#probably a concept that needed more fine tuning but what can I say. sometimes I just fly off the handle and draw without enough planning lo | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

windvexer · 2 years

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Write any spell for anything (beginner's edition)

This is a general overview of the technique I've been using for years. YMMV.

1, Write down your spell goal somewhere. This shouldn't be worked over into a perfect statement of intent. Just keep it on hand to keep yourself focused on the goal.

2 a. Make a short list of what materials you have on hand. Such as:

3 tea lights

1 incense stick

shoe box

kitchen spices

salt

If making a list of ingredients isn't working for you, try this method instead:

2 b. Make a list of the kinds of spellcasting you're familiar with or comfortable trying out, such as:

Candle magic

Knot magic

Servitors

Spirit petitions

Once you find a couple of methods that seem likely candidates for you, go back to 2a and look for anything that would supplement your chosen styles of spellcasting.

Your likely candidates are styles of spellwork you're comfortable/familiar with, for which you also have available ingredients and items needed to complete the working.

3. Settle on a pool of ingredients - some research may be required.

Suppose your spellcasting goal is to find an ideal room mate. You are probably not going to find ingredients that correspond with great room mate.

Sometimes, breaking down a spell goal into its composite parts is necessary in order to find supportive correspondences. What things make a room mate great? Maybe for you, that means a lot of peace and calm - and there are a lot of things out there which correspond with peace and calm.

This is also where you might need to sit down and do some good ol Googling, or reference your books and notes.

You don't need to choose your final ingredients or components at this time.The goal is to just get to a place where we have our methodology of spellcasting (is it a candle spell? a petition? etc) and a pool of components we can start focusing on.

For me, step 3 has a lot of back-and-forth. I may realize that none of my kitchen spices support what I want, or that I don't have the right colored thread to do knot magic with.

Sometimes, I have to go back to the drawing board and say, "okay, I wanted to do a lavender candle spell to draw in a peaceful room mate - now I think I'm going to have to make a messenger thoughtform to stuff inside of a Mercury-themed sachet."

For me, it is much more important to think outside the box and build a stable spell using really supportive correspondences, than to try and make unsupportive correspondences match a spell concept that isn't panning out.

4 a. In Step 1, we chose a general spell goal. Now that we're getting a grasp on methodology and components, we can fine-tune our intent to match what materials we have on hand.

A lavender candle spell for a good room mate might have the intent,

sweetest herb, calming vibes, let no thot be at my side; wash away those unwanted guests, let my new room mate only be the best.

A messenger thoughtform housed inside of a Mercurial vessel might have the intent,

racing steed, search far and wide, bring the best one to my side: a room mate as described within, perfect down to my smallest whim.

(inside the sachet, of course, is a small petition describing the desired qualities of the room mate).

At this time in my practice I'm really not a fan of very straightforward present-tense "I HAVE A GOOD ROOM MATE" statements of intent.

After all, if an intent is a spell ingredient, it isn't blindly interchangeable 😌

4 b. This is also now the time to choose some specifics of how you want to work over the spell and have it manifest.

Do you have timing considerations? Maybe my racing steed thoughtform takes 3 months to find the room mate I want, causing a stupid chain of events where I get a shitty room mate and they're evicted to make room for the new one.

I find that many spells work better if they are not set-and-forget. Container spells may be shaken or interacted with on a regular basis, for example. Candle spells can be burned a little each day instead of all at once. Servitors can be spoken to, encouraged, and fed on a daily basis.

How often do you want to interact with your spell? How do you want it to manifest?

Do you want to receive signs or omens that your spell is manifesting? What should they be?

This is the time to think about those things.

4 c. Ensure that all the components you've chosen, and your intent, match the exact outcomes you desire.

For example, a very heavily earthen spell with tons of earthy and Saturnine energies (lead, many stones, equilateral crosses, symbols of earth) isn't going to go fast - I mean, I don't believe it will. These components are a bad combination with a spell which must manifest rapidly. Just because something corresponds with your goals doesn't mean it's going to correspond with your specific, spell-attuned intent.

Do you need the spell to move quickly? Inclusion of a single candle to "light the way" during your spell will do things like include fiery energies which encourage rapid speed and movement towards manifestation. Or, things like symbols and squares of Mercury, or representations of fast-moving animals, will help.

Do you need a spirit or god to hear your petition? If you can't bring them into your spellcasting space, incense is said to deliver prayers to the otherworld.

And so on :)

5. Drop the extras. The spell is ready when there is nothing left to exclude.

At this point in the process, I hope to have a few things:

My spellcasting methodology (knot magic, candle spell, petition, etc).

A few correspondences that I've researched or built a relationship with, that I'm confident will help.

A finely-tuned intent that combines my goals, methodology, and correspondences.

Now, I begin looking over things and dropping what doesn't help.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not a spell minimalist. I might stuff a petition card full of every magical symbol that will fit in it. I might decide that yes, I do need 7 herbs with very similar correspondences and ask them all to do the exact same thing.

However, here are some things to keep an eye on:

Ingredients that split spell focus. If your intent has too many conjunctions, it might be time to split some things off and make them into their own spell.

Time and energy cost - I'm one of those people who believe you have to work over every single ingredient - awaken it or raise power into it - and individually petition every ingredient to do something specific.

And that takes time and energy. A spell with 9 unawakened, mundane ingredients may easily take over an hour to cast because I have to essentially go through and enchant every single ingredient before it's ready, and leave me so worn out that the rest of the spell might have to be postponed.

If I've been a clever bean and enchanted a lot of my stuff ahead of time, that's less of a problem. But I expect most of us are not that prepared. So it may actually be a huge help to drop out very similar correspondences, especially if you don't know them well and don't know exactly what they're adding.

6. Finalize the spell based on the vibes

I like to write a clean copy of the spell (as at that point I've scribbled through a few pages of notes, at least) and see how it feels to me. I like to check my body for emotions. Does this spell tickle my tummy? Does it tingle the soles of my feet? Does it blossom a pit of dread into my chest?

How I feel about it is very important to me. I also double-check that my final statement of intent is still in-line with my original goal I laid out in Step 1. Sometimes I can be like a hound dog chasing down an amazing spell, until I realized I've caught a fox instead of a rabbit.

If the spell feels good, if it's what I want and need, and if the details (like manifestation timeline) are taken care of, I call it good and get to casting :)

#witchblr #spellcasting #spell theory #witchcraft 101 #beginner witch #witch tips #grimoire #spellbook #book of shadows

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hanazuma-inactive · 3 years

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safe in his arms, (nsfw) hawks x reader

pronouns: he/him (FEMALE ORIENTED DNI!)

warnings: nothing much other than a cumming inside it's pretty soft sex

a/n: this request is for the 🥴anon :) i always love to write hawks requests and this concept is sweet. sorry if this was too much comfort and not enough nsfw? i got carried away a little lol

_____

keigo first proposed to you after a mission. he knelt down and said the 4 magic words. the civilians and his peers all shouting "marry him!". what reason do you have not to? he was the man of your dreams since highschool and now he's on his knees, asking you to marry him. you said yes of course and happy tears streamed down both of your faces.

what more could you ask for, you've been married to a lovely husband for 3 years and the relationship between you two was stable. no one was losing interest and everyday was filled with joy and happiness.

even though you had this perfect environment around you, the tears from your eyes would not stop falling back. being a hero is going to be hard and you knew that. things go wrong all the time. villains escape, people lose their family, some lose their lives.

today was another day in patrol where the villain escaped because of your incompetence. everyone around you said it was fine of course but you sure as hell knew it wasn't. compared to someone like hawks, the #2 hero who you were married to, you're basically nothing. you had no recognition and the only reason your name was actually merely recognized was because of your husband.

you went home after, feeling shameful that you couldn't do your job well enough. you walked in the kitchen to see keigo wearing an apron preparing dinner for you.

"hey baby, you're back! i was just cooking up your favorite food. work was hectic today right? want me to prepare a bath for you?"

seeing hawks still caring so much for you despite the fact that you didn't even do the bare minimum of what you were supposed to. praising you, cooking for you, and being considerate. you felt like you didn't deserve this but because of your wonderful husband you still did. emotions were all over the place and before you knew it your eyes felt watery. tears started to drip down and you didn't even realize it. hawks noticed and immediately put the pan down and rushed over to you.

"woah woah, y/n, what's wrong? did something happen at work today?"

you closed your eyes and fell into keigo's chest. whimpers and inconsistent hics replacing your words. hawks let out a sigh and patted your back, attempting to make you more calm. he always knew what to do, whether it was to comfort you or make you smile.

"it's alright baby...i'm here, just let it out." keigo said as he stroked your hair. he waited till the hiccing stop and tilted up your head so that your eyes met his. he also wrapped his hands around your waist as yours stayed on his chest.

