ever get any outside visitors down in the archives. They have a bit of a reputation for being weird, and truth be told, Jon can’t find any fault in the people who assume that. If he wasn’t involved - if he didn’t know what lurks out there, in the shadows, he’d have thought the same.

Pushing his own dismissive, sceptic act is getting harder and harder these days, but it doesn’t stop Jon from trying.

Even after Jane Prentiss’ attack, Jon tries to keep up that act. It’s clearly faltering now, though, which may or may not be partially due to the fact that he confessed to Martin that yes, he does believe and he is terrified. It’s been an awkward conversation, to say the least, and not just because Jon pretty much asked if Martin was a ghost and despite Martin stabbing him with the corkscrew. To be fair, he’d apologized profusely for that, and while Jon is not happy about it, he is thankful for his attempt to get the damn worms out of him. Just thinking about it still makes him shudder, makes him lay awake at night.

On the plus side, their team in the archives has grown much closer to one another - it eases the anxiety and paranoia, just a bit.

Jon finds himself busy, not to say, utterly distracted. Time flies, and he takes even less care of himself than he did before. He practically lives off tea, and whatever food is offered where Martin, Tim and Sasha drag him along to.

Jon acts prickly and annoyed as always, but in reality, he appreciates their efforts. Lord knows, he isn’t sure he deserves this kindness, but he still makes an effort. These three people are all he’s got, after all. They’re the only group of allies who have any sort of idea what is really going on in the archives, and that alone is enough to have him lower his walls just a bit.

One day, Jon keeps blowing an annoying, grey-streaked strand of his otherwise dark hair out of his face. He didn’t have the time or energy to get a haircut lately - there are much more pressing matters to take care of. But his hair is currently at the awkward in-between length that he hated years ago, when he decided to grow it out. He’d kept it long, up until shortly before his promotion to head archivist. Only then he parted with the shoulder length ponytail in an attempt to be perceived as more professional.

It doesn’t feel right - never did. And as much as he hates the annoying strands falling in his face, it makes him feel like he is back on the way to himself. Or at least as much as he can these days.

Especially in the face of, well, everything else, it is a small comfort. Right now though, Jon is annoyed - he takes a pen from his desk, and sticks it behind his ear to hold back the constantly falling piece of hair - it works.

Jon only notices the pen again when he is about to go to bed that night - he huffs, places it onto the small desk in his bedroom and then crawls under the covers. Once he is in bed, Jon is waiting for the insomnia and the nightmares to keep him awake, despite his best attempts to fall asleep.

He is long used to both, but the last few months have been significantly more stressful.

The next day, Jon is exhausted. He barely makes it into the kitchen for some coffee, then he drives to the institute, the pen forgotten back home. Oh well - he’ll bring it back in another day - no big deal.

Except, it becomes a Thing, with a capital T.

Jon is chewing on and fumbling with his pens as usual, recording statement after statement and doesn’t exactly realize what he is doing. He hides away, until one of the others drags him away from the desk for inconvenient human needs like food and company, but really, he goes willingly now. All he needs is a small reminder.

The bit of human warmth and company means a lot to Jon, and he soaks it up as much as he allows himself to. Trusting people is a struggle for him. His relationship with each and every coworker is definitely a work in progress, but he is willing to try, anyway.

One night, Martin points to the side of Jon’s neck in quiet amusement.

“Oh, you’ve got ink on you - yes, right there.” he touches the spot behind his own ear. Jon blinks, and when he tries to wipe it away, his hand comes away with yet another goddamn pen.

It joins a small pile of accidentally stolen pens on Jon’s desk back home - he’s been meaning to bring them back ages ago, but he keeps forgetting. At this point, he refuses to drop them all off at once, because that would definitely catch someone’s attention - and attention is the last thing he wants right now. Add in the fact that this is, well, ridiculous and embarrassing… No. Just no.

Jon looks around the room, heat creeping up his face even though there is no one around to look at and judge him - then he opens an empty drawer in his desk. The pens disappear with one swift movement of his arm before Jon slams the drawer shut. There - done.

And this is how, what Jon secretly calls his “Desk Drawer of Shame”, comes into existence.

