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kiss-me-cill-me · 2 months

Note

i’m not sure if anon has already requested a character for that song but if ur up for it CAN WE HAVE THAT SONG WITH JONATHAN CRANE. also i just listened to that song for the first time in like 3 years and got major deja vu lmao 😭

also ps i love u and ur writing !!!

This is related to another ask from an anon, requesting a fic based off of Katy Perry's song, The One That Got Away. I am so sorry to both of you that it's taken me forever to write this, but thank you for your patience and support <3

Now We Pay The Price | Pt. 1

Pairing: Jonathan Crane x Reader

Word Count: 2.8k

Summary: Life hasn't turned out exactly the way you wanted it to. Isolated and distraught as you watch time slip by while you sit, trapped in Arkham, your only wish is to recapture the way that things used to be.

Warnings: Angst, whump, sexual themes but no explicit smut, mental health themes, obsession, unhealthy relationship dynamics, mention of needles, mention of sedatives, unrequited love, established past romantic relationship, ambiguity

A/N: I hardly ever write angst, so please be gentle with me lol. But with the song inspo, I couldn't help but go in that direction. Slightly nervous to post this, but also happy that I've branched out from my comfort zone a bit!

***Please read the warnings before continuing. Minors DNI***

Lying on your stomach, feet in the air, you stretched the thin cotton sheets with your hand. Just enough to give them the tension you needed to glide a ballpoint pen over the fabric, scratching over and over the same mark to make it appear complete. This was far from the perfect medium for doodling - but sheets were what you had, and so they were what you used.

Even the pen was contraband. You knew you weren’t supposed to have it. What anyone thought you’d do with it… honestly, you had no idea. As if you could use a pen for anything other than what you were wrapped up in doing now - carefully and determinedly drawing hearts.

You stopped to rest your head for a moment on the pitifully thin pillow. Across the room, blank white concrete stared back at you. Day in, day out. Endless. The same room with the same walls.

Picking up the pen again, you placed the tip right in between the lobes of one of the many hearts. Scratch, scratch, scratch. A messy, zig-zagging line bisected the doodle.

Broken.

You sighed, and started to color a different heart, filling it with blue ink that didn’t seem very inclined to stick to the bed sheets. It was slow going. The deep azure tint reminded you of deoxygenated blood, like you would see in a textbook diagram. Once the heart was completely filled, you moved dutifully on to the next.

A rustling at your door made you jump. Quickly, you stuffed the pen under your pillow, and turned up the sheets to hide your drawings. It wouldn’t be very good for you if anybody saw them.

You sat up, arranging your rumpled jumpsuit as neatly as you could. Leather straps hung off the sides of your bed, and you spared them a glance, bristling at the memories of having them lashed over your body.

The metal door slid open slowly, until you could finally see…

Him. Your heart skipped a beat and a half as he stepped stiffly into the room, pulling the door shut behind him. He didn’t make a show of locking it, but it was still all too hard to miss the way his hand stopped short at the keyhole, before slipping into his pocket.

“Jonathan. I’m so glad-”

“Don’t call me that,” he bristled. “In here, we don’t know each other. Please. You always forget that.”

“...Dr. Crane,” you corrected yourself.

His tone was so bitter that you could feel it in the very back of your throat, trying to claw its way down to your heart. You swallowed, trying to bite back the taste.

“I’m sorry. I was just happy to see you.” You smiled, pushing through your discomfort, for his sake.

Crane was clearly agitated. He took a few steps into the room, before turning around and facing the door. For one brief moment, you couldn’t see his face, until finally he turned back. His eyes were ice as they stared down at you.

“Do you have any idea how difficult you’ve been making things for me?” he spat.

The accusation hurt, of course. Though you knew very well what he meant. You had been acting out, more than usual, as of late. And although it wasn’t without a purpose, you could see that it was wearing him thin. But… how else were you supposed to see each other?

Arkham Asylum wasn’t exactly known for its model patients. It took a lot to get Dr. Crane’s attention.

“If we spent more time together, I wouldn’t be so difficult,” you replied, trying to keep your tone even.

Crane pinched the bridge of his nose, in that way that you were well acquainted with. He’d always had that habit. Back when you’d first met, you had loved making him get frustrated - just enough for a laugh. Some things never changed.

“You’re really backing me into a corner,” Crane sighed. “And I really wish you wouldn’t.”

“Let’s talk,” you offered, patting the bed. “That’s what you’re here for, right?”

Crane, reluctantly, sat down. You could sense his exhaustion in the way that he almost collapsed onto the bed, hands gripping the edge for support. You inched a bit closer, enough so that your knees touched briefly. Crane pulled away.

You wanted to reach out; put a hand on his shoulder, just like you’d done so many times before. He used to like it when you touched him. Sometimes, you liked to think that yours was the only gentle embrace that he had ever known. Maybe it was silly, but the thought of it always made you feel better.

Now, Crane’s eyes held nothing but menace as he glared over at you, as if you were a stain on the bed sheets. You wondered, vaguely, what had happened to change things.

So much. So much that had led you to this place, where you could be so close to him and yet felt more separated than ever.

“I hate to say it, Doc, but I think I’m going crazy in here,” you joked, trying to lighten the mood.

He barely had a reaction; a deep sigh the only hint that he’d heard what you said at all.

“And why do you think that is?” he asked, finally.

The psychiatrist in him always came through to shove even more distance between you. Like a shield, put up just when you’d started to press through the fog of tension that hung heavy in the room. You swallowed your frustration at being kept out, and tried to answer him honestly.

“Because I barely get to see you,” you replied.

That was the wrong answer, and Crane’s shoulders swung abruptly to face you.

He was scary like this. Almost scary, anyway. If you didn’t know him better, the look in his eyes would have sent you cowering.

But you did know him, so well, and you remembered with sudden clarity that he’d always been bothered by feeling inadequate. You felt awful; you hadn’t meant to imply that he wasn’t doing enough.

“I’m sorry,” you soothed, before he could say anything. “I know that you’re busy, but-”

“But you continue to make yourself into a problem,” he hissed. “You know the only reason you’re in here instead of rotting away over at Blackgate is because of me, right?”

You nodded, too shocked by embarrassment to speak.

“Then for my sake, why don’t you act like it?”

“I’m…” You paused for a moment, sharp tears welling up in your eyes. “I’m just… lost without you,” you whispered. “You know that. I always told you I would be.”

The first tear fell, and you tried to hide your face.

“Don’t cry,” Crane sighed.

You could hear the harsh tinge of annoyance in his voice, and wished that it was anything else. Even his pity would have been better than knowing that your feelings were now nothing but inconvenience. You choked on your own throat, trying to stifle a sob.

“Please don’t cry,” he mumbled, slightly softer this time.

But now that you’d started, you couldn’t make yourself stop. If anything, the tears were only coming faster, and you felt yourself start to shrink into your own chest. The little black pit that always seemed to sit there, now swiftly opening up to swallow you.

With a deep and lingering exhale, Crane pulled you close. Suddenly, you were back where you both had been, so many years ago: one person’s cheek pressed into the other’s shoulder. Tears soaking into fabric that seemed to be stained with sadness. You let out a half-laugh, half-sob, and nestled into the crook of his neck.

“Remember when I used to do this for you?”

Crane stiffened slightly beside you.

“Things have changed since then,” he muttered.

Your memory suddenly flashed back to the first time he had used the words “dysfunctional attachment” to describe you. That had hurt worse than anything else. Even more than all of the other occasions to come, when you’d heard those same words and worse fall from his lips. They could never truly compare to that first time, when your whole world had come crashing abruptly to the ground.

His arm dropped away from you, but you kept your face pressed into his shoulder.

“Things haven’t really changed,” you said. “I still belong to you.”

“You don’t.”

Two words that stung worse than hundreds of needles. You tried to pretend that the wind hadn’t been knocked out of you, as you replied.

“I do. And I will. Always.”

You looked up at him with wet eyes, a trace of the old life that you’d shared together still evident deep within your pupils. Even if only the memories of it lived inside of you, they still lived. They were still something.

“You need to move on,” Crane said flatly. “I know it’s not easy in here, with me…” He sighed. “I did what I could to protect you, but maybe it would have been better if I had just stayed out of your case. Blackgate would have at least given you distance.”

“I don’t want distance,” you whispered. “I just want to be with you.”

“You can’t be.”

Always so stubborn.

“I could be, if you’d help me get out.”

Confusion flashed across Crane’s face, quickly replaced with raw terror.

“Escape Arkham?” His eyebrows furrowed, nearly knitting together. “You can’t be serious. Do you even realize what-?”

“I know, I know,” you hummed. “But just think - we could run away together, just like we always talked about.”

“Stop.”

“Don’t you remember? We promised-”

“Things. Change.” Crane’s voice almost shook as it thundered.

You brought a hand up to his face, gently coaxing until he looked at you.

“But they don’t have to,” you breathed.

Your eyes drifted down to your wrist, to the space just below your thumb, and over the little tattoo that was etched into your skin. A heart - just like the ones littering your blanket, hidden carefully from Crane’s view.

“Remember when you gave me this?” you asked, holding up the tattoo in front of him.

“No; I remember you doing that to yourself.”

“At first, sure,” you chuckled. “But then, you helped me to finish it, ‘cause-”

“Because I didn’t want you to hurt yourself,” Crane muttered. “Just like you always seem to. Even now.”

You ignored his remark as your hands drifted down to collect one of his pale wrists, then lifted up to your face. The sleeve of his suit jacket slipped back, revealing the spot where once, long ago, you had given him the same mark. Just with a felt-tip pen; he would have never allowed you, even back then, to deface his own body in the same way you had yours.

At the time, the impermanence of it hadn’t seemed to matter. You’d been too distracted; elated by the way that his and your matching blossoms of ink had pressed up against each other as you’d held hands.

Now, you pressed a kiss to the blank space.

“Us against the world, Jonathan. Remember?”

Suddenly, his fingers pressed into your face, digging into the sides of your chin as he forced you back into focus.

“Don’t call me that,” he warned, once again. “How many times do I have to tell you? That life doesn’t exist in here.”

Your hands still dangled from his wrist as he continued to crush your jaw, not letting you look away. But this was the one part of him that you didn’t want to face. The part that didn’t need you anymore.

“Jonathan. You know the reason I’m in here, don’t you?”

“Are you asking if I know about your case? All of the crimes you committed?” he huffed. “Because yes - I was very involved in the trial, and it was nearly impossible to keep everyone else in the dark about…”

Us was the word that he couldn’t bring himself to say.

“That’s not what I mean,” you said. “I mean, do you know why I did those things?”

“Stop - please don’t tell me this again.”

“I did them for you,” you cried, your emotions getting the better of you again. “I do everything for you. So don’t you dare pretend you don’t need me, when really the only fucking reason you’re not stuck in here with me is because I always-”

“Stop.”

Crane’s hands tore away to grab you by the shoulders, wrenching you back to reality. Somehow he always managed to do that. To pull you straight out of the riptide, just as it was about to sweep you away.

“I never asked you to do what you did,” he hissed, articulating each word between clenched teeth.

“But I did it anyway,” you spat. “Because you always get into trouble. Because I told you I’d be there for you, no matter what. And because I always keep promises.”

“I don’t need you to anymore.” Crane’s hands squeezed you uncomfortably. “I don’t - I didn’t need you to ruin your life for me.”

“My life isn’t ruined if it’s for you.”