"wanna tell me what's wrong? you know you can tell me anything." hawks said in a soothing tone.

you nodded your head and hawks flew to the couch with you in his arms.

"alright sweetheart, i'm all ears, what's up?"

you explained what happened today at work and how pressured you felt trying to live up to your hero name being married to the number 2 hero and all so the others won't talk down of hawks because of you. he listened patiently and made sure to hold you close to him during all of this. he took a deep breath and let out a sigh as he prepared to comfort you again.

"baby, first of all, please don't feel bad about letting the villain escape. this has nothing to do with your own capabilities, every hero in this world accidently let's villains escape sometimes, even me, even endeavor! i also never want you to worry about what other people say about me "because of you". all those pieces of shits that say that can fuck right off. i don't give a single shit about what they say, i asked you to marry me because i love you, not for some stupid hero business so in no world do you need to "live up to my name" alright?"

if you had more tears you would probably cry them out but luckily you ran out from before. you thanked hawks after feeling better and rested your head on his neck.

"you know you look cuter than usual today baby bird~" he said with a smirk on his face.

"keigo! you perv! you said while giggling.

your husband leaned in to kiss into snuggle into you. he nibbled your neck and hummed a tune into your ears. as much as you just want to cuddle and relax for the rest of the night with him, you couldn't deny the fact that hawks was looking incredibly attractive today. he always looked handsome but something about him wearing a t-shirt and the grey sweatpants that showed his bulge turned you on so much.

you found your eyes trailing to his crotch area naturally and god was it irresistible.

"where are your eyes going there sweetheart~?"

you were embarrassed that keigo found your intentions but you also wanted it, so you didn't mind.

"sorry, you looked too good, i couldn't help myself."

keigo gave you a smirk and got the message. he took your tongue to his and made out with you. it wasn't the messy type that you guys usually had. this time his touch was filled with care. his hands were wandering around your stomach and your waist, try to get you as comfortable as possible. after the kiss broke, you suggest going into the bedroom instead so the couch won't get dirty.

he picked you up with his strong arms and walked into the bedroom. his hands not leaving you the entire time. keigo took off your shirt and moved down to your nipples after kissing you some more. he knows you loved being teased like this.

keigo had you riled up in seconds. making your hard cock leak precum and you whimpering under your breath.

"k-keigo...please put it in."

"my pleasure baby." keigo said as he took off his pants to reveal the huge bulge he had.

he let out his cock and applied some lube on there before he slowly entered. he made sure to move slowly today, knowing you were tired and not in the mood for rough sex. despite hawks' slow thrusts you still felt like heaven.

your groans became more consistent and both of you knew that each other were getting close. you held in hawks for a kiss and he delivered. while kissing, hawks sped up his thrusts and stroked you cock gently. you came not long after hawks started to tend to your cock and he followed up with that by cumming inside you.

you guys stayed in that position for a bit, panting, trying to catch your breathes.

"you felt so good baby you know that?" hawks said while cupping your face.

you returned his compliment with a gentle kiss on the lips as he yet again snuggled into you.

"let's clean now alright? i'm sure you'll love the dinner i made for you today."

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retvenkos · 3 years

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“i hope you know cpr, because you just took my breath away.”

requested OH, BUT I HOPE YOU’RE READY BECAUSE WE’RE ABOUT TO DIVE INTO WHAT IT’S LIKE TO BE DATING LANCE MCCLAIN...

— we all know that lance is an incorrigible flirt. so, oh, boy.... the pick up lines that preceded dating and the lines that continue....

there is no way you can avoid the outpouring of love that lance has for you. at any and all moments, he has something to say. even if you’re more on the shy side and really hate the attention, lance will still reach his daily count, only he’ll be more subtle - whispering pick up lines in your ear so he can see you blush, or catching you when you’re alone and spilling his heart.

— he just can’t contain it! and honestly,,,,, you grow to like it better when he doesn’t.

and all of his pet names for you are really cute, too! you give him one, at some point, and whenever you say it, he just becomes the epitome of heart eyes.

— but what’s funny is that while lance is the absolute most when talking.... he has no idea how to write it all down. he’s definitely tried to write you love letters before, but it always ends up in crumpled sheets of paper and dissatisfied groans. he just doesn’t know how to do it! if he were talking, he’d know exactly what to say, but when the page is before him... it’s like he’s not sure if it will be good enough.

when pidge finds him surrounded by at least twenty pieces of balled of paper, she definitely finds it hilarious.

>> “you mean ‘lance the prolific’ doesn’t know how to write a love letter? aren’t you the same boy who can recite a five paragraph essay about how amazing (y/n) is?”

and when lance awkwardly explains that his feelings of inadequacy, pidge is awkward too.

>> “oh.... well, do you have to write them letters? isn’t saying it enough?”

and maybe it is.

(or maybe, lance gets the great idea that pidge should write love letters for him. i mean,,, pidge is smart, right?

((pidge does not know how to write love letters ~lance style~. it doesn’t end well.))

— asdfghjkl,,, okay, okay, but i think it’s critical that we all understand that lance is really in tune with his and other people’s emotions

like, this boy can sense when someone is having an off day, and for the most part, he’s pretty considerate of that fact and knows how to make things right.

he knows how to give space when you need it, or when it’s time for a hug and some soothing words.

(lance is most definitely a caretaker, so just know that you are in good hands.)

— but also, i hope you are good with emotions too because lance bottles things up like crazy. please, someone talk to lance about how he’s doing because if no one asks... he’ll never mention it.

i think it’s vital that you care for lance. you listen to him and remind him how important he is to you. lance gives me the vibes of someone who desperately wants to be seen and wants to be someone’s choice. if you show him that... well, that’s something special.

— i also think it’s important that we all have a collective understanding that one of lance’s primary love languages is quality time.

you two spend so much time together. (i mean, you’re stuck is space. there’s not much else you can do.)

when you guys are bored, people can usually find you laying on the floor of lance’s room, telling stories about things you miss (lance talks a lot about his family) while putting on face masks or something. you probably tell him all of your most embarrassing stories, and he insists that they’re cute. that you’re cute.

>> “you think so?”

>> “definitely. you’d have to be crazy to not think so.”

>> “well, i think you’re cute, lance. amazing. perfect, even.”

and lance snorts

>> “i mean it!”

and all he can do is smile.

— and ! since you guys are stuck out in space and can’t exactly ask your families for advice on the ~dating~ scene,,,,,, you both bombard shiro.

he’s just a tired dad,,,,,,, he just wants to rest,,,,,,,, but if lance isn’t asking him about what to get you for a gift, you are asking shiro for flirting tips so that you can dish it right back to lance.

shiro tries to tell lance to get keith’s help but keith is like ??? why would you come to me ??? and doesn’t know what to say

(lance eventually ends up asking hunk, and it’s truly the smartest idea ever. hunk is a romantic. you guys just don’t want to see it.)

and you somehow end up asking coran for pick up lines and ohmygod,,,,,, they’re so bad,,,,, lance adores them.

— and i think your relationship is so playful! you definitely train together, and you actually give each other good tips. you also compete. a lot. lance loves a good competition! and besides, don’t you want to see who’s the better pilot? or the better cook? or the better swimmer?

— also! if you’re a massive nerd about something, lance lives for listening to you ramble about something he barely understands. it’s about the excited fire in your eyes. it’s about the intimacy of sharing something so important to your self-concept.

and please listen to lance ramble about his interests. sometimes, he feels like no one ever really sees him as anything more than the flirty one. but if he’s super knowledgeable about something and you ask him questions about it??? he’ll love you forever.

— oh, and lance is big on holding you,,,,,, in any way, shape, or form, he just wants to hold you. that can mean cuddling! hugs! holding hands! interlocking pinkies when you’re standing next to each other on the bridge! he just likes knowing your there. lance will want to put his hand in your back pocket! he will want to do any kind of cheesy, rom-com-esque actions that he can possibly think of.

just wait until allura tells him the cheesy, altean couple things,,,,,,

— but what i also can’t stress enough with lance is that he is always asking you if you are okay with stuff, and it’s honestly goals. please extend the same courtesy back to him, because truly, how often are people asking lance what he wants?

— oh, and you guys work so well in battle together. you always have the other’s back, and while you’re probably not as chatty when you’re being shot at, you probably still get a few comments tossed back and forth.

— and after a fight with the galra? after you’re sore and dead tired? you definitely wander into the lounge, only to find that keith has sprawled out on the couch, so instead of pushing him over or going to your room, you just,,, lay on the floor.

lance walks in, not too long after, and he comes over to you like ??? you okay? and you’re eyes are closed, but you raise a hand in greeting.

>> “i’m fine.”

so lance sits down beside you. for a moment, it’s nice, actually, but then the ground is hard, and honestly, when was the last time someone mopped these?

>> “so... are you always going to lay on the ground after a battle?”