Occasionally, a small handful of pens will make its way back into the archives. But at this point, they’re way, way too many to bring back at once, at least not without pissing off Elias. That is, if he isn’t chuckling at the ridiculous and mysteriously high cost of office supplies in the last few months.

At the very least, Jon would be at the receiving end of some good natured ribbing from his coworkers in the foreseeable future.

Jon is reading the last few lines of a statement, when the door to his office opens up after a quick knock. He looks up with a frown, which is more habit than anything at this point, and quickly drops his feet back on the ground. At least, he isn’t chewing on a pen this time.

Standing in the doorway, shooting him a small smile, is Martin and he is waiting for Jon to finish recording the last few lines. Only when the familiar

“Statement ends.” marks the end of the recording session, he starts talking.

“Hi! Uh, did you have lunch yet?”

Jon didn’t, and Martin knows it, but he is trying to go the polite route before his motherhen-mode is activated and he physically drags the man away from the desk in an attempt to make him take a break.

So, Jon smiles back, which still feels a bit foreign in a work context, but he secretly enjoys the spark of happiness on Martin’s face when he does. Not like he focuses on that or anything…

“No, I- I didn’t. Did you have something in mind?” he asks as he gets up and pulls his jacket from the back of his chair. It’s a welcome distraction from his work.

Jon didn’t sleep, again, and he can tell that he is getting sloppy and way more irritable than usual. Chances are, getting a bite to eat and spending some time out of the institute with a friend will do him some good.

On the way out, Jon falls comfortably into step with Martin. Plenty of thoughts cross his mind, and he chooses to ignore all of them. In fact, he’d been so busy staring up at a cluster of freckles on Martin’s cheek that he doesn’t even notice what he tells him about the little café that he was planning to visit. Only when he stops talking, obviously waiting for an answer, Jon nods, hoping that Martin actually asked him a yes-or-no question.

For now, it seems to be enough, and they enjoy their lunch break. Jon is still lost in thoughts though.

That night, he is unable to sleep once again, as his mind keeps him wide awake and Jon is shaking apart under the blanket. There are two new pens on his desk, and it feels like they’re glaring at him. It’s ridiculous - they really are the least of his worries. Jon is just distracted, that’s all.

There is ink on his neck. Again. Jon swipes at it in mild annoyance, inwardly cursing himself for being so careless. His movement catches Tim’s attention, and then his eyes wander to the pen that is stuck halfway to Jon’s ponytail - it’s for convenience, really - but it’s clearly the cause for the ink scribbles on his skin.

Tim puts the pieces together and grins. He is way too easily amused about this, but to be fair, they get their laughs whenever they can these days. And this is still much better than the silent, angry version of Tim that tends to come out more and more and the last few months. At least, when he’s laughing, he isn’t that.

Small favors.

The more distracted Jon grows, and the longer his hair gets, the more pens he keeps losing - or more like, forgetting - in it.

He doesn’t realize that he is doing it, really, until someone - mostly Martin or Tim these days, because Sasha is (gone) (different ) absent - walks up and plucks one of the pens right out of his hair in order to use it. Jon should be annoyed, but he can’t bring himself to be. It’s oddly comforting that the two of them are still willing to seek him out. Because that’s what this is - there are plenty of pens around, of course.

There is no need to come into his office, to come close to him just to get office supplies. They’re here because they want to, and that honestly means the world to Jon.

As much as he’d tried to keep them at arm’s length, he’s failed miserably. Thankfully so - things would be much, much worse if they had to deal with everything on their own.

“Hang on - how many bloody pens are in there?” Martin asks one day, calling over from the other room. He looks up in utter confusion while already cracking up with laughter.

“Wait, are those-?”

Oh goddammit.

Apparently, that’s what happens when Jon answers absentmindedly when asked for the location of a pen in his apartment.

He needs to renovate his kitchen, because the landlord just won’t do it in any reasonable amount of time, so Jon is in old jeans and an even older T-shirt, packing dishes and kitchenware into boxes with Martin and Tim. The two of them had been kind enough to offer help, so that’s why they’re all piled in Jon’s small apartment on a Saturday morning.

Partway through, they realize that they should probably label the boxes, and soon after, Martin stands in the bedroom, opening not the stationary drawer, but The Secret Drawer of Shame With Accidentally Stolen Pens From The Institute.