“Jesus Christ…”

Crane’s hand came up to rake through his hair, but before he could pull away fully, you caught him. Fingers clenched tight to the front of his suit, you pulled back and forced him to fall with you. Your back hit the bed, and Crane scrambled to catch himself before his full weight could slam into you. His body perched just above yours, caging you in his arms.

“This. You must remember this.”

Your words were a whisper, barely loud enough to pass from your lips to his ear, despite how close he was. Your legs frantically came up to tug at his waist, trying to force him closer.

“This was the only time I felt alive,” you continued. “When we were like this. You remember.”

How could he not? You could still live in that moment, if you tried hard enough. As if it had been only yesterday. Both of you nervous and fumbling, nearly falling off of the bed as he hovered over you and you clung to him.

The way that your bodies had melted together, almost desperately, in a way that had made you feel certain that neither one of you would let go. Letting go then had meant something worse than death; it meant a life that dragged on without you and him together.

The stale echoes of passion still rang in your ears as you looked up, silently begging for him to rekindle the spark that had been there.

Crane’s expression was all but impossible to read. His face half-hidden beneath bangs that fell into his eyes. The two-second pause was like a lifetime as you awaited his answer.

“Of course I remember.”

Your heart soared, flying recklessly up.

“But that doesn’t mean it’s the same now.”

Broken. Smashed hard against the cold floor of your cell.

“I don’t believe that,” you breathed. “I can’t. I-”

“You need to,” he interrupted. “Because it’s the truth.”

You stayed stock still on the mattress as Crane briskly pushed himself up, disentangling himself from your limbs. He exhaled as he tugged at his jacket, trying to make himself presentable.

You weren’t sure how he could find the nerve, after ripping your whole world apart.

“I’m upping the dose on your sedatives,” he informed you, still not meeting your gaze. “But I would prefer if you could find it within yourself to behave so that I don’t have to. I don’t like to do this, but-”

“Appearances…” Your voice drifted through the room. “Have to be kept up.”

He had told you as much, probably dozens of times. Just like he’d told you the old life between you no longer mattered, or even existed. If it ever had.

“I’m glad you understand,” he said shortly.

His back was already turned, but you looked up to watch him drift out of the room, quickly pocketing the keys on his way out.

Your head fell back, hard, but the sensation did nothing to ground you. You felt all too lost and adrift; trapped in a situation you had created. This wasn’t how things were supposed to end up.

Your hand drifted silently under the pillow, and wrapped around the barrel of the pen that was still hidden there.

Suddenly, grotesque understanding of all the reasons why no one would want you to have such a thing flooded into your consciousness. The possibilities were many and bleak, but they all led back to the same conclusion. It was just like you had told Crane earlier.

If your life together didn’t exist in this place, then the only solution was to leave.

You smiled. With resolve swirling dangerously inside your veins, you vowed to make sure that nothing like this ever happened again. You were going to be together, no matter what.

There would be no getting away.

This fic now has a Part 2! Read it HERE

#jonathan crane x reader #jonathan crane #cillian murphy x reader #angst #LemmyFics

172 notes · View notes

niki-phoria · 11 months

Note

Please I need Yeon sieun dating head canons.

pairing: kdrama!sieun x gn!reader (they/them pronouns) genre: fluff word count: 1.7k

warnings: mentions of parental neglect/bullying

includes: reader is booksmart/likes studying, post layout is kinda messy oops, this is my first attempt at writing hcs pls, i am begging for sieun x male reader reqs

a/n: i don't write hcs but i had a few ideas for this so i did my best lol thank you for requesting !! i hope you like it :))

⋆｡°✩ first meeting

— he’s SO awkward when you first meet

— probably ignores you at first lmao

— sieun doesn’t care much about his peers/other classmates but you catch his eye because of your intelligence

— he still focus more on his studies tho

sieun sits at his usual seat in class, hunched over his desk as he reviews his notes for an upcoming english exam. his hand hovers just above the paper as he skims through the words and makes small mental notes about which parts to continue practicing.

the sudden halted chatter from his classmates catches sieun’s attention. he glances up briefly, setting his pencil aside when he notices his teacher standing in her usual position at the front of the classroom. beside her is an unfamiliar teenager wearing a thin black jacket draped over the school’s button up.

“class,” the teacher begins, gesturing to you. “this is y/n. they’re a new student here.”

“hello,” you say, bowing to the class.

“there’s an open spot next to sieun,” she says, gently pushing you towards him. “you can sit there for now.”

sieun lets out a small sigh in annoyance as you shuffle over before sliding into the seat beside him. the mindless chatter of your classmates resumes as the door closes, signaling your teacher’s exit. he reaches over to grab his earbuds once again, reaching up to place one into his ear when a voice interrupts him. “number four is wrong.”

sieun stops in his tracks, glaring in your direction. you had also pulled out a notebook, filled with your own scribbled notes and miscellaneous doodles decorating the corners. “it’s a dependant clause, not independent,” you elaborate before turning back to your own notes.

despite his better judgment, sieun backtracks to question four. he scoffs slightly when he rereads the question again. you were right.

“thanks,” he mumbles.

you simply smile, waving him off with the slight shake of your head. “anytime.”

⋆｡°✩ first date

— you have to ask him out. he will never make the first move

— needs a lot of reassurance. this is his first relationship and he likes you a lot. he doesn’t wanna mess it up. bare with him

— probably started off as a study hangout and turned into a study date ngl

you flip your pen between your fingers as you watch sieun continue to scribble down notes. his apartment remains silent except for the occasional noise of either of you flipping through your textbooks or the incessant noise of sieun’s pencil against the page.

you set your own pencil aside, ignoring your notes in favour of admiring the boy in front of you. sieun’s fringe is just barely short enough to avoid falling into his eyes. his eyebrows furrow every now and then as his eyes rapidly switch between his notebook and the textbook laid out beside him. his teeth catch his bottom lip between them - a particularly attractive habit you had noticed over the months of getting to know each other.

siuen pauses when he notices your lack of writing, glancing up at you momentarily. you can’t help the soft smile that spreads across your face when you notice his cheeks heating up slightly.

“you’re staring,” he says.

“i’m admiring,” you tease. sieun’s writing pauses for a second before resuming, though his blush has spread fully across his face, tinting the skin a light pink.

a tranquil silence falls over the room once again. it feels so intimate - sitting with sieun in his quiet apartment. your little quirks have made their way into his life despite your young age. a new pair of slides sits at the door, awaiting your arrival. the front pouch of sieun’s backpack has been cleaned out of the usual pencils and highlighters in favour of snacks and packets of gum for you to take at your convenience. he no longer reaches for his left earbud; the small device being reserved for you.

your feelings for sieun jumble together in a mess of half-finished love letters and detailed confessions deeply confined to your mind. after spending over a month suppressing the urge to tell him, you finally can’t help yourself anymore.

“sieun,” you reach out to take his hand into yours. you smile as he intertwines your fingers together. he stops his studying to look up at you - something he’s never done for anyone else. “i like you.”

his eyes widen in surprise. your breath hitches in your throat and your body tenses. it feels like hours of waiting for his reaction before he finally speaks.

“i like you too.”

a bright smile spreads across your face, making sieun’s lips quirk upwards into a soft smile of his own. “will you be mine?”

“only if you’ll be mine too,” he smiles as he squeezes your still-intertwined hands.

⋆｡°✩ first kiss

— “i don’t know what to do with my hands”

— has never been kissed before slkdnsl

— probably doesn’t kiss back at first but he’ll get the hang of it

— more of a peck than an actual kiss tbh

— it takes a lot of trust and vulnerability to get to this point with siuen. he’s not used to feeling love or affection so kisses mean a lot to you

you sigh to yourself, dramatically stretching before a yawn escapes you. the noise catches sieun’s attention, making him pause momentarily as he watches you attempt to blink some of the sleepiness out of your eyes. “you should get some rest,” he says.

you glance at your textbook once more before nodding with another small sigh. “so should you. you’ve been working for even longer than i have.”

“i’m fine.” the words escape sieun’s lips almost instinctively as he continues his studying. you resist the urge to roll your eyes, closing your textbook and shoving it into your backpack in preparation for school the next day.

“sieun…” you circle around the dining room table so you’re standing behind your boyfriend. you lean down to gently rest your hands on his shoulders, gently massaging the tense muscles. a small sigh of content escapes him as you lean down to press a chaste kiss against his cheek. “you’re exhausted. come on, let’s go to bed.”

sieun finally relents after a few more seconds, letting his own pencil fall to the side before he stands up. your arm snakes around his waist as you help him tidy up; rhythmically packing up his pencils into the case and sliding each textbook back into its rightful place inside of his bag.

you set your backpacks beside each other as you guide sieun towards his bedroom. his bed remains in the corner, still perfectly tidied from his morning routine.

sieun climbs into bed first, sliding underneath the covers before you join him. his arm finds its familiar home around your waist to keep your body closely against his. you bring your hand up to cup sieun’s cheek, brushing your thumb against his soft skin. he smiles as your fingers trail down his face to trace along his jawline before they finally settle underneath his chin.

sieun’s breath hitches when you brush your thumb against his plump bottom lip. he’s grateful for the darkness covers the blush burning on his cheeks. your voice is quiet when you break the silence. “sieun,” you whisper.

“what is it?”

“can i kiss you?”

his body tenses beside you before he forces himself to relax. sieun can feel his heart beating erratically in his chest. “i’ve… never kissed anybody before.”

“it’s okay.” even in the moonlight he can see you softly smiling at him. “we can take it slow, okay? i won’t do anything you’re not comfortable with.”

he knows. sieun has never felt safe with anyone like he does with you. but he nods nevertheless. “please kiss me,” he whispers.

your hand moves from his chin to cup his cheek once again. after a few seconds you finally lean in, gently pressing your lips against his in a sweet kiss.

sieun brings his own hand up to your cheek, hesitantly leaning in and replicating your movements. this one lasts much longer than the first. you can nearly feel all of the love being poured into it.

you both smile when you finally pull away, pressing a final peck against his lips. you lean in closer, nuzzling your face into the crook of sieun’s neck. you press a chaste kiss against the exposed skin of his neck as you let out a small content sigh, finally letting your eyes flutter closed as you begin to fall asleep. “i love you,” you whisper.

sieun presses a kiss against your forehead. “i love you too.”

⋆｡°✩ general dating hcs

— not a huge fan of pda. he doesn’t like the attention and would rather keep your moments together private

— not very touchy but he likes when you hold his hand/intertwine your arms together (especially if it’s an unconscious thing)

— SO PROTECTIVE. sieun is 100% willing to throw himself between you and any bullies

— his kisses are short and sweet. kiss him as a reward for a good grade or reassurance and his face will light up

— sometimes if he’s feeling extra confident he’ll kiss you in public

— has moments of insecurity pretty often. siuen was neglected as a kid and bullied as a teenager. he needs to know that you love and care about him for him and not out of sympathy

— he needs reminders to eat/sleep/drink water. falls a little more in love every time you do little things for him

— his love languages are quality time/acts of service. quietly studying together until you get up to make him some food as he reviews your notes for you are some of his fav moments with you

— gets clingy when he’s tired. pull him away from his studying, help him wash up, kiss his forehead, and pull him into your arms and he will MELT

— also pls pls pls play with his hair he’ll fall asleep immediately

324 notes · View notes

dawneternal · 1 month

Text

Just a Favor | pt 5 | Gwynriel

✦ Hopefully the description of the temple makes sense! If not, I'll do a little doodle of it lol I love thinking up places and things that might exist in Velaris

✦ Warnings: all fluff my dudes

✦ Word Count: 1.6k

✦ AO3 Link

✦ Masterlist

Gwyn stood in the training ring, moving through positions with a wooden sword. When she arrived in the ring early and found it empty she had been too nervous to stand still. So she’d kicked off her lovely satin slippers and began practicing any movements that her fancy clothes would allow.