>> “Only the epic ones.”

and lance laughs, but he doesn’t get off of the ground. he doesn’t leave, and instead, he tells you about this amazing save he saw you do. and you smile and tell him about how you saw him heroically save keith

(keith grunts in dismay at that)

and lance looks at you, smiling wide, stars in his eyes, and you both lean in for a kiss.

>> “you taste like sweat,” he mumbles.

you laugh, and he can feel it against his lips

>> “war,” you correct.

>> “you taste like war,” he agrees.

>> “and you taste like heroics.”

>> “and i’m officially out of here,” says keith, clearly traumatized.

and you both laugh because the paladins are just idiots in space (affectionate)

AND FLUFF ENSUES.

taglist: @maybanksslut, (and @biqherosix, because i crave validation) // add yourself to the taglist here!

#voltron #vld #lance mcclain #lance mcclain x reader #lance mcclain x you #lance mcclain headcanons #voltron headcanons #voltron imagine #lance mcclain imagine #voltron would include #lance mcclain would include #would include #headcanons #fluff

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aellynera · 3 years

Note

Hi love! Can you do a Oscar Isaac x reader where they do the buzzfeed video reading thirst tweets and he gets jealous of the tweets? Thank you so much, I love your page. ❤️

Hello lovely Nonnie! I’m sorry this took so long, but I finally got super inspired to finish it. It’s not Oscar Isaac per se (I don’t do RPF) but I thought about it a bit and I was like...but I will do a Llewyn AU. So that’s what I did, and here it is, and I hope you and whoever else reads it, enjoys it! (note: most of the tweets came from various Thirst Tweet videos on YouTube, but there are a couple I just made up.)

I Want Llewyn Davis to Blank Me in the Blank (Llewyn Davis x F!Reader, Modern AU)

Word Count: 1300(ish)

Warnings: Some language, sexual references but nothing graphic or explicit just suggestive, floof.

- Llewyn isn’t sure what a BuzzFeed is, and to be honest, he’s not even sure what the hell a thirst tweet is.

- You’re always teasing him that, if the world suddenly loses all technology tomorrow and the internet and social media disappear, he’ll be the only one who will still be able to function, and he’ll probably be a lot happier.

- You’re not wrong.

- He hates social media. Doesn’t understand what the point is really, why so many people are obsessed with it. Yeah, he technically has official accounts on all the major platforms, mainly because you insisted and set them up. They’re just placeholders and he never uses them.

- The only reason he’s even here to do this media gig is because you asked, all wide puppy-dog eyes and gnawed-on bottom lip, and he knows that you know he can’t say no to that.

- Not that he ever really wants to say no to you, but sometimes...

- Now he’s almost one hundred percent certain he regrets it.

- You’ve tried explaining the concept to him, probably like twenty-some times, and you’re trying again now, but as you lead him into the studio it pretty much goes in one ear and out the other.

- People don’t know you’re together, so he’s annoyed by that on top of everything else, because he can’t call you any of the usual pet names that roll off his tongue like melted butter.

- No angel. No baby. No sweetheart. It fucking sucks.

- "It’s not a serious thing, Llewyn. Just...fake it till you make it. Make jokes about it, it’ll be fine,” you tell him.

- You sit side by side at a little table, a couple feet apart, and a production assistant put a little metal bucket in front of each of you.

- Llewyn gives you a weird look. You just shake your head and smile this cute little smile that he does his level best to ignore because, well, you’re in public and nobody knows.

- Then the tweets come out of the buckets.

- Things I requite in a man: five nine, pisces, grammy nominated, llewyn davis. That’s all i ever need.

- Why is Llewyn Davis so attractive? He’s like 30 years older than me and I’m a lesbian but he still gets me hot and bothered.

- I cannot believe Llewyn Davis invented being sexy.

- Llewyn Davis got thicc lips and thicc hips

- I want Llewyn Davis to be my daddy but not in the fatherly kind of way.

- There’s a lot more, but honestly, they all sort of blend together.

- He manages to laugh them off and make some clever comments but he shoots you a look that’s part confusion, part disdain, and really annoyed. You just shrug.

- But then the tweets start coming out of your bucket, and Llewyn’s brain instantly regains its laser-focus.

- First, because everyone calls you by your online handle, which drives the nail further into Llewyn’s coffin because of his inability to actually call you cute names night now.

- Secondly, who do these assholes think they are, talking about his girl like this?

- Hello? Maker? Can we talk about how you put the heavens in AngelEyes’s eyes, because it’s starting to cause some serious problems over here. Kthx.

- I want to lick cherry-flavored jello off AngelEyes fingers, why does life have to be so unfair?

- Sit on my face and suffocate me, AngelEyes.

- AngelEyes’s boobs are a gift from whatever deity you choose to believe in, and if you’re an atheist, well, then more tits for me.

- I’m pretty sure AngelEyes could get all my children out of me, and I’m willing to take that challenge.

- Llewyn’s kind of tuned out, trying not to pay any attention to all the dirty things the world wants to do to you, but his head finally snaps up and his arm does too and his little metal bucket goes crashing to the floor.

- You (and everyone else in the studio) just stare at him.

- “Could I...” he clears his throat, “could I speak to you, for just a minute? Like, out in the hall?”

- “Okay?” you say slowly, but stand up and head towards the door, with him right behind you.

- The door barely has a change to swing shut behind you before Llewyn is on you, frantically pressing his lips to yours in a soul-sucking kiss.

- “Llewyn, what are you doing?” you hiss when you finally break away for air.

- It took quite a few minutes before you absolutely needed that break and you’re fairly certain people are going to come looking for you any second because you have to be taking a lot longer to “talk” than Llewyn implied.

- “Do you have any idea how hard it is for me to sit there and pretend all those tweets are okay”

- He’s pressing you against the wall and you can’t help the slightly impish smile that comes to your face. “I have a pretty good idea.”

- Llewyn glares through narrowed eyes. “This isn’t funny, AngelEyes.”

- “I was listening to all the ones people said about you too. Don’t get so worked up, Llewyn, it’s all in good fun.”

- Llewyn snorts.

- “Baby, are you...jealous?” You raise a brow at him.

- “I have half a mind to just take you up against this wall, right now.”

- “You’re jealous.”

- His mouth is suddenly a breath away from yours again, and he murmurs, “I just want people to know that you’re mine. And to know that I’m yours. And to never read a single thirst tweet ever again in my entire life,” before his desperate lips are back on yours.

- This time, he pulls out of the kiss first and you rest your head on his shoulder and try to catch your breath again.

- He’s checking something on his phone - replying to a text from his manager Snap or his sister, maybe, you’re only vaguely aware that he’s actually on his phone at all.

- But then you feel your own phone vibrate in your pocket.

- You pull it out and immediately almost drop it.

- “Llewyn. You...you didn’t.”

- Llewyn looks at you with a completely innocent face. He slides his phone back in his pocket and hooks a thumb towards the door. “I don’t know what you mean, sweetheart. Come on, we should probably get back in there before they send a search party.”

- You barely have time to process the notification that Llewyn Davis (@ folksingerwithacatofficial) has made his first tweet! Check it out! and even less time to actually read it before Llewyn disappears through the door and you have to follow.

- But it there was a picture - you didn’t even know Llewyn knew how to do that. And if he had an extra minute, he’d be inordinately proud of himself.

- It’s from a friend’s rooftop party a couple weeks ago. You’re behind him with your arms around his shoulders, kissing his cheek, and he has his eyes closed and a happy, content little smile on his face.

- There’s no way anyone’s going to look at it and be like, ‘oh they’re just friends.’ But the caption definitely clears it up.

- Never been happier than I am w/AngelEyes by my side. Aren’t enough words to say how much I love you, baby. Maybe I’ll just write you a song or ten.

- You head back into the studio, about to shove your phone back in your pocket, your face burning hotter than the sun, but it vibrates again and you see the corners of Llewyn lips turn up, even though he’s pointedly not looking at you.

- There’s another tweet.

- Now go get some water y’all and stop talking about my girlfriend’s tits. At least give her ass the credit it deserves too.

- Llewyn pretends not to notice when, five minutes later, everyone’s phones and laptops and tablets start blowing up with notifications and reactions. He just pulls you into his lap and kisses you softly on the cheek.

Everything Taglist: @anetteaneta @autumnleaves1991-blog @be-the-spark-flyboy @damerondjarin @deeandbobbymcgee @huxdameron @iflostreturntobudcooper @itspdameronthings @jitterbugs927 @leto-duke @littlebopper96 @reysflyboy @rosemarysbaby13 @spider-starry @veuliee @waatermelon-sugaar @woakiees @writefightandflightclub @yourbucky084

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bloody-bee-tea · 3 years

Text

Mall

First part Previous part

The only warning Jiang Cheng gets before Wei Wuxian drapes himself over his back is Lan Wangji’s low “Careful” right before Wei Wuxian’s shriek.