“Oh, good lord.” With an audible ‘thump’, Jons forehead collides with the kitchen table. His glasses sit crooked now, and he doesn’t lift his head up while he tries to explain, and despite being flustered, he manages to keep that certain tone of voice that’s usually reserved for work hours.

“I, yes. I may have accidentally taken a pen or two with me and only realized it here. Coming back into work with all of them at once seemed… well. Not ideal at the time.”

“No wonder when you keep storing them in your hair.” Martin comes back, with a handful of pens and a bright smile.

While walking past, he pulls another pen out of Jon’s bun, just to prove his point. A long strand of hair slips forward and falls back into Jon’s face. Meanwhile, Tim has snuck off to peek into the other room out of pure curiosity, then he proceeds to laugh his arse off for the next few minutes.

“You know, we should make it a sport at this point. How much stationary supplies can we steal until Elias catches wind of it?” Tim offers, because of course he does.

It is ridiculous and childish, so naturally, it quickly becomes A Thing.

Anything to get a tiny bit of satisfaction is a valid option at this point, and besides, it’s not like Jon is trying to be sneaky or anything. It just happens , like so many things these days.

As it turns out, Elias doesn’t care. None of them is stupid enough to assume he doesn’t know - the bastard knows everything, that’s part of their problem. He just never calls any of them out on it - if it is because it’s too unimportant or if he is getting a chuckle out of it as well, they never find out.

At some point, late at night when all three of them had a few drinks, they’re brave enough to joke about what fear entity would be responsible for a never ending void filled with pens (“A.K.A you desk drawer of shame, Jon. Have another drink, you’re annoyingly sober for this conversation.”)

It’s a half-serious debate, and one which they continue every once in a while. Most notably so at the institute’s christmas party, huddled in a corner where they’re mostly being left alone. And if that is mostly due to Jon glaring holes through anyone daring to come close, just a hair away from actually hissing and snarling, well. He didn’t get his reputation of being rude and prickly for nothing.

All of this turns into fond memories, once everything has gone to hell.

Jon is freshly awake from six months of coma, and the world around him has changed. Martin is barely around and Tim is dead . So is Sasha, even though they never knew, for the longest time.

All of this hurts badly enough to stop him from breathing every once in a while, and after a series of even more tangled and unfortunate events, Jon finds himself huddled close to Martin on a train.

They’re on their way to Scotland and neither of them talks much, but they’re unwilling to let go of the other’s hand. The air is chilly, even inside the wagon, and Martin is still shivering under layers of jumpers and jackets.

The Lonely has settled deep into his bones, and sometimes, it’s like he is fading away again. Every time this happens, the steady warmth of Jon keeps pulling him back.

Jons hand is smaller and bonier in Martin’s own large, soft hand, but it’s grip is steady and warm. His thumb keeps stroking gently over the back of his hand while he is holding it, and it is the most loved Martin has felt in a long time.

Eventually, he manages to relax enough to doze off for a bit. While his head find’s it’s way down and onto Jon’s shoulder, he can feel the slight poke of a plastic pen that is sticking out of his hair.

Martin almost smiles, and squeezes back when Jon tightens the grip around his hand and settles against him.

They keep finding the damn things around the safehouse, because frankly, they’re everywhere. And that’s just whatever Jon had on his person out of sheer habit. Lord knows, his hair has grown way past his shoulders by now, and more often than not, he keeps it up and out of the way with whatever is around him at the time.

Mostly, it’s pens.

At first, they’re just there , and both Jon and Martin have about a million other things to think of and to deal with than a few too many office supplies laying around.

The exhaustion, both physically and emotionally, leaves them absolutely drained and dead to the world.

It is bad enough so that they crawl into bed almost as soon as they have arrived and inspected the small cabin. The question of whether or not they’re going to share the bed isn’t even raised - neither of them is willing to let go of the other. All the way from London to up here, they’d held hands to reassure themselves that they wouldn’t lose each other, and they’re not about to stop now.

It is a lot easier to remind each other that they’re not alone when all they need to do is focus on the breath and heartbeat of one another. Focusing on the heat radiating under the blankets, where they are embracing throughout the night to keep the nightmares and the ever growing anxiety at bay.