Nesta had leant her a nice dress, a simple teal silhouette with a layer of embroidered gossamer over top. She’d worn her sea-glass earrings and swept her hair back with a matching comb. She knew she looked pretty. But it only served to make her more nervous. Maybe she was overdressed.

But as Azriel appeared at the far edge of the ring, all of those worries dissipated. He had dressed up too, in a black sweater and black pants. Shiny boots not yet worn from training and fighting, and little gold hoops in his ears. His hair was slicked back from his face, and as nice as it looked, she missed his usual messy curls. At least he looked as unsettled as she did, hands shoved in his pockets as he made his way toward her.

“Hi,” She whispered, unsure if he would even hear it.

“Hi,” He said back, a smile spreading over his face, “You look beautiful. You didn’t have to dress up for me.”

“Who said it was for you?” She asked with a smirk, and Gods he wanted to kiss her right there.

“I don’t see anyone else waiting to whisk you away,” He chuckled.

“Are you whisking me away, shadowsinger?” She straightened, eyes glittering with interest.

“If that’s okay. Winnowing or flying?”

“Winnowing,” Gwyn said quickly, swallowing hard, “Definitely winnowing.”

Azriel waited for her to slip her shoes back in and then offered an arm ignoring the humming of the bond in his chest as she tucked her hand into his elbow. He winnowed them away into the heart of Velaris.

When Gwyn’s vision stopped swirling, she found herself standing in front of a tea shop. Fae-light lanterns swung in the breeze, hanging from the faded awning. Potted plants lined the sidewalk in front of the sparkling windows, some she recognized as tea plants. Then Azriel was leading her inside. It was cozy, lovely art covering the walls and mismatched tables and chairs tucked into every corner. A rich and spicy smell filled the air and it made her relax a little.

Azriel nodded to the woman behind the counter, who winked at him as he led her to the back of the building. A few doorways led in different directions, one most likely to the kitchen. The shadow singer opened the middle door, revealing a stone staircase lined with fae-lights.

“What is this?” She asked, peering down the dark stairway.

“Something you’ll like,” He said, placing a hand on the small of her back to urge her forward. She hoped he did not notice her shiver.

Gwyn swallowed her nerves and started down the stairs. As they descended, she realized she could hear the bubbling of water. When they reached the bottom and their destination was revealed, Gwyn paused with a gasp. They were in an alcove cut into a small cliffside above the Sidra. Mossy stone made up the walls and arched ceiling, candles and lanterns hung from above to give them light. Water trickled down in little man-made waterfalls, running through carved swirls in the walls and into little pools in the floor. A carved railing separated them from the churning river below, and a few benches sat before it. Beyond the bank across the river, the city glowed and hummed with life.

“What is this?” She asked again in a whisper.

“It’s a temple,” He answered, smiling at her awe, “To the spirit of the Sidra.”

He turned her around so she could see the mosaic behind them, depicting a river spirit among swirls of fish and water. Then he moved to sit on one of the benches, beckoning her to follow. She sat beside him and gazed down at the river, illuminated by the lights of the city.

“It’s beautiful,” She murmured.

“I thought you’d like it,” His smile grew to a grin, “You fit right in.”

She smiled up at him and that anxiety returned, filling her stomach with butterflies. His eyes looked as wild as they had that morning, and she swore he took a deep breath. She found herself blushing, though she wasn’t entirely sure what caused it. Maybe his handsome features, carved out of the moonlight and the lights of Velaris. Maybe the fact that they were alone in such an ethereal place. A place meant for telling secrets.

“I’m sorry again for flying away,” Azriel swallowed hard. His smile had faded.

“That’s the third time you’ve apologized,” Gwyn chuckled.

“And it’s still not enough,” He shook his head.

“I think you’ve made up for it, shadowsinger,” She whispered, daring to let her eyes lock on his. She watched his lips part, his breath catch in his throat.

That kiss was worth it all, she thought but didn’t say.

“I have to tell you a story,” Azriel said, his voice low and soft. His fingers twitched, like he had almost reached for her hand and decided not to.

“Tell me,” She gave him an encouraging smile, though she was barely able to hear her own voice over the thundering of her heart. Azriel turned his gaze toward the water and drew in a long breath.

“A few years ago I met a very brave girl. Sometimes, selfishly, I wish that I had met her on a different day. At a different time. So that I wouldn't know what it was like to see such pain in her eyes. But since then, I have watched her claw her way out of the darkness and I have only ever been in awe.”

Gwyn stared at him, lips parted and tears in her eyes. He did not have the courage to look at her yet.

“And then she went into the Blood Rite,” Azriel’s voice broke, pained from the memory, “And I worried I'd never get that chance to tell her how incredible I think she is. But I should've known better because not only did she make it out but she won the whole damn thing.”

He could not help his grin, the beaming pride in his eyes.

“But that made me lose all of my courage completely. I'm not worthy of her. Not in the slightest. So I gave up any idea of telling her how I feel. She is beautiful, and kind, and fierce, and full of so much light and love. And I know I'll never compare. I still live in the darkness. I'll probably stay in the darkness.”

The shadowsinger swallowed, still gazing down at the river. Gwyn watched him speak, the moonlight kissing his features. Her heart was so full she thought it might burst and she wanted to tell him he was wrong. That he was the one who was beautiful and kind and fierce. But he had more to say.

“And then, a few days ago, she asked me to kiss her. And I said yes because I am selfish and I wanted any affection I could get from her. And I never imagined….” He trailed off, a lump growing in his throat.

"I wanted it to be you who kissed me,” Gwyn whispered, “I was never going to ask anyone else. I guess if you said no, I would have eventually. But I always wanted it to be you.”

Azriel finally met her eyes.

“Gwyneth,” He hardly ever said her full name anymore, but she loved the way it sounded on his tongue. Smooth like golden honey.

“Yes?” The world stopped, time frozen as she waited for him to continue.

“I flew away because I was surprised. Because I felt the bond snap.”

Gwyn looked down, heart leaping into her throat. The words she had not let herself imagine. The thing she had hoped for but would not name. Her future had been teetering close to the edge and it had actually fallen the way she wanted it to. When she looked back up at him, her eyes were full of tears.

“I can't comprehend why,” He croaked, "I can't explain why. Part of me wants to apologize and tell you I'm sorry that it's me. And part of me just wants to ask you to accept me anyways, even if I don't deserve it.”

“Azriel,” Gwyn reached for his hands and held them, “You are one of the most incredible people I've ever met. You are the only one who sees yourself as this broken thing. And I am not so whole and complete myself, but I can love you with every piece of me that I have.”

“You could love me?” Azriel's chin wobbled as he stared down at their joined hands.

“I think I already do,” Gwyn whispered.

Azriel pulled his hands from hers and brought them to her face, holding her gently. He studied her for a long while, memorizing the exact moment she had said the most wonderful words he'd ever heard. Gwyn wrapped her hands around his wrists, smiling up at him as she let him digest what she'd said.

“You don't have to accept the bond today,” He said, “When it snaps-”

“I know,” She gave him a shy smile, “I…I think I need to consider whether I'm ready for that. But I want you to know that I will accept it. I will be your mate.”

“I didn't dare hope to hear you say that,” He whispered, pulling her closer, “Ever.”

“I'm full of surprises,” Gwyn grinned at him with eyes full of starlight. Then she leaned in and kissed him.

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the-alliance-maker · 2 months

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More art from my younger sister, yay!

Mask (Baby Hero of Time) looks like that because he's worn the Fierce Deity Mask too many times for extremely long periods, and now it's started to stain/scar his skin.

I'm also putting her little doodle she made me bellow too.

Mask (Baby Hero of Time) has a/his shadow following him around. This is apparently my sister's view of their relationship.

(She was nervous about letting me post the gif and required that I clarified that it's a low effort, quick animation she only made to get a laugh out of me, lol. She was correct about making me laugh. I was in tears for, like, an hour.)

More explanations (And lack there of?) about it under the cut.

These pieces of art are both from an AU of mine that we roleplay a lot.

I'd explain more, but it's built off an alternate timeline/universe of @wutheringmights story "Call them brothers". And I'm not sure what her rules are about fanart or fanfics, mostly because I never asked or looked into it and I never intended to.

I make AUs for the fanfics I read, write fanfics for those fanfics with thousands upon thousands of words in them and then never post them or do anything other than hand them to my sister to read. She does the same with her art.

...Fandoms are messy enough without me accidentally stepping on someone's toes. (I think my sister doesn't post her art because she's too unconfident though.)

That aside, Call them brothers is literally my favorite fic I've ever read. I know we like to throw that phrase around in the fandom a lot, but I have every intention of getting that sucker printed and bound once it's finished. I've been reading Fanfiction for nearly a decade and this is the first one I've wanted to do that for.

If you're a person who enjoys darker stories and want a story line with some actual consequences for the characters, I'd totally recommend it. The last time I was this gut punched over characters and their development was Red Rising by Peirce Brown (My favorite published book series ever), and Wuthering's descriptions of a war ravaged country and all it's horrors is fucking immaculate.

I found Call them brothers through my desire to see a longer fic that had Spirit Tracks Link, and it did. not. disappoint.

Wuthering's takes on what Spirit's abilities, character traits, and game culture/lore are currently my favorite I've seen from anyone in the fandom, and I would doubly recommend the fic just for that.

That said, it's not a story for the faint of heart. It's Dark. With a capital 'd' for a reason. Wuthering doesn't add all those tag warnings for no reason. Also, if you can't stand to see one of the Link bois written as anything other than what the mainstream interpretation for them is, this isn't for you. War isn't out of character, but he's certainly a bold take. A fantastic one, but bold none the less.

Plus there's mild mentions of Links being interested in other character's that aren't their Zeldas or their typical love interests. There is NO shipping of the Jojo's characters amongst each other, but if you're the kind of person who can't stand alluding to characters having crushes that aren't Link x Zelda, it isn't for you.

I know there's some people in the fandom who don't like that kind of thing, so I thought I'd mention it. Also, you've been warned so no being mean to Wutheringmights about it!

If you're okay with the things I've listed, please, please, please give it a read. @wutheringmights deserves all the love for writing something so good.

(Anyway, I could ramble for hours about all the reasons Wutheringmights is my favorite Author in the LOZ fandom, but this was supposed to just be a post about my lil sis's art that got waaaaay away from me.)

#My sister's art #Little alliance Art #time linked universe #majora's mask link #loz link #time lu #linked universe time #It's only Lu because it's an AU of a LU Fic but the character concept all on it's own isn't???#So I'm tagging both #Sorry if that's confusing

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happysparklingshadows · 8 months

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𝙼𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚢 𝚀𝚞𝚒𝚐𝚕𝚎𝚢 + 𝚈𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝙰𝚕𝚙𝚑𝚊𝚋𝚎𝚝 (’96)

Warnings: Misty Quigley lol, drugging, smut, mature themes.

Notes: I fucking love Misty and I think she needs to have more love! @zhivaxo @g1rlsriot @h-doodles

*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*

Affection: How do they show their love and affection? How intense would it get?