It gives Jiang Cheng enough time to brace himself, but the impact still punches the breath out of him.

“Jiang Cheng!” Wei Wuxian yells as if Jiang Cheng could have ignored his entrance and Jiang Cheng rolls his eyes, even though Wei Wuxian doesn’t care.

“What?” he bites out when Wei Wuxian doesn’t immediately start talking, and he closes his book.

He won’t get any more studying done with Wei Wuxian hanging off him like that, and he still struggles enough with this concept that he needs his full attention for the tasks they were assigned.

“It’s almost your birthday!” Wei Wuxian excitedly says, finally releasing Jiang Cheng and moving around the table to sit in front of him, almost vibrating out of his skin in excitement.

“It is?” Jiang Cheng mutters and realises with a start that Wei Wuxian is right.

It’s almost November.

Jiang Cheng nods gratefully at Lan Wangji when he sits down next to Wei Wuxian and puts a calming hand to his shoulder, because it means for just a moment Wei Wuxian is distracted enough that Jiang Cheng gets a moment to think.

He didn’t realize that time was passing by so quickly and that it was already time for his birthday.

Not that it means anything, because his birthday has never been anything special.

“What are you going to do?” Wei Wuxian asks him, when he manages to tear his eyes away from Lan Wangji and Jiang Cheng looks down at the book in front of him.

“Nothing,” he says with a shrug. “Shouldn’t you worry about your birthday first?” he then asks before Wei Wuxian can pester him for more answers and that at least gets Wei Wuxian talking.

He’s planning a huge Halloween party—like every year—except that this time he’s planning to drag Lan Wangji and Lan Xichen into it, since he wants to do it at their place.

Jiang Cheng nods along with Wei Wuxian’s plans, because he didn’t really expect anything else.

Of course Wei Wuxian would just do as he normally does, and of course Lan Wangji is smitten enough with him that he doesn’t tell him off. Jiang Cheng is just surprised that Lan Xichen seemingly agreed to this, but then again the guy loves his brother and he would never do anything that would make Lan Wangji unhappy. And denying Wei Wuxian a huge ass part would make Wei Wuxian very unhappy, which would make Lan Wangji unhappy.

Jiang Cheng distantly wonders if Wei Wuxian realized that yet but then he thinks that if he had, he would be shamelessly exploiting it anyway.

“And it’ll be so epic,” Wei Wuxian finishes his rant and Jiang Cheng tunes back in, hoping that it at least looks like he was listening the whole time.

“Once we sobered up, we’ll get started on your birthday planning,” Wei Wuxian says with a huge smile and Jiang Cheng just barely suppresses a shiver.

“That’s not—” Jiang Cheng starts but he doesn’t even know what he wants to say. “I don’t—”

Images of dinner with his parents flash through his mind and Jiang Cheng goes cold all over, remembering it.

“See you,” he finally presses out as he quickly gathers his things, trying his damn hardest to keep his breath slow and even, but it’s not working so well, going by the wide-eyed look Wei Wuxian throws him, and even Lan Wangji seems worried.

Jiang Cheng is pretty sure that they are calling him back as he runs away from them, but he can’t really hear what they are saying over the rushing in his ears.

He didn’t realize that it was already that time of year. He tries to not think about his birthday too often and now that’s biting him in the ass, because it’s hitting him unprepared.

Jiang Cheng isn’t really paying attention as to where he’s running to but he comes to an abrupt stop when he realizes he’s on his way to Lan Qiren’s house.

Home, a very treacherous part of him thinks and Jiang Cheng tries to push that thought away.

Jiang Cheng has his own room there, has a key and his presence in the house is undeniable, but it still feels dangerous to think of it as his home. If he does, he admits that he’s attached and then it can slip through his fingers again.

But the house is the only thing that comes to mind when he thinks of the concept of home and Jiang Cheng isn’t even surprised to find that he never thinks of his parent’s house like that.

Jiang Cheng briefly thinks about going somewhere else like the fitness studio, or maybe even the library, but then he remembers Lan Xichen’s words and he knows he can’t do that.

If Lan Xichen catches him there, he’ll be disappointed and Jiang Cheng could never take that, but especially not today.

In the end Jiang Cheng keeps going where he was originally headed, and he lets out a relieved breath when he realizes that Lan Qiren isn’t at home yet.

It gives Jiang Cheng time to put himself together.

Sadly, it also gives him time to think about his birthday again.

Lan Qiren hasn’t said anything about his birthday yet, and Jiang Cheng knows what that means. He’s not doing good enough.

His grades are not the best, especially not lately, and of course Lan Qiren knows about that. Of course Jiang Cheng doesn’t deserve any kind of reward.

And he doesn’t even dare to think about asking Lan Qiren if he can have his siblings over on the weekend because he’s already imposing enough on Lan Qiren and he couldn’t possibly ask for more.

He can’t ask Wei Wuxian if they can do it at his place, cause he’s already having a huge party and it would be too much to ask Lan Xichen and Lan Wangji to host his party—as small as it may be—as well. Jiang Cheng doesn’t want to ask Jiang Yanli either, because he doubts Jin Zixuan would be happy about that and that really doesn’t leave him with any options.

And really, what does it matter anyway? He’s not sleeping in the streets and he should be thankful for that. Instead he is thinking about asking for more than he should and Jiang Cheng wonders if it will ever stop. If he will ever learn not to be too greedy, too demanding and instead learn his place.

Jiang Cheng mostly has his mind made up when he opens the door and steps into the house and it makes him feel better.

He’s not going to ask for anything. He doesn’t expect Lan Qiren to do anything special for him on that day—his parents never did, after all, and he’s not sure his grades warrant anything anyway—and he can survive one year without the usual sibling evening for his birthday.

It will be fine.

~*~*~

Jiang Cheng manages to put the thought of his birthday out of his mind for the most part, but of course there’s still this lingering nagging in his brain, insisting that maybe he just needs to talk to Lan Qiren for once, and that he’ll be surprised by what comes out.

But Jiang Cheng knows that’s stupid—has learned it for years and years, to never hope for anything—and so he keeps quiet. He doesn’t think Wei Wuxian or Lan Wangji said anything to Lan Qiren either; they have been more attentive ever since that last episode and would never force anything like this and Jiang Cheng is thankful for it.

Especially since the first tests are coming up and Jiang Cheng has to study hard for those; he doesn’t have time to worry over other things.

“I’m back,” Jiang Cheng calls out when he comes through the front door one day, and he frowns when he sees another pair of shoes in the hallway.

He wasn’t aware they were expecting anyone, but of course Lan Qiren can have guests over whenever he wants.

“Welcome home,” Lan Xichen calls out, clearly from the kitchen, and Jiang Cheng relaxes.

He doesn’t think anything of it, because Lan Xichen is over a lot lately, especially to help with cooking and teaching Jiang Cheng, but when he comes into view and sees Lan Qiren seated at the table and Lan Xichen deliberately disinterested in the kitchen Jiang Cheng tenses.

“What—did I do something wrong?” Jiang Cheng lowly asks, frozen in the doorway but he’s relieved to see that Lan Qiren immediately shakes his head.

“Of course not, Wanyin,” he reassures him, but he points at the chair opposite of him and Jiang Cheng reluctantly sits down.

He can’t remember doing anything wrong, but he probably just missed something.

He always does.

“Is this about my grades?” he carefully asks, because they did have a test today, and he wouldn’t be surprised if his was graded first, just so Lan Qiren can know how he’s doing.

“Should it be?” Lan Qiren asks with a frown, and Jiang Cheng barely has the chance to worry before Lan Xichen comes in.

“Uncle,” he says, clearly reminding Lan Qiren that this is not about that and Lan Qiren nods at him.

“No, it’s not,” Lan Qiren says to Jiang Cheng then, though he continues to be serious.

Much more serious than Jiang Cheng would like.

“Your birthday is coming up, right?” Lan Xichen asks, clearly in an attempt to diffuse the tension, but Jiang Cheng only tenses more at his words.

“Yes,” he curtly says and then falls silent, waiting for Lan Qiren to tell him where this is going.

He doesn’t want to say anything wrong after all.

“Do you have any plans? Any wishes?” Lan Qiren asks when it becomes clear that Jiang Cheng will not be the one to break the silence and Jiang Cheng ducks his head.

“I don’t—how are my grades?” Jiang Cheng wants to know and ducks his head again when Lan Qiren simply blinks at him.

“What does one have to do with the other?” Lan Qiren demands to know, making Jiang Cheng shrink back, but like always, Lan Xichen is there to intervene.

“Wanyin, if you don’t want to talk about it, you don’t have to,” he says and puts his hand on Jiang Cheng’s arm. “But if you want to, we’re here to listen.”