They have plenty of bad days when everything just creeps up at them and even talking is too much. Those days, they spend curled up in front of the fire or in bed, holding on tight for as long as they need to in order to feel more alive again.

After a while, they’re able to relax more. Martin is much warmer and solid now, doesn’t fade away into the fog without noticing. It’s happening less and less now - whether or not he will be able to shake off The Lonely entirely, neither of them knows, but he is happy about every step in the other direction.

Jon is just as happy to see him doing better, and he tells him as much over breakfast, smiling as he tangles their legs under the table.

There are two pens already stuck in his hair, holding it up in two buns. It’s probably from when he read a statement from the stack of files and tapes that Basira sent over the other day.

The statement has definitely taken the edge off of things for Jon. Now he can sit at the kitchen table with his boyfriend and enjoy a cup of tea instead of growing weaker and weaker with hunger for statements. As ironic as it is, it makes him feel more human, even though he is no longer fully human. He’s pretty sure of it.

“I love you.” Martin tells him, because it is true and he likes saying it as often as possible, now that he can. It sends a spark of warm happiness through his chest, and it is bright enough to chase away the cold fog that’s still lingering sometimes - just for a bit.

“I love you, too.”

He’ll never get tired of hearing this.

“I love you” they say, as they drink tea in the morning and eat freshly baked bread, still warm from the oven.

“I love you” they say, as they walk hand in hand through the cobblestone streets down in the village, on their way to buy groceries and look at the little local shops.

“I love you” they say, as they step around each other in the tiny kitchen while cooking dinner, distracting one another with kisses until one of them remembers the food or notices the charred smell of something burning. It’s only then that they break apart, cursing and laughing all at once.

“I love you” they say, as they spend nights wide awake, holding on tightly through their grief and fear. They say it out loud or whisper it into the darkness, comforting one another as best as they can.

“I love you”, they whisper through silence and tears, but they say it just as much through smiles and laughter.

“I love you” they say, after every single argument. Their love for each other is strong, so much so that they’re certain they will be able to figure out the rest. Whether that’s the end of the world as they know it or anything else doesn’t matter.

“I love you” Martin says, after he walks up behind Jon and plucks one of the pens out of his hair. There are at least two more, and besides, Martin woke up this morning with a few lines of poetry in the back of his mind. He wants to write them down before he forgets - maybe, just maybe, he can turn them into something beautiful.

“I love you.” Jon says, and he pulls Martin closer by the front of his pyjama shirt, turning around just enough to be able to press a quick kiss to his lips. The movement leaves them both in an awkward position, hanging over the back of the sofa with their glasses askew.

Martin has one of his arms wrapped around Jon, who is holding on tight, happily leaning into him with a quiet, happy satisfaction on his face. Clearly, he is enjoying this an awful lot.

No doubt, if it wasn’t for the hold onto the sofa Martin has with his other, he’d have toppled over and fallen right into the smaller man’s lap. And maybe that’s exactly what Jon is trying to do - who knows. He is way more affectionate than either of them would have thought possible, really.

They remain wrapped up in the tight hug, and neither of them wants to let go yet.

Notes:

Warnings: - Off-screen canon character death mentioned - insecurity - Loneliness - Trust issues - if you want me to add anything please let me know

#banashee writes #tma fanfic #the magnus archives #the magnus archives fanfic #JonMartin #mentioned character death

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who-ever-said-i-was-nice · 4 years ago

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Hello there ~ Congrats on 100! 🎉💕 I'm so happy for you!! I was wondering if I could request a match up for Ikevamp. I'm fairly new to Tumblr and this is my first match up request so I'm a bit nervous since you are literally the first person I will have interacted with on here 😅 but I love your writing! If you are busy or have a lot of requests or anything please don't worry about it or overwork yourself! It's a lot of work and I totally understand!! Also edit, I'm really sorry in advance. This was way longer than I intended.

I am a bi female. I am an Aries but I am close to the cusp (April 18th). I don't typically associate myself with most Aries traits outwardly though since I am really shy and reserved, but internally I can see it as I am competitive with myself and a major perfectionist. But I'm low-key chaotic as can be like I'd identify myself as chaotic good since I'm just a mess with good intentions 😂 I am an INFP-T personality (which is scary accurate to me) if that helps any!