Misty is very affectionate and shows it in all the ways of the five love languages. She kidnaps you, gives you quality time, touches you, praises you, gives you gifts of whatever you want, and even cooks your food (with or without drugs inside of them). She is intense and will tell you she is the only person to love you this way, and you can’t disagree. No one would treat you like their whole world and mean it.

Blood: How messy are they willing to get regarding their darling?

Misty Quigley is not ashamed of how she can be. She will protect you and never feel guilty for something so simple. Protecting you; keeping you is all Misty cares about. She would fucking burn someone alive if it meant she could keep you.

Cruelty: How would they treat their darling once abducted? Would they mock them?

Misty will abduct you, it’s just a matter of time and money to keep you somewhere safe, but she is not cruel about it. She would tease you, “Oh baby, is that too much for you? I know it’s stressful, baby.” But she doesn’t mock your fear or anger; she wants you to love her again.

Darling: Aside from abduction, would they do anything against their darling’s will?

A lot of things. She will make you wear things like her to match, she will force you to kiss her even when you don’t want to, Misty will make you hang out with her, Misty will overwhelm you, and she will not go away. She is overbearing but doesn’t force herself too much because she doesn’t want to scare you off.

Exposed: How much of their heart do they bare to their darling? How vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling?

Funny enough, Misty is a really guarded and not very vulnerable person. She has only been rejected and ridiculed for how she was and couldn’t change. She doesn’t let people in, even close to her. The wilderness experience was the only time Misty felt a part of a community; even then, she was still seen as an outcast. She wants to be accepted and loved but has grown her walls so high that she doesn’t know how to lower them. She lets you peek into her inner self by crying and coming to you after a mean comment. I feel like the Krystal situation would happen with you there, and Misty would make you quiet, and you just would because she is the only one to accept you.

Misty cries quietly beside you at night, the other girls asleep, and finally gives Misty a moment just to feel her feelings. Misty doesn’t allow herself to cry too much; she is always told to hold her feelings in out of “Babies only cry, Misty. Don’t be a baby.” being told to her since she was 5 years old.

Misty was never allowed to show those feelings in her house, and she never got to see her parents, so when she saw them, she just got used to acting like she was okay. Her breath hitches, and the smallest whimper falls from her lips.

You stir beside her, your hand resting on her small chest and feeling the frantic heartbeats of your girlfriend. You open your eyes to Misty, wiping the waterfall of tears.

“Misty-”

“I’m okay-I’m okay, honey. Go back to bed, I’m so sorry. I’m sorry.” Misty quivered, her lip jetting in and out as she held her sobs. She quietly cuddles closer to you, and her smaller hand wraps in your hand.

“Misty, it’s okay. I’m right here. Let it out; let's cry together.” You coo to her and pet her nest of blonde curls. Your fingers comb through her strains to calm her down.

Misty whimpers and buries her face in your chest as she cries into it. She doesn’t want to talk about why or what she thinks; she just needs to cry. And you let her with open arms. You are the only person to ever do that for her, and she can never tell you how much she loves you for it.

Fight: How would they feel if their darling fought back?

Misty would be desperate to return it or make it as before the fight. They would double down and force with everything they had, which is a lot because you are everything to them; they would just try to tell you they are right. They just want to love you and do right by you, and the world is just cruel to you two. They reject you two, but you two are the only ones to accept each other, at least in her mind.

Game: Is this a game to them? How much would they enjoy watching their darling try to escape?

Yeah, she just would try and fail to hide it. She likes how you think you can escape her and that she couldn’t follow you with your scent alone. Misty knows everything about you and will do anything to get you back, and she wins every time.

Hell: What would be their darling’s worst experience with them?

Oh, I think Misty would have a lot of uncomfortable moments out in public and private with you. I think the worst event would be if she hurt you and she did do something harmful to you physically. I think Misty would break your legs to keep you with her so you can’t physically leave her (kind of like killing stalking, sorry 😭)

Ideals: What kind of future do they have in mind for/with their darling?

Misty wants to spend every day with you until she dies. She always gives off an old soul, saying things like “I hope I go first because I couldn’t-“ and crying. The idea that you could leave her and have your own life without her is unsettling and would cause her to split. Misty would want to be married, but she doesn’t want to be pregnant or wants you to be impregnated with someone else’s baby. She WOULD NOT have it. Misty is lowkey a bottom in the relationship. Even if she plays this white knight figure for you, she would want you to propose. When she is longer in the wilderness, she will come to the idea that you two could propose together, making her so happy.

You kiss Misty as she giggles, trying to be quiet as the other girls settle in for the night, “(Y/n), They’ll notice we’re gone!”

You kiss her soft pink lips again and look into her brown eyes, smiling sweetly, “Let them notice that me and my girl are gone. I don’t care about what they think.”

Misty blushed and smiled wildly, she didn’t know what to do with this good news and this reassurance. “I want to be with you forever!” She blurted, blushing. She immediately regretted it as she watched your face intensely to see your reaction.

“I do too!” You say back and kiss her, wrapping your arms around her neck.

Jealousy: Do they get jealous? Do they lash out or find a way to cope?

Very. Misty gets very jealous and territorial about you and will confront them in her very Misty way. She would push them away and remind you that you are hers with a pout and a thousand kisses to your face. She says, “I love you”s over and over as she pecks your cheeks.

Kisses: How do they act around or with their darling?

Misty is very loving as she is weird and possessive. Misty loves you and listens to you with no judgment. Misty would completely change her mind if you talked about something with passion. Misty doesn’t like friends because it kind of is weird, but because you talked about it like onto her, she would watch every fucking episode like it was a ticket into your heart. She is so invested in you and so loving about it. She has never met someone so wonderful and pure before.

Love letters: How would they go about courting or approaching their darling?

Oh, Misty approaches you like a knight in shining armor! She is a weird kid, and she accepts anyone who wants to be her friend, so you two become friends. I see Misty not speaking about her feelings for you at all and maybe even holding onto them for years. Misty and you met in freshmen year, and for three years, Misty would just stalk you from afar if she wasn’t trying to be your friend. Misty never really had that many friends, so for her to change your title in her brain from a friend to more took until you showed some interest back. The second you do, though, Misty will pounce on you.

Misty’s eyes widen when she sees you lean into her. She feels like she is out of her body as she heard you liked her, and now as you sit on her bed at her sleepover without her parents, leaning into her to finally kiss her.

Misty quickly kisses you back and closes her eyes. She is hungry for you, and her hands grab all over your back, with sharp grips with her fingers. She claws on your clothes, and you do her. You were losers all going through middle and high school, never having anyone to explore with or date; you two were each other’s only friends. You were the only person ever to accept Misty’s oddness that seemed to make her unlovable to the world.

“Fuck, Misty-” You moan as Misty pulls your shirt over your head and litters your neck and chest with kisses. Kisses, bites, licks. She wants to devour you and have you inside of her forever. Her knee comes up to your pussy as she humps up to you.

“Iloveyouiloveyouiloveyouiloveyou-ah” She stammers and moans as she rubs against your thigh and you fall apart from her knee. Your hands rub and touch her body, worshiping her body and letting her feel the love she has never had.

Mask: Are their true colors drastically different from how they act around everyone else?

I don’t believe Misty can really mask her feelings or motives. People in the show mention that she has an unsettling presence and that you can always tell when she is around. Misty has an aura about her that spells out all her darker ways before she can even speak. It’s her fatal curse never to be able to mask.

Naughty: How would they punish their darling?

Misty would punish you in many ways. Misty usually uses her angry face to punish most of the time, but she can get physical by spanking you. Misty would get a tight lip, and she would just be wound up until she could explode onto you.

Oppression: How many rights would they take away from their darling?

Who told you that you have rights? Who said Misty had rights? To Misty and your relationship, almost no boundaries or things are entirely your own. Misty completely encompasses your life and is in every part of it. It is completely consuming being together, and it’s addictive to both of you, addicted to finally feeling accepted by someone. Misty doesn’t try to make you uncomfortable or like you can’t have things, but she has some serious control issues.

Patience: How patient are they with their darling?

Misty is very patient with her love because she wants it in return. She doesn’t force too much at once and knows with some experience with you when to push and when to hold back information.

Quit: If their darling dies, leaves, or successfully escapes, would they ever be able to move on?

Misty would simply kill herself. Misty couldn’t handle the idea or the feeling that the only person to accept her and let her be herself completely was gone. Gone forever, Misty couldn’t handle it. Misty would have broken the black box to stay close to you without the world's judgment of being gay or just being able to keep you close.

Regret: Would they ever feel guilty about abducting their darling? Would they ever let their darling go?

Misty would never understand the feeling of guilt. I don’t think Misty has much, if any, empathy and guilt because I believe Misty has some sort of anti-personality disorder. Misty doesn’t like making you feel bad because she can’t handle seeing you upset WITH her. But she doesn’t know much about what she did to make you mad.

Stigma: What brought about this side of them (childhood, curiosity, etc)?

Childhood. These tendencies developed by being labeled weird at a young age and neglected by her family; Misty never felt good enough to have anyone care about her. She wanted to be unique like everyone else who got asked how they were, and people would care about the answer. Misty is bullied throughout elementary, middle, and high school. She would hold onto the person who loves her like it’s her only way to breathe.

Tears: How do they feel about seeing their darling scream, cry, and/or isolate themselves?

Misty hates seeing you cry or distressed because she doesn’t know what to do. It’s like being left with an emotional child that isn’t yours, and Misty doesn’t know how to comfort you when you are crying. Misty is your girl if you need to vent or have comfort and are not crying. Misty will do ANYTHING for you to feel better. She sneaks you ibuprofen when you are in pain and doesn’t tell the others, gives you her servings when you are hungry, and combs your hair out of your face as you rage about someone being a dick to you.

Unique: Would they do anything different from the classic Yandere?

I think Misty fits the Yandere trope very very well. But she is unique in the way that she is Misty. She is so odd and off-putting that it would be hard for her beloved not to notice those moments.

Vice: What weakness can their darling exploit to escape?

Her need to please you. She is a people pleaser broken by years of bullying and neglect. She just wants you to love her and to be loved. Just act like you love her and leave. She will follow you, though.

Wit’s end: Would they ever hurt their darling?

I think the worst thing Misty would do to you is drug you to calm you down. She seems like she would not handle you rejecting her and being distressed. She would just give you something to knock you out.

Xoanon: How much would they revere or worship their darling? To what length would they go to win their darling over?

Misty worships you, but it is not the same as how Lottie worships you. Misty worships the ground you walk on for having the charity for letting her be around you, let alone being able to love you. Misty finds you to be like gold dust in a pan. She finally found what she has been working hard for and living a hard life.

Yearn: How long do they pine after their darling before they snap?

Misty would take years because her insecurities would stop her. Misty is somewhat slow to show that she is attracted to you and in love because you are her only friend. Misty would snap when the reader shows interest in her, and she wouldn’t even think more about it.

Zenith: Would they ever break their darling?

Misty would be clumsy and awkward in her attempt to break you. When Misty is just being herself and loving you the way she does with all of her being, you would just accept it because she is the only person in your life. She worships the ground you walk on.

Yandere Level

10/10 (Misty is the most classic Yandere character I have seen in a Western show so far in my lifelong guilty pleasure of yanderes)

Freedom Level

2/10 (You are not free because Misty knows your every move and will not let you out of her sight, but you can do something behind her back, and she wouldn’t be super angry about it.)