“Is that why you’re here?” Jiang Cheng asks to gain some time to bring his thoughts into order and Lan Xichen gives him a sheepish smile.

“We suspected that this might not be an easy topic for you since you never spoke about it before,” he admits. “And it seems that my presence helps sometimes.”

Jiang Cheng nods, because they are not wrong about either of those things, but he still stays silent because he doesn’t even know where to start.

“Why would your grades relate to your birthday?” Lan Qiren eventually gently prompts and Jiang Cheng takes a deep breath.

He keeps his eyes on the table, unable to meet Lan Qiren’s or Lan Xichen’s gaze as he talks about this.

Jiang Cheng would really rather not talk about this at all, but Lan Qiren has shown him in the past that he’s not like Jiang Cheng’s parents, so maybe this won’t be too bad and Jiang Cheng clings to that thought as he starts to talk.

“It’s just that—usually—I mean—“ he stutters out and finds that he’s not as calm as he thought he is about this.

The panic is right there, lodged in his throat and stomach and Jiang Cheng wants to shake with it, but Lan Xichen still has his hand on Jiang Cheng’s arm and he squeezes lightly.

“Take your time,” he tells him, and Jiang Cheng nods, but it still takes him a few minutes to get his breathing back under control.

“What I get for my birthday is dependent on the grades I have,” Jiang Cheng finally whispers, and he flinches when both Lan Xichen and Lan Qiren jerk at his words.

“What do you mean by that?” Lan Qiren asks him, clearly needing more of an explanation than this and Jiang Cheng grimaces.

“If my grades are not good, I’m not allowed to ask for anything,” Jiang Cheng mutters and decides not to tell them that in the eyes of his mother, his grades could never be good enough, no matter what he did.

“I don’t know how my grades are right now, so I’m not sure what I’m allowed to ask for,” Jiang Cheng finally finishes weakly, though he knows that his grades are hardly good enough to warrant any kind of reward, no matter how small it might be.

“You’re allowed to ask for anything,” Lan Qiren tells him, but Jiang Cheng shakes his head.

He knows he is not.

“I don’t--I’m not even sure I passed the test today, there’s nothing I could—” Jiang Cheng trails off, his breath speeding up again.

He never admitted to his failings before, never dared too, but now it simply slipped out and the panic is gripping him hard. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he chokes out. “I promise to do better, I’ll study more,” Jiang Cheng tries, but deep down he wonders how long Lan Qiren will allow him to fuck up like this.

They all know he’s too stupid for that particular subject and it can only be a matter of time before Lan Qiren—and Lan Xichen as well—get fed up with his empty promises.

“Breathe, Wanyin,” Lan Xichen gently reminds him, and Jiang Cheng itches to obey him, but it still takes him a while before his breath comes easy again.

“I didn’t do anything to earn a celebration of my birth yet,” Jiang Cheng finally mutters when he feels stable again and he fears he did something wrong again when absolute silence settles over the kitchen.

Jiang Cheng isn’t even sure if Lan Qiren and Lan Xichen are still breathing, but he’s too scared to check.

“That hateful woman,” Lan Qiren eventually chokes out and he sounds as mad as Jiang Cheng has ever heard him.

It only makes him lower his head even further and he brings his shoulders up, because if he already made Lan Qiren this angry then Jiang Cheng doesn’t want to do anything else to anger him further.

“I’m sorry,” Jiang Cheng whispers, desperately wishing that he just never came home, that they never brought this horrible topic up, but regrets never got him anywhere. It’s already done after all.

“I am not angry with you,” Lan Qiren says and suddenly it’s him at Jiang Cheng’s side and no longer Lan Xichen.

“But you sound—” Jiang Cheng whispers, because Lan Qiren sounded so angry and Jiang Cheng knows that never means anything good.

“I’m not angry with you,” Lan Qiren sighs again. “I am angry with your parents.”

“Oh,” Jiang Cheng says, because that he didn’t expect. “I mean, they always were there for dinner on my birthday, so it’s not so bad,” he tries to explain, but Lan Qiren shakes his head.

“It is that bad,” he simply states. “Here in this house we celebrate your birthday. What would you like?” he asks and Jiang Cheng can only blink at him.

“But I didn’t—” he cuts himself off before he can say ‘earn it yet’ because with how this afternoon is going, he doesn’t think Lan Qiren would be too happy about it.

“What would you like?” Lan Qiren repeats softly and Jiang Cheng turns questioning eyes on Lan Xichen, hoping that he can help him.

“It’s your birthday, Wanyin,” Lan Xichen says with a small smile, even though it does look a little bit sad. “Of course you will get presents.”

Jiang Cheng worries his lower lip, because never before did he have to articulate a wish to a guardian or parent before and he doesn’t know what to ask for.

Oh, he does know what he wants to ask for, but he’s still not sure this won’t come back to bite him in the ass, so he figures it’s best to play it safe for now.

“Jiang Wanyin, you’re the best son anyone could wish for and you deserve to get something you really want on your birthday,” Lan Qiren suddenly speaks up and Jiang Cheng jerks with his words, before his eyes dart over to Lan Xichen again.

He’s worried he’ll take this the wrong way, that he will be mad with Jiang Cheng for taking that praise away from him, but Lan Xichen only smiles at him.

“He’s right, Wanyin,” Lan Xichen says with a shrug. “Don’t look that startled, I know what you think, and it’s different. Wangji and I are his nephews.”

“That’s not true, Xichen,” Lan Qiren says and now he’s reaching out for Lan Xichen. “I have raised you since you were five and Wangji since he was two. I don’t see you as my nephews, I see you as my sons. And all three of you make me very, very proud.”

“Oh,” Lan Xichen breathes out and his surprise makes Lan Qiren’s words a little easier to bear for Jiang Cheng. He isn’t used to parents giving praise out that easily. Usually it’s a competition and praise is a limited goods. “I didn’t actually know that,” Lan Xichen mutters eventually and Lan Qiren sighs.

“And that’s on me,” Lan Qiren immediately says. “I should have made that clear sooner. I’m sorry.”

Jiang Cheng’s head is spinning with Lan Qiren’s words; not only did he admit to making a mistake but he also apologized for it—which adults never do, in Jiang Cheng’s experience—but he also praised Jiang Cheng in the same breath as Lan Wangji and Lan Xichen, who are objectively the better students.

Arguably even the better humans, but Jiang Cheng tries to push that thought far away.

“Thank you for saying it now,” Lan Xichen says and now he’s practically beaming at Lan Qiren, who all of a sudden seems very uncomfortable with the situation.

“Nonsense,” he grumbles and tugs on his beard a few times, before he turns his attention back on Jiang Cheng. “Now to get back to what you want for your birthday,” he says and Jiang Cheng thinks that maybe it’s time to just accept that Lan Qiren really means this.

That this year Jiang Cheng is allowed to wish for something.

“I—there’s this program,” Jiang Cheng starts hesitantly but when Lan Qiren nods encouragingly at him, he continues. “A computer program for architects,” Jiang Cheng finishes in a whisper and Lan Qiren’s eyes light up.

“Architecture? You’re interested in that?”

“Yes,” Jiang Cheng admits and looks down at his hands. “I usually only doodle a few sketches—of course, only when I’m done with my studies and homework—but it would be nice to plan something in a program for once.”

“I never doubt that you’re working very hard and finishing all of your duties before you relax,” Lan Qiren reassures him. “So you would want the program?”

“Yes,” Jiang Cheng whispers but this time it’s Lan Xichen who starts talking.

“But can your laptop handle it? I have seen it and it’s verging on the older side, isn’t it? Will the program still run on there?”

Well, the one Jiang Cheng very desperately wants will not, but they don’t have to know that. Jiang Cheng can probably safe up for a new laptop in less than a year if he’s smart about it.

“Yes,” he says, but it seems like Lan Qiren looks right through him, because he throws him a look.

It makes Jiang Cheng shrink back on instinct but then he huffs out a laugh.

At least Lan Qiren notices when Jiang Cheng is lying to him.

“I mean—the more simple ones will,” he amends his previous statement and Lan Qiren nods as if it’s decided.

“Wangji and me will get the program then,” Lan Xichen says, more to Lan Qiren than to Jiang Cheng and Jiang Cheng frowns.

“And I will get the new laptop,” Lan Qiren says and Jiang Cheng stares at him.

“That would be way too much! You shouldn’t do that!”

“It’s your birthday, of course we should. Actually, I’m not quite as versed in these things, and I’m not sure what kind of requirements the laptop would need, so why don’t you go with Xichen to the mall and see if you can find something that would fit your needs?”

“I’ll make sure he picks something that’s not outdated in a year,” Lan Xichen says with a teasing smile and Jiang Cheng blushes.

“You really don’t have to do that. Just the one program would be enough.”