I am very short, only 5' tall and I am slim with overall small/petite features and frame. I have medium/dark, warmer toned brown eyes and auburn wavy/loose curly hair. I am very pale but have a lot of small freckles on my face and body. I've been told I look a lot younger than my age I think since I have a round face and am overall a small person. I'm very friendly and smile a ton but I am shy. I get big "eye smiles" whenever I smile and tend to blush a lot cause nerves. I've been told I tend to smile a lot and because I'm a shy, vv awkward person, my go to whenever I meet up with literally anyone is to smile out of nervous habit so people tend to think I'm overly friendly or approach me but in reality I'm a nervous boi.

I study landscape architecture and wildlife biology in college rn so I really love art and nature! I want to do habitat restoration after college. I especially am interested in plants and often go hiking and identify plants as well as do botanical drawings.

I am interested in both math and science as well as art. I enjoy watercolor painting as well and I am interested in illustrating children's books if landscape architecture doesn't pan out 😅

Besides that I have an obsession with extreme love for cats. I'm not ashamed to say my cat is my best friend, she is perfection 😂 I love anything living though thats not a person. Plant, animal, insect, they're all so wonderful to me and I tend to feel more comfortable around animals and nature than people.

My favorite color is a pale pink, I really love light, cutesy things. But my personal style is very retro academia. I wear a lot of clothes from the 60's and 70's or inspired by then. I really like fashion and fashion history.

My favorite food is spaghetti with just cheese. I may be an adult but oh well,, some plain ol spaghetti just hits the spot every time. I love baking and cooking though and have a sweet tooth. I used to decorate cakes in high school and I enjoy creating my own recipes and desserts.

I like to daydream, play video games, drink tea, sketch, read, and listen to music as well. I also spend a ton of time outdoors enjoying nature. I love trivial and fun facts. I want to gain as much knowledge as I can about the world.

I don't like things that are too loud I suppose. I'm a pretty easy going person but I am very nervous in crowds or places that are too loud. I'm also afraid of storms and I'm not fond of extremely dark places either. I don't like failing/faltering or embarrassing myself, especially in academics. I am extremely nervous talking to large groups or meeting new people as well, I prefer small, more personal interactions. While I enjoy talking to people it's just really hard so I don't usually unless they reach out to me first. I also hate conflict and drama (unless I'm not involved, then bring the popcorn). But any conflict is a big oof for me.

In a relationship, I really like surprise hugs and signs of affection. Sudden surprises create a sense of excitement which I really like to have. I like the idea of a relationship feeling new, passionate, and exciting, despite being together for awhile. I don't like gifts necessarily since I feel uncomfortable receiving things, I prefer sharing special memories. I'm not huge on PDA, I feel uncomfortable if someone is too clingy around others, especially my family or someone I know since my family is pretty conservative. But if we are alone, I love tons of affection and little acts of love. Hugs from behind, a small brush of our hands, holding pinkies, light kisses, and lots of smiles just make me melt, ugh tiny gestures are so cute. Communication is very important to me but not my strong suit, I tend to shy away from issues and trip over words I don't mean, but body language is very important and I think can be better for me and for my partner to understand.

I would like to be able to enjoy a comfortable silence with someone while we both read or do something while holding hands or just touching in some subtle way. I would love to be able to escape my perfectionist front that I have around others when I'm with my partner and be able to make really silly, dumb jokes and have lots of laughs. I love the idea of joking around while loosely holding each other. I present myself very seriously but I'm a big goof and rather dorky and like to have fun but romantic interactions.

Also it would be a plus if they love or at least tolerate kitty cuddles with me and my cat. My cat is such a baby, she's constantly in my lap or following me around so we are a package deal basically 😂

I'm sorry this is so long, and I hope it is enough for you as well!! Thank you so much for opening up match ups too! If you need anything else let me know! Take care of yourself and congrats!! 💕

It’s perfection don’t worry. Thank you so much for sending the request. I hope you are taking care of yourself too and everything is good.

Anyway I matched you with.....................

............Isaac