Vanessa ✿ Natalie

#Yellowjackets #yellowjackets x reader #dark!au #Dark! Yellowjackets #dark! Misty Quigley #misty quigley #misty quigley x reader #misty quigley smut

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mtx-lol · 9 months

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scp doodles lol

anyways made some new designs, read more for notes on them, most of them are just references for the future lol

elias shaw (my handwriting's terrible):

•[Amulet's] More pinker to indicate a more "fun" and childish tone

•Host gets a 'shadow face/body' and a neck tracker

•Light does jackshit to it(explained below)

•Messy hair is a side effect for when host is used [for] longer than a month or [a couple of weeks]

•When a light is near them, it actually highlights the scars(that elias earned) and defines features of the host, also their eyes dilates to be exponentially smaller

•Speaking of dilating eyes, they can do that at will like make them big

•The scrawny lines is a part of their design, æthetically, however they become more scrawnier when the host they're using is getting "older" (worn out)

•anyways, they're genderfluid, which means whenever they feel their gender change, they kill some unsuspecting researcher or just a guy off the street and change hosts. they go by any pronouns but prefered pronouns are what host's original gender current are

•scrapbooks their deaths and killings, also stole one of kondrakis empty photo album to store all pictures of his dead bodies and causes of death, for funsies

•can dissappear into the light or darkness, obviously uses it to jumpscare people

thats about it for elias

others;

scp 953;

•her hanbok collor spells out "Blood Hound", idk why i put it there but i thought of that maybe her parents hated her and therefore put that around her neck as a warning sign for anyone else and also to shame her, figuratively putting a noose around her neck to warn her of whats next or whatever idfk. but she wears it with pride cuz she hates everyone

•the lettering is; 블러드 하운드

•she also has a birthmark on her nose

•for future reference, she has muscles :))

cain;

•he actually doesn't have a voice anymore, due to it being stolen or whatever i havent thought of it much anyways lmao, so he signs as a way of communication

•doesn't really like suits :shock:,

•for future reference, his limbs are bronze with tints of platinum (not coloured on doodle) and blue

allison chao;

•her crown is floating and glowing

•shes wearing a civil war esque dress

scp 029;

•flatchested, her clothing usually baggy when she wears one

•muscular, just not detailed in the doodle

•really passive aggressive

talloran(my beloved:)));

•actually in a state of between life and death so they aren't exactly dead but they aren't exactly, alive, theyre an opaque ghost, ig, me thinks

•no they cant float

•suffers from ptsd from scp3999

•and probs other but idk that much so i wont assume and label them whatever

•theyre a fem presenting non binary btws, so dresses and skirts lol

thats it

bye bye :)))

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acaiasahi · 2 years

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✶ losers in love ; choi jiung.

synopsis. just two dumb kids using corny pick up lines because they love each other that much.

info. fluff. choi jiung x gn!reader. 519 words.

warnings. cursing, corny pickup/flirting lines, grammatical and structural errors, storyline = shit, lowercase and smaller text intended!

[ now playing . . . ] losers in love.

you hear a dreamy sigh leave jiung's lips as he watches you study. looking up from your doodle-filled notes, you find him already looking at you, sickeningly sweet smile adorning his soft features.

"do you believe in love at first sight — or should i walk by again?" he asks you, seriousness lacing within his voice, though his goofy smile tells a different story. "that was horrible, never do that again." you deadpan, laughing as his expression turn sour.

letting another giggle leave your lips, you bring the pad of your thumb to the crinkles between his brows before rubbing softly. "i'm just messing with you, you dork" you continue with a twinkle in your eyes.

his frown automatically becomes a knowing grin, his cheeks turn red at how close you two really are. "so pretty," he thinks out loud as he leans in, opting for a soft, fluttering kiss on your lips.

for a second, you feel as if you're flying. fireworks have gone off, you're basically on cloud nine as you pull away from your lover.

you gaze into each other eyes, shy smiles on display as he runs his hands through your messy hair. "it's a good thing we're at the library, because i'm definitely checking you out!" jiung says, a groan leaving the back of your throat.

"did you really need to ruin the moment?" you ask jokingly before turning away from him and back to your notebook. he laughs before leaving a tiny kiss just above your hairline.

giving him the most non-threatening look, he puts his hands up in the air, surrendering. "my bad, sweetheart" he apologizes, playfulness evident in his tone and body language as he goes to hold your hand.

happily taking it, you leave a peck on the back of his hand. "and the fact that we're in a library makes your pick-up line a hundred times worse!" you shoot back before shaking your head in disbelief at how unashamedly open jiung is when it comes to flirting with you.

all he does is shrug, "i can't let my baby know how much i love 'em?" he asks nonchalantly. another scoff leaves your mouth before you shut it completely, thinking of an even cornier rebuttal, if that were possible.

you place a hand on your heart, feigning being hurt. jiung's expression soon turns to one of confusion and worry. "w-what? are you okay?" he asks nervously, placing his hand on your shoulder.

dramatically looking up at him, "is there any chance you have an extra heart lyin' around? mine's been stolen by choi jiung!" you say seriously, throwing your head back in agony, the back of your hand touching your forehead like a damsel in distress.

a soft 'pft' rushes past his lips, rolling his eyes. "oh, stop it. i thought you were seriously hurt!" he whines. you coo at him, "i thought you liked corny pick-up lines, ji?" you say it more of a statement rather than a question.

he shakes his head, "you're lucky that i love you, y/n" you nod at this well known fact, "lucky indeed."

★ piwon taglist. @existnesia ... @seung-scrittore ... @alohajun ... @enhacolor

[ 🎧 ] jaydi's notes. kinda like this one... kinda silly goofy w the writing bc i was talking w ppl while writing this so my brain was like hella jumbled esp since i forgot to take my meds... haha lol... don't be like me!!! take ur meds!!! LOL

#p1harmony #p1harmony imagines #p1harmony drabbles #p1harmony blurbs #p1harmony fluff #p1harmony x reader #choi jiung imagines #choi jiung drabbles #choi jiung blurbs #choi jiung fluff #choi jiung x reader #jiung imagines #jiung drabbles #jiung blurbs #jiung fluff #jiung x reader

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thatgingerswritings · 10 months

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Sweet Notes

Will Byers X Reader

→ He/him pronouns

→ Fluff

Synopsis: As Valentine's day is approaching, you notice a few notes in your locker, and you want to know who's writing them.

Warnings: None :)

A/N: English is not my first language, don't hesitate to point out my mistake so I can get better at writing (and english in general lol). I hope you'll enjoy this fic!

!! REQUESTS ARE OPEN!!

You're staring at the folded sheet in front of you, laying on top of your books. You stood there, completely frozen, your hand halfway between the locker door and the books. 'What the hell is this?' you thought. Frowning your eyebrows, you hesitantly took it and looked both ways before slowly opening it. You stared at the messy -but still pretty- handwriting on the paper, letters forming words, then lines, you figured it was a whole letter. Again, you looked both ways before leaning forward to your locker, making sure no one could read it, though nobody cared enough to try. You began to read each line on the sheet and your cheeks grew redder and redder as you kept reading. The text was a poem about you.

You read it at least three times to be sure you correctly understood what it was about. Yes, it was a four paragraphs long poem about your eyes, your smile, your voice, your laugh...

But before you could get lost in your own head by thinking about who could have written this, the school bell rang in your ears and all the students began hurrying to their classroom. You folded the sheet again and put it in your pocket then slammed your locker's door shut. You walked to your classroom and settled down for your first period. A few seconds later, your friend Jane sat beside you and smiled to you. "Hi [Y/N]! How are you?" she asked. "Hi Jane, I'm good, how about you?" you answered. "Are you sure? You look kind of upset." You felt your cheeks heat up and looked down at your hands, "have you asked someone to be your Valentine and she said no?" she asked. You almost choked on your own saliva and took a few seconds to think of a reaction. Your actual crush was a boy, and her brother to add to that. How could you answer anything else than a heartfelt: "No!"

Your conversation with Jane got cut off by the teacher and class began. When first period ended, you moved to another classroom, doodling in your book during classes was much more interesting than paying attention and this morning was as normal as it could possibly be. Honestly, everything was boring to you today. Even your lunch. You packed your favorite meal this morning and you weren't willing to finish it, it tasted nothing special today. You moved from the cafeteria to your locker to prepare your stuff for the next classes. When you opened the door, another folded paper fell to the ground. You grabbed it rapidly like you were afraid it would burn as soon as it touched the ground. You carefully unfolded it and hid behind your locker door to read the little note. This time it wasn't a text but a messy sketch of you in class. You were the only thing drawn on this paper and the more you stared at it, the redder your cheeks got. Even if the sketch was kind of messy, it was really pretty. The artist caught every feature of your face.

As you were walking outside, you couldn't help but feel really embarrassed for that person. Your heart was already taken and you didn't want to get into a relationship with anyone else, but it didn't seem like he had a crush on you too. You sighed and looked around to see if you could find your friends. You then saw Jane's gestures to catch your attention and walked to her and Will. You sat with them in the grass.

The whole afternoon, you could feel your heart racing in your chest, jumping slightly every time someone called your name. You felt very anxious and couldn't wait for the day to end. When it was finally time to go home, you stopped by your locker to grab a few things for your homework, and when you opened it, you saw a little paper on top of your books. You took it in your hand to read it. It was small and the message was written with thick black letters, probably with a marker. It was a rendezvous. You figured you could go to at least see who it was.

You closed your locker and began to walk to the place indicated on the note. You thought you would just let them talk and then turn them down gently. Whoever it was, you hoped they wouldn't cry, feeling guilty for hurting their feelings. You walked almost ten minutes to an isolated classroom on the other side of the school. You almost got lost in the corridors since you went rarely there but you found the right classroom. You took a deep breath and pushed the door open with your shaky hands. You looked up and you felt like your heart stopped for a second.

He was standing in front of you, fidgeting with his fingers, with red cheeks and a shy smile.

Will.

"Hi," he said with a shy smile while you stood there, dumbfounded. You stayed silent for a moment, Will's smile fading away more and more as seconds passed. When you noticed, you wanted to say something to reassure him, "I... I'm surprised, uh... You left things in my locker, right?" The boy in front of you nodded, "yeah... I know it's a bit weird but, hum..."

"No it's not!" you exclaimed immediately, "I mean, not to me at least... To be honest I was afraid it would be someone else..." you nervously scratched your neck, feeling your cheeks heat up as you realised what you just said. "What..?" Will asked. "Yeah, uh, on my way here I was mentally preparing myself to reject some girl and I was already so uncomfortable-" you stopped talking and put your hand on your face, closing your eyes, "I'm sorry, I don't know why I'm saying that," you walked towards Will, sitting on a desk in front of him. "But it's you," you said with a shrug, smiling at him.

Will laughed, his cheeks reddening lightly. "Does that mean you're willing to listen to me?" You turned your head to him, "yes, I'm listening." Your friend looked at you for less than a second before deflecting his gaze. He started fidgeting with a pen he was holding in his hands, "s-so... I didn't really know how to tell you this, that's why I put the notes in your locker. But, you're the only friend I have here, and uh... For me you're not just a friend, you know? I-I like you. Like, a lot. As in I want to go out with you, a-and I want to be your boyfriend... If you like me that way too, that is..."