“Nonsense,” Lan Qiren immediately says. “You will get something good for your birthday.”

“Alright,” Jiang Cheng whispers, unbearably happy with how this whole talk turned out and he has to fight the urge to hug Lan Qiren, his eyes burning with emotions.

He’s not one for too much physical contact, Jiang Cheng has noticed that before, and so Jiang Cheng sits on his hands.

“One hug won’t kill him,” Lan Xichen whispers as he leans over the table, absolutely loud enough for Lan Qiren to hear and Jiang Cheng flushes again.

“It won’t,” Lan Qiren agrees and even moves his chair a bit back in invitation.

And Jiang Cheng really can’t pass something like that up, so he gets up and immediately darts in for a hug.

Despite not liking them, Lan Qiren is very good at them, and Jiang Cheng would never complain if they lasted a bit longer, but he doesn’t want to overdo it, so he pulls away after a short while.

“Thank you,” he whispers and Lan Qiren awkwardly pats his shoulder.

“You are very welcome, Wanyin. Now tell me how you want to celebrate.”

“What?”

“I’m guessing you want your siblings to come over? And maybe Wangji and Xichen? I heard you’re friends with Huaisang, too? Invite him as well, if you want to.”

“For—lunch?” Jiang Cheng hesitantly asks but Lan Qiren frowns.

“Don’t youths usually do dinner and a movie or something?” he asks and Lan Xichen snorts out a laugh.

“Or something,” he says with a nod and Jiang Cheng’s own mouth twitches as well but he bites it back.

“The curfew,” Jiang Cheng starts and then ends with a shrug.

He really doesn’t want to impose this on Lan Qiren as well, but Lan Qiren shakes his head.

“Your birthday is on a Friday, right? I don’t see why you couldn’t stay up a little bit longer on your birthday.”

“We can do it at our place, uncle,” Lan Xichen offers, even though Jiang Cheng didn’t even ask him and Lan Xichen smiles at him.

“Wanyin could sleep over, and you wouldn’t have to worry about him or stay up for far longer than you normally do.”

It’s a reasonable suggestion, but Jiang Cheng never wanted to ask Lan Xichen about this in the first place, not with how Wei Wuxian will have his party at their place as well, but when both Lan Qiren and Lan Xichen look expectantly at him, he can’t refuse them.

“Sounds good,” he chokes out and immediately Lan Xichen’s smile is back.

“Perfect! Just let me know what you’d like for dinner and snacks and I’ll get everything ready.”

“No,” Jiang Cheng interjects, because he will not allow Lan Xichen do to everything. “I can cook and go shopping as well. It’s my party; I should at least help, right?”

“That’s very nice of you to offer,” Lan Qiren says and nods at Jiang Cheng and Lan Xichen. “You can do it at your place, but let him help.”

“Alright,” Lan Xichen easily agrees and it does make Jiang Cheng feel a little bit better.

“Thank you,” he whispers to both of them and his eyes start to burn when both Lan Qiren and Lan Xichen put a hand to his shoulders.

“Always,” Lan Xichen immediately says and Lan Qiren nods.

“That’s what family is like,” he softly tells him and Jiang Cheng nods, not trusting his voice to hold out at all.

Lan Qiren said something like that before, and all of his actions are very in line with it as well, and Jiang Cheng might just start trusting that he is safe here, with them.

It would be so very nice to not be proven wrong this time.

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chocoholicannanymous · 3 years

Text

Concepts of Insanity (Glee)

AN: No proofreading whatsoever. Subject to rewrite if I change my mind about it. Take it or leave it.

Concepts of Insanity

“Kurt? Oh, there you are, good. We have an emergency!”

Kurt smiles a little as he finishes up rearranging the flowers. He adores Isabelle, he really does, but she's a bit...excitable. There's always an emergency, or a disaster, or a catastrophe. So far today there's been four, unless he's miscounting; a lose hem, a missing delivery of non-alcoholic champagne, Isabelle almost fainting from forgetting to eat, and the flowers he's currently fixing not being enough something or other. He's actually kind of curious what it is this time.

He gives the flowers a last look, nods with satisfaction and turns around. The smile on his lips dies the second he meets Isabelle's eyes. This isn't a normal emergency.

“What's wrong?”

“The musicians are here, only the vocalist is currently throwing up to the point where they've called an ambulance.”

Kurt winces. That doesn't sound good for whoever it is. Also it really doesn't sound good for them. Isabelle had gone out on a limb with the small ensemble she'd hired for the event, deciding to make the music more than a background by having some songs performed with vocals. To have the vocalist missing would throw off the setlist. Maybe not enough for most people to notice, but at an event like this? Someone would definitely notice.

Especially since word seemed to have spread.

“I've spent the last ten minutes on the phone, and there's not a single vocalist to be had. This is so bad, Kurt! I'm never going to hear the end of this.”

Kurt hesitates, uncomfortable with voicing his possible solution, but deciding to offer it up anyway. It's Isabelle.

(Plus Rachel will never forgive him if he doesn't and she finds out.)

“I know it's not what you were aiming at, but my roommate is a NYADA student, and I know that most of the songs you picked out is in her wheelhouse. I could call her? If she answers she could hop in a cab and be here in 30 minutes.”

Isabelle looks a bit hesitant, but nods.

“Please do. I'll pay for the cab too, obviously. Check back with me in 5 minutes?”

Kurt agrees and hurries out to a silent space, phone in hand already dialing as he walks. There's no response for his first call, and Kurt leaves a hurried voice mail for Rachel to call him asap as it's an emergency. He then sends the same message as a text before trying to call again. He manages to squeeze in a total of five calls before he has to return to Isabelle, without response.

Maybe Rachel's in the shower again. Or singing. Or on a date with Brody.

“I'm sorry, Isabelle. I couldn't get hold of her.”

“Never mind, I have an idea. Can you do it?”

Kurt stares at her, not quite believing he heard her right.

“Me?” She nods and he shakes his head. “Isabelle, you've never even heard me sing!”

“True. But honey, I know how good you are with fashion. For you to chose music over that you have to be either insanely talented or just insane. So, will you do it?”

Kurt wants to shake his head again. What she's suggesting is crazy. Yes, Kurt can sing, but... His focus on music is more and more looking like insanity. He's just gotten rejected by Carmen Tibideaux a second time, for crying out loud. “Devoid of complexity and depth” echoes through his skull.

Except. This is Isabelle asking. His fairy godmother of sorts. He owes her.

“Are you sure? I'll do it, if you really want, but I'm not going to be anywhere as good as whoever you'd hired,” or Rachel for that matter, “and I don't want to ruin this for you.”

“You are going to be amazing. Thank you, Kurt, you're a lifesaver!”

And with that Isabelle floats off, leaving Kurt in a dazed state. He's going to panic, sooner or later, but for now he's still too stunned for it.

Right. His first action has to be to talk to the ensemble. The plan was to have the vocalist on three sets of three songs throughout the evening, but he's not entirely clear on what numbers had finally been picked. He will probably need to review lyrics up until the guests arrive, provided he can actually manage all of them. He's got a good range, yes, but that's not everything.

Oh, and he should swing by Isabelle's office and nab the blue west he'd spotted earlier – he'd dressed to fade against the wallpaper, not to be seen.

The first set goes well, as does the second. By the third and final he's lost enough of his nerves to let Isabelle drag him out on the floor instead of going off to hide as he'd initially planned. Several people drop by to talk, and he gets more than a few compliments. Maybe it's more about looking good to Isabelle than about actually liking it, but Kurt will take it anyway.

“So, you must be not just a talented singer but talented in fashion too for Isabelle to have taken you under her wing. Do you study fashion or music?”

The woman, Nadia something, asking sounds genuine and so Kurt gives her a small smile and answers as pleasantly as he can.

“Neither actually. I'm applying to NYADA though.”

There's a flash of something in her face, but Kurt can't quite make out what it is.

“For the spring semester? Ah.” She hesitates, sends a look towards where Isabelle is talking animatedly about something, and then looks at Kurt again.

“Can I be honest? Carmen Tibideaux is a very talented woman, in everything she does, and she's got an eye for picking out talent. However, she's also got a bit of a reputation.

“She loves to discover new talent that others overlook. Except every now and again she'll go about it in a rather underhanded way. She'll have someone audition, someone talented but a little raw around the edges. Someone with a ton of talent but a weak resumé, often with a little less self-esteem than most performers. She'll praise them and then turn them down. Most of the time they'll come back, looking for a second chance – she said they were great, right? Surely that means they'll get the part sooner or later, if they just approach it right.”

Kurt swallows. It sounds a little too familiar for comfort.

“Sometimes she'll turn them down both a second and third time, and then she'll put them on the spot, giving them another chance as long as they step out of their comfort zone and perform to her standards. And then she'll take them, and she'll own them. They'll go through their whole careers claiming they owe it all to her.”