When Will looked at you again, he saw your incredulous expression. You were slowly nodding repeatedly, your hands on your crimson cheeks in an attempt to hide them. "... Really?" you asked (rhetorically). You couldn't believe it, even in your dreams you didn't think about Will confessing to you that way, he was significantly cuter at this instant, and you weren't sure of why. "Yes, really," you looked up to see him a bit confused, you forgot you talked out loud. "I- Yes, of course! Yes I like you that way too, and I want to be your boyfriend!" you said with a wide smile, getting up from the desk you were sitting on. You approached Will with open arms. He smiled and hugged you tightly. You could feel his heartbeat against your chest.

You tenderly kissed his cheek, still a bit unused to be this close to him. "I'm so glad it was you who left these notes."

#imagine #male reader #x male reader #x reader #gay #gay mlm #mlm #lgbtqia #will byers #william byers #will x reader #stranger things #noah schnapp

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iloveyouemanuelmarco · 13 days

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[Random William Afton/Dave Miller headcanons for my Five Nights At Freddy's Alternate Universe Fanmade-WebComic Series/Fanfiction Story because my brain cannot stop malfunctioning and making me paranoid and unironically afraid of the dark at night lol(Please note that the ver. of the purple peepaw man himself is based off of the ones from the games and/or books/graphic novels so please keep that in mind- thank you). Also please don't hate me if any of the headcanons I interpret for my comfort au seem to be out of character or something, I understand it can be annoying but if it bothers you just please be gentle about it since I can be somewhat fragile<//3. Oki doki, here I go I guess]:

I sometimes like to imagine that while Henry was more on the imaginative side of things when it came to the animatronics such as the character design and how they would act towards the kids in a party setting to give everyone the best of fun, since William would be more on the technical side of stuff involving blueprints on the construction of the animatronics, I feel like Will' was atleast once a decent artist. What I mean is that William could probably sketch up still-life related drawings in a cool fashion that maybe could of had a noticable signature style to it too even if that said style was more subtle since he would mostly focus on copying the stuff around him and how it looked...I can imagine that he could be very impressive in his talents when it came to sketching objects and animals, maybe even people but I feel like his favourite type of things to draw were probably scenery and nature type settings :3. His more cartoony or unrealistic art-style type doodles would be when he was distracted or bored and needed something to do atleast so he would doodle simple sketches on his paperwork and blueprints without realizing x3.

He prefers everything to be nice and clean, organized and neat but that preference and need for perfection wouldn't stop him from getting super lost in his work and ending up with huge messes of paperwork and other needed supplies that he'd use towards his projects all around his work space. Ofcourse this uncleanliness and unorganized mess would bother him, but it's not like it would matter. The stress would probably be more of a distraction anyway with such lingering Doom always clouding over him<3. He's probably a massive caffeine addict to the point where it's hyoerbolically debilitating, mostly in the form of coffee :P.

I feel like despite his calm and often scary, intimidating demeanor towards others when he needs control and some sort of power over others atleast, he can still be very envious/jealous of others esp his coworker Henry which said state drives him insane in the membrane. He knows his brain shouldn't malfunction in such a way, he knows he needs to stay calm and collected in order to get what he wants, so that all can go according to plan but at the same time...at the same time it's all so crushingly painful that he can't help but be of the verge, the edge of completly snapping into further madness just to destroy everything that gets into his path, to shatter every obstacle out of his way in order to finally get his revenge...revenge in what??I don't know yet, I might have forgotten in my brain's messy blurry loss of memory due to my own stress but just...revenge towards something that would be his own fault atleast. It doesn't make sense though to anyone that is not him. An unfathomable, burning, undying rage and hatred to life and yet he still canonically is scared of death in all it's uncertainty(Huh wait am I projecting again??Goddammit).

(Warning!!>:(:This one goes into the space that is my personal comfort alternate universe fan-story so please don't hate me if it doesn't make sense to you, I am probably gonna explain it more in better detail later QwQ): He has memory issues due to both stress and old age, but he still has enough storage in his brain's memory space to know that he was born somewhere around February though Rose(my self-insert for this cringeworthy tale of OCxCanon fanfiction plot atleast)always bugs him to celebrate it on Valentines Day since she likes the idea of him being born on that day and gifting him the anime drawings she attempts to make in her spare time.

By the way, that reminds me, in my Fnaf alternate universe comfort story, William, Henry and Rose are roommates in a vintage-inspired older built house that's not in Utah(Don't ask why yet, I'm still planning stuff out!!>:]). They mostly were able to get the house through the nightguards(again, they're apart of the story too but I'm gonna explain it later when I get a better chance to in the future), who live near the town they're apart of. Something something about wanting a brand new start and thinking that maybe going somewhere away from all the disasterousnes would be better for all of them, something it was mostly Henry and Rose's idea...yes.

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evilspiritweek · 27 days

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Hi! First of all, wanted to say that you are wonderful for still doing some little fun stuff for RC9GN fandom! I can't say how much I appreciate seeing the activity in the tag from you! Thank you.

Now, the reason I'm sending an ask, is I have a few suggestions/ideas that I wondered you might be interested to hear? If not, feel free to ignore this! ;D its totally cool.

You mentioned in the DTIYS post that you might be getting busy since the break is ending, and it got me thinking, maybe DTIYS could be extended for other artists? Like, if you are busy that week, or do not have an idea for DTIYS (or just dont feel like it, we all have those days lol), you can do a sort of 'feature artist for the week' to do a DTIYS drawing? I understand there might be a contacting/scheduling problem with that idea, but you can always just make a post/notice and see if anyone wanted to do this/next week DTIYS.

If you are worried about the complexity of the featured art, you can also make a list of requirement for DTIYS (like, only a single character, no/little background, props, themed and etc), so it would be relatively similar for everyone?

It also will give you an opportunity to participate in DTIYS too rather than just make it, if you wanted to! I kinda feel bad that you seem to do all the work, even if I know that you are doing it from love to this fandom haha.

Another idea I wanted to offer/discuss is the polls! I actually thought poll/episode bracket idea was a fun one, but i know its not the most favorite one. However, maybe it could be sorta implemented in DTIYS? Maybe a poll for a character/theme/episode-related idea for DTIYS people would want to see next week? It doesn't have to be constant polls every week, maybe just occasional if you do not feel particularly inspired that week, it could give you an idea?

I know that you started these new smaller events, because they were less stressful and urgent than prompt week/month, but still fun enough to engage with! If these ideas seems like too much worry/work, I totally get it.

Anyway, I wish you a good day! Thanks for reading.

(also ur art is ridiculously adorable ok bye)

Sorry for the delayed response!! You wrote a lot of good points and I wanted to make sure I addressed them all <3

The post was getting a bit long, so it's under cut. TL;DR I think I'm going to treat this year as a test run and then create a more formal one for next year! That will involve a Google Forum probably(?), but do note that one of the questions will be on a specific date. One problem I've found with events is the time they take place. Not planning on moving Ninjavember's month, but that for example is sandwiched between October/Inktober and December/Holidays/Finals, so it can get busy. Considering this is a new event, I want to give people in the fandom currently the freedom to kinda pick and choose when this might be done.

I think extending the DTIYS event idea to other artists is a great idea! I know that I started this rather suddenly without warning, so people weren't given a sooner notice, but if I do this again, I can perhaps create a forum for people to submit things to or have people submit things here. Nothing super formal (because organizing that might get messy), but that way it can feel a bit more like a community event :D

For this event, I'm kinda sort of just drawing by the week, so if anyone wants to submit stuff now, that's totally fine too! Worst case is we have more than 5 by the end of April, and that's definitely not a bad thing lol

As for complexity of DTIYS prompts, I wanted to keep it varied for fun, but I also think focusing on simple doodles is fine. At least then, it gives people more of chance to focus on their style first rather than figuring out how to draw a car or something (bane of my existence)

I also like your idea for polls, and perhaps if we do a more formal one for this next year, we can implement that.

#NOTE: there's also a possibility this is justa one time thing #the downside of being in a small fandom womp womp #still though. these are fun to organize imo #totally appreciate the thorough message!#feedback is always good!!#long post #anon #ask #rambles

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yurissweettooth · 11 months

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My Typical Art Process✨🌈

Was gonna reply to anon with this, but figured it was a bit too unrelated so I'll make a separate post! I do kinda wanna share my process anyway for anyone curious. I made something similar for twitter once but I no longer use twitter and my style has changed since then so here's a new one!

Tl;dr I draw for fun only and I have learned that textures and overlays and post-processing can do a LOT when it comes to making something look more "complete" while also not taking a lot of additional time. This is just my personal style spawned from my laziness and my love of harsh colors😆

I'll put it below the cut because it's long!

So to begin with, when I doodle (as opposed to a proper drawing that I take my time on) this is my typical "lineart":

I just draw the… what do you call it? The under parts… Like the circle and shapes, etc. to get the pose. Then lower the opacity and do another sketch on top of that. Then I lower the opacity of that and do ANOTHER sketch on top. 😆 I do that as many times as necessary until it looks like something. I don't worry a ton about anatomy or messiness or stray lines, it's just for fun to get an idea out of my head :)

Sometimes I also leave the under-sketches in or sometimes I turn the layer off. For this one I left them in.

Then I turn on all my textures, overlays, and H/S/L correction layer and crank the saturation up. The selected colorful layer was something I made once and saved it as an image material so I can just slap it on any time as an overlay. You will see it in almost all of my art, she's my beloved crutch and also I just like it lol. Other than that, I sometimes use paper textures that CPS came with and sometimes I make a perlin noise layer with the smallest grain size and set it to 'soft light'.

I also have recently been using a manga screentone overlay that comes with CSP.

Then I start coloring underneath!

This is how it looks without all of the blinding colors and textures I put there to distract you from the mess lol

Even in ones where I DO put in effort and try to use better anatomy and clean up a lot of the scribbles I pretty much never use clean lineart simply because I cannot be bothered 🤷🏾‍♂️ I don't really do anything different here, I just spend more time one it:

Also, even then the overlays and textures do a lot of the heavy lifting. Some of the overlays and effects I draw myself like the rainbow boarders around them and of course the doodle hearts. I don't draw backgrounds very often but I don't like an empty background so overlays or little doodles or text effects typically go there.

I should also mentions that I use the lightroom mobile app to further enhance all of my art, as shown above in the before and afters. I don't really have much to say on this point. I used to use lightroom mobile a lot when I did doll photography and I pretty much just wing it based on what I learned doing that. I like to mess with the texture settings and do masking edits to change the foreground and background independently to get better color balances. Like a bozo I pay for the subscription but I bet you could use any old editing app.

Oh, and I do pretty much everything with these brushes here. I got them a while back when they were free for 48 hours but unfortunately they are no longer free and cost 80 clippy now :( Should also warn you that they saturate any color and idk how to stop it from doing that so I just adjust the color accordingly before using or edit in post. Very nice though!!

Some other (free) things I like and use a lot:

Warm color set

Watercolor paper texture (free)

Cloud brushes

Watercolor auto action

Real paper textures

Prism brushes

Freckle brush

Aaaaand that's basically it!

#eye strain tw #we do not discuss my 100+ layers...#long post #artists on tumblr #digital art #jun rambles

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autisticenbydonnie · 1 year

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Heya ! I'm egg 🥚!! welcome!! info in bio :3

[so...]

sometimes i draw, but i mostly rb posts-

Warning !! im an adult so i post about adult stuff, nothing sexual but gore and weed mostly lol !!

i try my best to tag properly, but if i do miss a post feel free to message me about it :)

here's my Secret Drawing Box! if ya wanna send me doodles !!

and heres my 800+ DTIYS (no deadline) if ya wanna participate :3

Remember! DONT watch ROTTMNT and TOTTMNT on Paramount+ free palestine !!

[icon here]

more under cut

Fuck off <3

(honestly, this is less a DNI and more of a "I will block you if I see you interacting with my blog'... Thing.)

you're under 16*

you're a "MAP"/pedophile

you're a racist/homophobic/transphobic/a bigot in general

you're a radfem/terf/swerf

you're a truscum/transmedicalist

You're a tcest/incest shipper

*(minors DON'T dm me, full stop. ty ♡)

Tags

egg doodles - my art, most of it is messy and a lot of it is of my oc whoops

egg wips - my WIPs

egg/donnie talks - my word salad, sometimes its drawing ideas, sometimes its some headcanons and sometimes I'm just being a goof

egg got an ask - answered asks

egg polls - polls lmao

(I'll come back to this time to time if info changes or I want to add something 💜💚)

#pinned post #pinned dni #pinned bios #introduction #introducing myself #rottmnt//#egg talks #ig #update: made it look nicer and added a well needed warning oop-

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villainship · 2 years

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[& We Won't Always Be So Lucky, But We Were Once]

Young Zahied, recovering from being injured in the field, has very bad new memories but a very good husband at his side. (Follows after the scenes in these doodles)

This is possibly the longest fic I've shared here.

I. . . I told myself I'd write a cute scene of the domestic couple dynamics between him & his husband, w/ fish-kissing. In spite of that goal, it immediately veered SUPER dark before I got it turned around.

GENERAL Content Warning: very bad memories = flashback to overly realistic violence in the intro of the fic. (Specific content warning under the read-more)

- Specific content warnings - Violence: grievous facial injury from the firsthand perspective, with secondhand, traumatized-military-person perspective of other soldiers' nearby deaths (and the bad-brain time of ensuing, unmanaged survivor's guilt). It’s not that gory, but again: the mood is Dark. Shipping intimacy: yes there IS kissing & mush in the same story. Shirts are off before 'fade to black' at the end, with explicit follow-up 100% implied—but nothing more. Giving them -some- privacy. Lol

ANYWAY...!

What a life he had, barely 30 yrs old (if even. My timelines are indistinct; he might be under 30).

---

It’d been three weeks since the ambush that had him sent home from the front.

Three weeks since a separatist grenade had been lobbed into that small, grey building the Republic used as a watchpost. The spray of plasma and superheated shrapnel in an enclosed space was more than a match for the average, light-duty armor of three guards.

His colleagues who took the brunt of the blast hadn’t survived: neither the woman at the door, who tried to call for them to take cover, nor the man in the chair next to his. He, like Zahied, had removed his helmet for their meal break.

Zahied was the lucky one.

His ears still rang sometimes, and occasionally his right eye showed strobing spots in his vision. White pulses and persistent shadows. His reflex to raise his arm may have helped him keep from being blinded altogether. The body of the other soldier at the table had also sheltered him from some of the heat and debris of the blast.

At the time, he had only known the panic of liquid fire coating the side of his face. His arm was smoking—burning. The soldiers with him: both were burning. One moving along the floor, the other collapsed—barely twitching. Bleeding out. The floor was burning.

Blasters fired from the street. Body halfway out the door, the crawling soldier finally lay still. Zahied didn’t recall his own escape as clearly as he remembered her bolt-scorched helmet and the outline of that doorway.

He knew he had staggered to the back room; he shut the door between him and the flames. Already they had faded from piercing blue to molten yellow. Every surface fuel had touched, the sizzling and sparking tested for something to feed on. The smoke had the smell of a battlefield: chemical fumes and the burning dead.

He had put out the fire on his arm with his bare hand, apparently. His palm was blistered and bloodied. He didn’t chance the back door (in his mind’s eye was a helmet, and the echo of a gunshot).

It wasn’t long—it hadn’t felt like enough time to think of what else to do—before he heard the sounds of a skirmish flowing in the other direction, replaced by voices shouting in concern. He answered. Geared-up troopers rushed inside, getting him clear of the building before they brought in fire extinguishers.

He had walked himself to medical. There was nothing wrong with his legs. Nothing badly wrong with him, overall—though the injuries had looked messy, on the... face... of it.

It didn’t feel fair to feel sorry for himself, when he’d survived. But he remembered thinking about the photos from his wedding. It was good they made time to get married before this happened.

Half his face still looked like it’d been turned inside-out; the color and texture of someone’s guts, much pinker and paler than his cheek should be. It was healing fine. The bandages were mostly gone. That was why he, and everyone else, could have a good look at the raw, ragged patches that were still too glossy and surrounded by uncomfortable swelling.

He’d started taking less painkillers. That’s why he was awake now.

Lying on the pullout bed in the living room, reflecting on all that led here. Wondering, again, what the rest of his unit had been dealing with while he had been in the care of med droids and his anxious husband.

He smiled a little to think of Nathuur, who had heard the news ahead yet still turned weepy-eyed the instant he caught sight of him swathed in bandages at the hospital. They had both cried, of course. It was a grim cause for a reunion, and there’d been a lot of emotions to process.

Those kept him awake, too.

He was full of relief to be home: to be with his husband, to be safe, to be alive and (relatively) healthy. He was guilty to be home. To be safe.

Alive and well—far from the dangers that had marked him.

This didn’t feel like the place he should be. He wasn’t badly injured. It was fortunate, but it made a bad excuse for three weeks of rest.

The separatist attacks had been growing more frequent and aggressive before the one he was caught up in. What about now? No one could offer much of an update. He had a holo-call or a note here and there, wishing him well—(there was a potted plant from the Gunner girlfriends sitting on the windowsill; they’d been guests at the wedding, not so long ago)—but of course security concerns limited the details.

Besides: no one wanted to see him preoccupied about work. Not-knowing might not do much to stop him from worrying, but they must have hoped it would help. He didn’t fault them for trying.

“You’re awake, Lover-guy?” A familiar voice, muffled-sounding, with a bit of a rasp and a distinctive squeaky pitch, spoke quietly out of the dark.

Nathuur.

It was impressive that he hadn’t heard his selkath husband coming down the hall. His feet were huge, his legs weren’t long, and the massive, fluffy slippers he wore around the house never did much to make him quieter.

Either being hit by an explosive did more damage to his hearing than he knew, or Zahied must have been very lost in his thoughts.

He could hardly make out the shape of his husband’s silhouette (the pattern of glow-in-the-dark spaceships and planet designs on his pyjamas gave a hint), but he knew Nath’s vision was better. He’d see the in-house patient sit up against the back of the couch, adjusting in his bedcovers.

He might be able to see Zahied’s half-smile. “I’m awake. Why are /you/ up?”

“Snacks.” The shuffle of comfy slippers approached his bedside first, instead of carrying on to their kitchen. “I get hungry with a baby on the way.”

Zahied laughed readily, no matter how many times Nathuur made fun of stereotypes of ‘the human experience’. “You’re going to miss messing with people about that when it hatches.”

“I really am...” He sounded like he was smiling, too, as he sat himself on the edge of the mattress, then left his slippers behind to pull his feet up. “The faces people make when they’re thinking really hard about questions they know they shouldn’t ask—Ha.”

As Nathuur shifted closer to him, Zahied made space for them to be side-by-side, moving carefully into position to put an arm around his shoulders and pull him into an embrace. “You’ll find something else to short-circuit them.”

Nath, conspiratorial in his chuckling, gently bumped Zahied’s chin with the dome of his head. “Can you believe we could turn into parents any day now?”

Short, thick arms wrapped around his torso, but the pressure in Zahied’s chest felt like it was coming from something else.

He hated the idea of crying again, just now. To avoid it, he’d have to start thinking of something other than his emotions about being reunited like this: holding his favourite person in this galaxy again. Being held.

Thinking of the near arrival of their firstborn wasn’t /less/ likely to make him well-up in tears, but at least there was elation and excitement he could focus on. Some nervousness.

Instead of turning his face to Nathuur in the dark, he stared towards the window to his right, where light from the street filtered in as soft yellow lines at the edges of the frame and between the shutters. “I can’t believe it.” He patted his hand on Nath’s shoulder. “No one else will, either, when they see me taking a baby selkath on a walk.”

“That would be close-minded of them.” Nathuur laughed again.

Zahied smiled again, making his beard and mustache feel crooked while he was avoiding too much movement on the scabby, pock-marked side of his face.

They could feel each other breathing. He got the impression Nathuur might be listening to the beat of his heart. And then his husband drew away enough to look him over again.

“Zahied—”

He heard the start of a question, but it was too much to resist kissing him on the flat of his nose, amid the patches and flecks of color that became a larger, bolder pattern further up his forehead.

Nathuur’s nose wrinkled (...which was also adorable), but the twitching of his whiskers suggested he was still smiling.

“—ah. You know that tickles.”

“I’m sure it does.”

He couldn’t help but laugh longer when his husband’s reprisal was to nose under his ear, taking nibbling bites at the side of his neck. It was a successful tactic to make Zahied squirm. “What were you going to ask—?”

Nathuur set his chin to rest on his human spouse’s shoulder, stuck with a face full of his loose, long hair. Not bothered by it, apparently.

“Do you really want to go back?”

They both knew the answer. They’d been over the question many times—though he never resented that Nathuur would ask again. There had been times his dedication wavered. This was one of them.

“Yes,” he said, nonetheless.

“OK.”

Nathuur never resented the cause he’d chosen. When they met, he was already a soldier of the Senate: trying to protect the peace and the people of the Republic.

Zahied had never needed enthusiasm or support for his career from the kind and gentle-hearted man he loved—the acknowledgement of the choice was enough.

And his acceptance: Nathuur didn’t look for an apology when the answer hadn’t changed.

What he DID look for was a nuzzle against Zahied’s face (thankfully there was still one side safe to rub against), which was accompanied by the quiet, trilling sound of Nathuur consoling him (or himself...).

Those kind of noises always sounded not-quite-right out of water. It was usually the selkath who had to make accommodations in their inter-species partnership, favoring the one who couldn’t survive an airless environment. Zahied just had to compromise with humid conditions in shared accommodations—which was why he had to sleep on the guest bed while his skin was healing: it was too damp in their room.

“I’ll miss you,” the soldier admitted, which was something they also knew.

“It’ll freak me out if you get hurt again.” Nathuur met his hand to hold it, looking him in the eye again. His attitude had the sadness, and the relief, of seeing him go through something bad which could’ve been much worse. “—I love you.”

“Same here.” Zahied squeezed the hand in his. For the sake of stroking the top of Nathuur’s glossy-soft head, he lifted his right arm. The motion still brought twinges of pain where he felt thin skin and new scar tissue stretched too tight—but with Nath smiling at him like that, it was easy to tune out anything else.

Zahied mirrored the warmth in his expression, returning a softer smile.

Those were his truths: he loved him—he’d miss him—he needed to go back.

If he couldn’t always be with him, at least they had each other now.

He kissed Nathuur again lightly—this time on the ridge of his brow. One finger of his right hand followed the same line above his eye, then skimmed down to the tendril twitching again on the left side of that teal-toned face.

“Are you still hungry—?”

Nathuur raised his eyes again, which had just started to get sleepy-looking a moment ago. He caught Zahied’s slow tone, and he recognized the coaxing of the finger and thumb teasing his whisker.