She looks Kurt in the eyes, sincerity radiating out of her – but Kurt knows how little that means, in these circles – and a kind expression on her face.

“I'm not saying that's you, but for you to be applying to the spring semester, with your level of talent... If she's doing it to you, you should know you're not the first, and I doubt you'd be the last.

“Any school would be well served to have you as a student, I think. I already know you're talented, and as I know Isabelle I also know you have to be hardworking. Plus, seeing as that ensemble always works with a female vocalist I'm assuming something happened to have you step in at the last minute, meaning you stand up to pressure.

“NYADA is not the only school in New York for a young man like you, and I'd argue that it's not the best either. Think about what I've said, will you? And thank you again for a very enjoyable performance.”

It's only years of pretending in the face of bullies and a worried father that allows Kurt to pull of a believable goodbye and graceful exit. After this he's definitely hiding in Isabelle's office, damn it.

When Kurt comes back to the loft it's late and he wants nothing more to fall into bed, nighttime routines be damned. But Rachel's sitting on the couch, waiting for him judging from the expectant look on her face.

“I tried to call you.” It comes out a little flat, but Kurt doesn't have the energy to pretend. He needed her, called an emergency damn it, and she hasn't even texted him back in the six hours since his frantic calling.

“I heard, but I was busy practicing my number for tomorrow.” She doesn't even look sorry.

“Oh? I thought you said you didn't have any assignments for tomorrow.” That was why he'd felt safe calling her, after all.

She just waves a hand, clearly not too bothered.

“Nothing official, no, but that's no reason not to be ready to perform. I'm sure there will be an opening for me to dazzle my classmates.” And she goes on to describe the songs she's considered, and who's done them, and why her version is better, and Kurt just...tunes her out.

She hasn't even asked what he wanted. It's as if the thought hasn't even passed her mind. Well. If she's not interested then he's not going to waste his time telling her – especially not since she's bound to get upset over losing an opportunity to perform for an actual audience. He's also not going to waste his time listening to her go on about what she'd done instead of checking in on him.

“I'm going to bed.”

“Kurt! I need your input on this, surely bed can wait a bit?” When he shakes his head her face hardens. “Fine, be that way. NYADA is hard, you know. It takes dedication. Maybe if you showed a little more of that you would have gotten accepted.”

Kurt shoves down the desire to slap her and bites out a “goodnight” before stalking off to bed. He can't believe she went there. Oh wait, he can. It's so Rachel, to just look at herself and ignore everything else. Show more dedication? Devoid of complexity and depth. Fuck her. Fuck them both.

Kurt had knocked his audition out of the park. Rachel and madam Tibideaux both had admitted that. Meanwhile Rachel had choked. Yet he'd been rejected while Rachel fucking Berry swanned around NYADA claiming to be dedicated. She never should have gotten accepted based on her audition. And somehow he just knows that there's no way she'd admit that Kurt should have been given that spot, not her.

As for madam Tibideaux and her “I rarely give anyone a second chance and if I do it's on my terms”... Bah! Rachel had harassed her way into her second chance. Hell, she'd recruited several others to also harass the madam on her behalf.

But somehow Kurt reapplying was the foul thing here. Right.

Maybe it was time he looked at options other than NYADA. That woman at the vogue event, she'd said that other schools might be a better fit for him. She'd sounded like she knew what she was talking about. Unlike Kurt, honestly, who'd pinned his hopes on NYADA based on Rachel. Hindsight has him questioning if he'd been slipped something, because leaving his college education up to whatever Rachel wanted? Insanity.

Well. Insanity is doing the same thing over again and expecting a different result, right? Clearly it's time to change his approach.

O--o---o--O

A week later Rachel comes home from the NYADA Winter Showcase bubbling about her success and how she's taken them all by storm. She makes a snide comment or two about how Kurt should have been able to see it for himself, had he taken the ticket she'd gone through so much trouble to acquire for him instead of doing whatever (it's called work), and Kurt just nods. He doesn't really care, but. He has to at least pretend to listen to preserve peace in the loft.

“Oh, I almost forgot! Madam Tibideaux asked after you.”

Kurt stills like a dog scenting prey. This he wants to hear.

“Oh?”

“Yes, apparently she was considering giving you another chance at applying. I don't know why she had to do it tonight, as it's for NYADA students and you're not, but she did. You should probably contact her. If you apologize properly she might still be open to it.”

Rachel looks at him, waiting for a reaction and clearly not pleased with what she's seeing.

“Well?”

“I'll think about it, Rachel. Calm down.”

And he will. Only he's not too eager to apologize to madam Tibideaux, or give her another chance to toy with him and probably reject him (he didn't show up for what she had planned, after all). It all sounds very much like what Nadia described at the vogue event. He listened. He might not have liked what he heard, or wanted to believe it, but he listened. In more than one way.

Over the past seven days he's written half a dozen applications to various music schools in New York, and sent them out. His current favorite is the New School, where a tour of the campus has given him a very good vibe. He'd be happy there, he thinks, and they might be happy with him. At least that's his take from meeting a couple of faculty members, one of the more prestigious of which just so happens to be Nadia.

Who would have guessed that doing a favor for Isabelle would lead to this? He might just owe her even more by now. Fairy godmother indeed.

~ The End ~

#chocoholic fics #kurt hummel #isabelle wright #fixit

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inkbyajm · 3 years

Text

Something Brewing

pairing: C.H. x fem!reader

category: fluff

warnings: anxiety attack

word count: 1.5k

notes: felt like angst, felt like sobbing uncontrollably, but my body wouldn’t cooperate, so imagining it will do for now. this was supposed to be a one-shot, but i didn’t realise how much i had written. now i’m splitting it into two parts. next part will definitely be more angst than fluff, so stay tuned for the terrifying sight that is angry corpse :) (p.s. don’t mind the occasional use of british english, it’s my default lmao)

next >

A peculiar thing it was, the concept of love. It was very personal and feelings about it varied from person to person. For some, it had existed since the beginning of time, when Adam and Eve first walked the Earth, when the Almighty willed his beloved humans to lead their own lives with him in their hearts. For others, it is a feeling to long for, to crave, a feeling they found themselves daydreaming about often. And for the rest, love is a tool of ruin, potentially driving people who cared for one another away from each other, instilling at least a smidge of repulsion in each one of them. However, humans are social creatures after all, and sometimes, attraction was unavoidable no matter how much one tried. And try he did.

━

Living in California could get hard and stressful at times, but at least Corpse didn’t live at the heart of the city of anxiety-inducing social interactions and constant chaos that was Los Angeles. Sure, it meant that he didn’t live close to his friends, but he wasn’t far away from her, and that was enough for him.

A few soft grunts and sounds of slippers landing on the hardwood floor echoed from the kitchen of (Y/N)’s apartment. He got up from the couch in her living room and decided to investigate the source of the noise. Coming into the room, he saw her jumping to reach the highest shelf in one of the cupboards. Looking at it, he noticed her favourite mug sitting at the edge of said shelf and, afraid she would knock it over whilst attempting to grab it, he effortlessly got it for her. “Thank you. God, I was about to grow a foot taller trying to reach for this thing.” she sighed, eliciting a deep chuckle from him, “See, this is exactly why you’re my favourite friend.” Friend? Well, yes, of course a friend, what else would he be? Corpse felt an uncomfortable tug at his heart, and he couldn’t pinpoint the exact reason why he was feeling that way, so he brushed it aside. “Why was it that high up if you can’t even reach it?” (Y/N) wasn’t a short person, she was perfectly average, and he himself wasn’t that tall of a guy either. But when it came to situations of this kind, he couldn’t help but feel good about his being taller. “It usually isn’t, but I let (F/N) use it once the other day because she refused to drink out of any of the other mugs, that stubborn bitch.” she replied, pouring her homemade Italian hot chocolate into the acquired cup. (F/N) was also taller than (Y/N), so it was only natural for her to be putting things in higher places. It was done out of habit.

(Y/N) and Corpse walked back to the living room to once again settle into the couch. He glanced at her as she sat with her legs crossed, concentrated on blowing on her moderately hot beverage, while the light from the moon peeked through the curtains of the balcony door, illuminating her face ever so slightly. Since when did he start noticing these things? Looking away to set his eyes on the TV in front of them, he sensed his heart beating at an usual rhythm, palpitating, and along with it came slight lightheadedness. Was he having a heart attack? Were these signs of atrial fibrillation? Or was this simply the start of an anxiety attack? Surely any of these would be more...recognisable, to say the least. The only situation he could think of with similar reactions was when one would develop a crush. A fucking crush? At his age? How old was he, ten? “Earth to Corpse? Please don’t tell me you’re one of those people who sleep with their eyes open, that’s fucking creepy.” Her finger snaps pulled him out of whatever trance he was in. “Sorry, were you saying something?” “I asked you if you had watched Bly Manor like three times. You were very far away.” she answered, emitting a few giggles. “Sorry, I uh- I was thinking of something, but it’s stupid. And no, I haven’t, I’ve been meaning to, though.” And just like that, they settled on the show they were going to watch for the next couple of weeks.