“I’ll put it off.”

Nathuur palmed his chest, with Zahied laughing faintly. He made the hasty motions to unbutton his own baggy, well-worn sleep shirt, welcoming familiar hands: long-fingered and extremely strong; unfailingly gentle.

He could immediately get lost in having Nathuur’s hands move over his skin, but before he did he wanted to stroke his own fingers against the bony ridge at the back of his husband’s head, watching him slowly close his eyes. He drew the touch forward after that, running fingertips toward the front of Nathuur’s throat, then underneath his jaw while he kissed him on the mouth. “—This is the medicine I needed: cute face to kiss.”

“I’m here to help.” Nathuur struck a coy pose with a tilt of his head, then re-examined Zahied while he copied the gesture of petting at his neck. “YOUR face is a mess, but it's still sexy. Maybe more sexy. You look like you fought a huge, ferocious squid or something.”

“Hell—is that what they’re into on Manaan? I need to read more selkath romance novels.”

“Who ISN’T kinda weak for the brave warrior type?”

“Oh?”

“—haha, I got you blushing.”

Nathuur was right, whether he could actually /see/ the flush of Zahied’s face or if he was only guessing. “I’m personally more attracted to the friendly, charismatic kind of guy,” he argued, “And great Dad material, you know? The ones who take care of people.”

The subject of his flattery was probably not blushing, though he enjoyed it. Nathuur started playing with Zahied’s hair between his fingers, chuckling at his comeback—and at the way he shivered. “A homebody? Sounds boring.”

“Not when they take you to bed,” Zahied sighed, letting his eyes fall closed. “They really know how to—Mm!”

Nathuur, with another laugh—more like a giggle—had begun to drag him insistently down the bed. When he had him flat on his back again, his chosen ‘homebody’ descended to more nibbling and teasing, flicking licks of his tongue up and across Zahied’s neck and throat, then at his upper lip.

A little breathless, his next plea came as a soft moan. Wordless anticipation. The awareness of everything he had missed about being back in loving arms, and how desperate his desire was now that they finally had a chance to engage in long-delayed intimacy.

Nathuur found his left hand and nipped gently at his fingertips, then brought Zahied’s inner wrist to his mouth for kissing, cupping the human’s shorter, five-fingered hand between his palms: big and smooth.

In turn, Zahied kissed the knuckle of Nathuur’s middle finger (the only one between thumb and 'pinky'). He smiled again, flush-faced. “Lick anything except the side of my face or this other arm, along here, and I think we’re good.”

“Anything and everything?” Nathuur teased, eyes raised to his face before skimming over the rest of him.

Zahied stretched out playfully, making another breathless sound as they exchanged a grin. “Whatever you want. All yours.”

He felt Nath’s hand move to lay on the top of his head, and felt as the tip of his tongue delicately touched to the bridge of his nose. A very light, slightly clumsy kiss found approximately the same spot.

There was a bandage there, but Zahied didn’t feel the cut underneath it enough to flinch, not even with selkath mouth-shape-related awkwardness as a hazard. He was too full of warmth, preoccupied with Nathuur’s presence: his husband’s hip warm against his side, his chest over Zahied’s. Those goofy, soft-feeling pyjamas meeting his bare skin where Nath leaned close. He snuck his fingers to the edge of the shirt and started to unbutton from the bottom up.

Nathuur sat back to let him, beaming down at him.

Zahied lowered his eyes, shyly dodging his gaze. “How’d I get lucky enough to have you,” he murmured, unavoidably aware of how close they had come to never having had this moment—to him never making it back to the family they would have together, soon.

“Haha. Yeah, the love lottery.”

He cracked a grin that did hurt the still-healing side of his face.

Nathuur stroked fingertips at his forehead, feeling through the hair at the edges of his hairline, looking proud of himself.

“That’s one way to make it sound cheesy as hell.” Zahied finished freeing the last button, petting down the loose fabric at Nathuur’s chest once more before letting him wiggle his shoulders free.

“OK—“ Holding the shirt over an arm, Nathuur climbed down from Zahied’s temporary bed. “If you’re thinking like I’m thinking, you should probably come with me.”

“But I was so warm here, and so /dry/,” he protested insincerely, teasing Nathuur while eagerly moving to follow him at the same time.

“You’re gonna need a whole shower anyway, with what I’ve got in mind.”

“Oh—the licking.”

Nath’s laughter led toward the hall, where he flicked the light switch to help them both find their way. “Well, yeah. And lube. You’ve got nothing below the waist that’s bandaged-up, so...”

Excitement hit like a buzz at the base of his neck, flooding warmth to his face. Now he was sure that Nathuur could have seen him blush, even if his complexion camouflaged it, and—as he realized in a passing thought—even if his right cheek was going to be red all over for a while, until it fully healed.

He finished taking his own shirt off carefully: the unhurt side first, then the patched one.

When they reached the door of the bedroom Nathuur turned and opened his arms to Zahied, who leaned into them and met his shorter husband for a hug that would let him rest his head against his heart again.

Nathuur tilted his face up to bump his nose softly at Zahied’s bearded chin like a prompt.

Zahied answered with a small, fond laugh, and by running his hand along Nathuur’s shoulder to the central ridge along the back of his neck.

In the area beneath the base of his skull and his jaw, the skin of a selkath was a texture unlike a human’s: it was finely wrinkled, loose and thin—and sensitive to being stroked gently.

While Nath relaxed, leaning his weight into the hug, Zahied’s other hand sought the button by the door, opening the hatch to the climate-controlled space of their room. “You’re right. Should be worth it.”

#*Zahied #*Nathuur #a space trooper and his fish husband #raikari writes

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collocoils · 5 months

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never thought i'd make a tumblr, but here we are. expect lots of rambling, messy doodles, random variety stuff, and whatever i'm interested in to show up here it may also be a tonal trainwreck so uh be warned lol also i have no idea how this site works atm

#deez #nuts #i will be suffering to adapt to the terminology here forever oh god #okay but at least i get cool css editing that i won't know how to do completely #no seriously there's gonna be complete and total tonal whiplash i go from silly to rabid and back constantly but not in the bipolar way-wai #am i bipolar? i never got this checked but i don't think i really fit under the umbrella there #anyways test out the message feature for me i'm bored

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imagine--if · 2 years

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I got so excited when I found out that you were writing for Barry!Joker, and i lovedd your last fic! Could you do a part 2 in which Barry! Joker gets those 5 minutes alone with his girl.

A/N: Yasss 🃏 the amount of people who wanted this is InSaNe, I'm so glad you're all enjoying it 🥰 Look out for the last part (breaking outta Arkham) tomorrowwww Thanks for all the likes and asks, keep them coming!! 200 follower milestone 🥳 should I make a fluff prompt list in celebration? Been thinking about it lol but idk you tell me 😊

Pairing: Keoghan!Joker x reader (The Batman 2022)

Warnings: The Batman spoilers?? Hella crazy love 🖤 the reader's a lil crazy hehe

Words: 924

"He wants to see you."

You look up from inside your cell, doodling on the walls with chalk. Everything's so bleak and boring here, so it was pretty much your job to liven it up a little. You haven't been here for too long - a good few months, maybe - and soon you'd be out, back in the streets of Gotham, to do what you do best.

It's Batman. His stoic glare is fixed on you, deep brown eyes shielding his emotions, lips a straight line. You smile, raising a brow.

"Who? Be specific."

"You know who," Batman responds coldly. "I need information, and the Joker refuses to share it without seeing you."

"Mm," you consider, "it has been a while. You're kind of mean, you know, keeping a couple separated. Just because you don't have a lover-"

"That's not it," Batman snaps. "You two kill people. They need to keep order."

"How's that going for them?"

Batman holds his breath in annoyance, letting it out slowly. "Do you want to see him or not?"

You put the chalk down, offering him your hands. "C'mon, then."

He takes a few steps back, and a few guards approach your cell door, hesitant. One of them meets your eye worriedly, and you flick your hand at him, to which he jumps at. You grin.

Batman rolls his eyes, prompting them to hurry up, and after the sound of several locks twisting and snapping, the door swings open. A guard rushes over to cuff you, and you sigh, looking over at Batman questioningly.

"Really?"

"Don't try anything," Batman warns, and you give him an innocent shake of the head as your led down the maze of hallways. It's a wonder they don't put a bag over your head. This place is ridiculous, and if anything, it only encourages the insane to go madder.

The interrogation room is around the corner, and Batman stops as you approach the doors that lead to it, sceptical.

"You gonna move?"

The Batman glares at you, signalling to the guards to hold you for a moment before entering himself, keeping the door open with one hand.

"Don't try anything," He repeats to the Joker, and his response is a familiar laugh. Then the Batman nods to the guards, who seem even more terrified now, actually agreeing to the main thing they were trying to avoid.

Reuniting the Joker with his queen.

Your smile widens when you see him, messy green hair and blue eyes that are so easy to overlook when you focus on the pale scars and bloody smile. To everyone else, he's horrifying, both the things he does and the way he looks, but to you? No, he looks like familiarity, an unsafe safety who's ready to bomb the world if your life depended on it.

His blue gaze softens sightly, in a way only you can notice, and he grins, waving at you, metal chains that keep his wrists linked jingling.

"Hiya, dolly."

"Hi," You reply, smiling, before looking behind you at the guards. "You guys gonna stay here the whole time?"

"Go," Batman tells them, a firm hand leading you further inside the room. "Five minutes. I'm staying."

You scoff lightly. "Rude. He's jealous, you know."

The Joker chuckles, his eyes shifting to look at Batman. "Ah, of course he is. I got to you first."

Batman stops himself from snapping back, glancing at the clock impatiently.

"What have you been up to in the nuthouse, queenie? Having fun?"

You shrug, shaking your head. "It's boring without you."

Joker smiles thoughtfully, leaning in closer to the glass partition. "Hm. Well, nothing like this lasts forever, now does it? And when we get out-"

"You won't get out," Batman interrupts, causing the Joker to stop and give him a pointed look.

"When we get out," He repeats, turning his attention back to you, "you know what I'll do, huh?"

You shake your head, humouring him. "What'll you do?"

"Whatever you like, queenie," J giggles. "Y'know, I miss not waking up to that beautiful smile of yours. Or watching you beat up the cavalry with a rifle you don't even fire. It's just bam, bashing their skulls in with it like a bat in- instead of just shooting..."

His laughter makes him stop in mid-sentence, and you can't help laughing along with him. It's contagious, his laughter, a sound you'd missed for a while.

"Thirty seconds left," Batman says, arms folded.

"He loves us really," You joke.

"Yeah, course- c'mere, doll-"

Batman's attention is off of you two for a few fleeting moments, the guards talking to him frantically, trying to keep their voices quiet as they protest to the meeting. You quickly go over, and he pushes something small over through the metal slider between the two sides of the interrogation room. You grab it without looking, hiding it under your sleeve. Joker winks at you with another grin, and you smile back, before the guards take your arms and take you out of the room.

"Are you ready to cooperate now?" Batman asks him, and the Joker signals for him to hand the files over.

Meanwhile, you're back in your room, waiting for the guards to leave before you check what it was that J gave you.

It's a lockpick, with a cell number written on one shiny side in dark green, a date that's only a few days away on the other, half a dozen x's underneath it.

You muffle a giggle under your hands, and hide the lockpick again, waiting patiently.

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