━

“NOOOOOOO,” (Y/N) yelled, voicing her defeat “WHAT THE FUCK KIND OF LUCK IS THIS.” Corpse lay on the floor, slamming his palm down onto it out of hysterical laughter. They had been playing Unmatched for the past hour, this being their third round, and after many cards and a level of tension that could only be cut through with a saw, his Robin Hood had finally defeated her Alice. It was Corpse’s first time playing, so to say that his winning of all three games was a crushing moment for her was an understatement. “This is not normal, you lied saying you’ve never played before!” she pouted, putting everything back into the box, “I’m usually really good at this game.”

He wiped the tears from his eyes, struggling to keep a good composure. “I’m sorry, I guess I’ve found my talent,” he joked, but he did feel bad for stealing her thunder, “Would it make you feel better if I said that my Robin Hood is, like, extremely hurt right now? You have a fucking gigantic knife as a weapon, I only have, like, a bow and arrow. That’s kind of unfair.” (Y/N) bit her lip in hesitation, then picked up her figurine and lightly tapped it along the table to approach his. Putting Alice at a slight angle, she made a kissing sound as to imitate her character smooching his. “There, a kiss to make it better. I promise not to hurt you too much if you let me win next time.”

The same strange feeling he had experienced for the first time two months ago, when they were sitting on the couch of her living room, and many more times after that, had come back. He would’ve blamed it on heartburn, except it was nothing like it. It wasn’t anything he was used to. “Hey, you alright?” (Y/N) furrowed her brows in concern “You’ve been doing that a lot lately, rubbing your chest like that.” Fuck. He had never noticed the habit he had developed. “I’m fine, just me and my heart problems, nothing unusual.” Filthy liar. Brows still furrowed, she moved closer to him and, with her legs tucked under her, she put her hand above his heart to check. “Jesus, Corpse, your heart is going a million miles per hour! Are you sure you’re okay?”

Looking up at him, she noticed how red he had suddenly become, and this worried her even more. “Bubs, you’re literally changing colours.” How did she expect him not to when she was doing this? (Y/N) further inspected his condition and put the back of her hand on his forehead, then his cheeks, to check his temperature. Expectedly, he was getting warmer. She stopped for a second and listened intently, only to hear his shallow breathing fill the silence. She then glanced down at his left hand resting on his thigh, and surely enough, found it trembling. “Alright, Corpse? Hey, can you hear me?”

His breathing only picked up its pace as the seconds went by. On the spur of the moment, (Y/N) placed herself in front of him, her legs on either side, and gently cradled his head. “Corpse, darling, I’m gonna need you to look at me, okay? Focus on me, focus on my breathing, mm?” He forced himself to tear his gaze away from the ground and did as he was told, eyes darting around, analysing her expression. He’s never found himself having an attack in her presence, it was surprising how well she was handling it.

Wait- darling? Bubs? “Now, can you name four things that you see? Can you do that for me?” He briefly scanned the room for answers, his mind still cluttered. “The fridge, the couch, the light and-” Did she mean to call him that? It was probably nothing, she could be using it with any of her friends for all he knew. He wasn’t special. “and the game, the board game. On the table.” “Good, now can you name three things you hear?” This one took a lot of concentration, there weren’t many obvious sounds for him to point out. “The motorcycle outside, your hands rubbing against my skin, uh-” What the fuck else? Was he losing his mind? The task was simple enough, why was he having so much trouble with it? “I’m sorry, I- I don’t hear anything else.” “No, it’s okay. You’re doing splendid, see? Your breathing is much more stable.” she reassured him, squeezing his upper arms.

“Lastly, can you give me two things you can smell?” Nodding, he closed his eyes. “The coffee you drank earlier.” It took him a moment to come up with something else, and just as she was about to get off of his lap, figuring he had done a good enough job, she heard him mumble “your perfume”. Scared he’d get another attack, Corpse avoided looking into her eyes, which he could feel the gaze of. He only picked up on the scent from her shifting closer in the last second. “That’s funny, I had forgotten to put perfume on this morning.”

#corpse husband x reader #corpse x reader #corpse husband x you #corpse x you #corpse husband x y/n #corpse x y/n #corpse husband fic

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gnocchighoul · 4 years

Text

peach bubbles & cherry wine

Summary:

“Just once more, my love.” Lucifer says. You can feel the words as they move through his chest and past his lips—like the soft rumbles of a cat purring.

“Now be a good girl and spread your legs.”

A/N: inspired by a convo about Lucifer’s bathroom with @thedemonstherapist , and a drunk anon :D (definitely go check out her blog, she wrote something for this concept as well and it’s *chefs kiss*)

AO3 Portal

“Don’t move.”

“If I don’t I’ll drown!”

“Just—fuck, here.” Lucifer hooks his hands under your arms and lifts you up, just slightly out of the water. He straightens out his legs, still holding you up with the ease of a bodybuilder lifting an orange, and yeah, you’re a little bit jealous at how strong he is.

Warm water closes around your hips as he gently lowers you back into his lap, and you can’t help but think about all of the things you could accomplish if you had that supernatural strength. For instance: you could probably lift a car, all by yourself. Or a really heavy bookcase. A sturdy one, made from really expensive wood. Pink ivorywood. Dalbergia. Or—

Oh, what is wrong with you? Who even cares about all of the theoretical things you could do with unimaginable strength when you are literally butt ass naked in a tub with Lucifer! And you accomplished this all on your own, with only the vastly underrated power of puppy eyes.

Also, wine. So much wine.

You swirl what’s left in your glass—the red liquid twisting in a dark vortex. It swallows up the dim light of the bathroom—looks more black than red. You know that color intimately. It’s nearly the same shade as Lucifer’s eyes—gleaming bright in the dark room as he dripped cherry wine into the hollow of your belly button—lapped at the red juice with his fleshy tongue and got you all sticky.

Which is how you ended up here, lounging together in warm, bubbly water. Not that you’re complaining.

Honestly, if you had known how nice Lucifer's personal bathroom is, you would have set out on your quest to date bone him so much sooner.

It’s a lot like his room—far too much black. All doom and gloom and gold metal. Black floors. Black walls, carved of marble with gold veining, and a few floor to ceiling mirrors. The ceiling is a dizzying mural, saturated with (you guessed it) more black, but white and gray too. Sometimes, if you stare long enough—you think you can see shapes dancing in the fog of it.

(Though that may just be a hallucination conjured up by your alcohol addled brain.)

The best thing about Lucifer’s bathroom though, by a landslide, is the massive tub situated right in the center of the room. Carved entirely of smoky quartz and the size of a small pool, you could quite literally spend hours lazing around in bubble bath bliss. Which you do, quite often. It’s borderline an obsession at this point.

(The first time you commandeered the bathtub, you had read an entire book in one sitting—as you were finishing up the last chapter, Lucifer had burst into the room all feathery and freaked out and totally convinced that you had managed to somehow drown yourself. A fair assumption—in his defense, you had been awfully quiet.)

With a tub like this, you would never use the shower again. And yet, for some horrible and awful reason, Lucifer insists that the shower is better. (Which is actually quite nice as well, but that’s neither here nor there.) When you had interrogated him about it, he just casually confessed that he hardly ever used the beautiful tub. Said something about 'showers are just more practical’. Pah. What does he know? Nothing, apparently.

But now? Well, it isn’t a challenge to coax him in with you.

Lucifer tips his head back against the cool ledge of the tub, eyes sliding shut. “Who’s idea was this anyways?”

You down the rest of your wine, scrunching your face like an accordion when the bitter flavor bursts on your tongue. “Yours.”

“That can’t be right.”

“Well it’s not left."

Lucifer groans loudly, acting like your totally great joke caused him real physical pain, and you tch at him.

You lean into him—rest the back of your head on his shoulder and set your empty wineglass aside on the broad, flat rim of the tub. His right arm snakes around your waist, tugging you up tight against his chest, fingertips tracing shapes into the side of your ribs and sending shivers racing across your skin.

You eye the mountain of white bubbles in front of you—lift a poofy handful out of the water. The smell of peaches brightens the room—all sun kissed and sweet.

You wonder if Lucifer is drunk enough to let you give him a bubble beard.

"Hey, babe—"

"Don't even think about it."

"Wh—you don’t even know what I was going to say!"

Lucifer nuzzles his nose into your hair. "Keep the bubbles away from my face."

"...You’re such a killjoy sometimes."

“Am I?” He threads his fingers through your hair—pulls slowly to tilt your head to the side and ghosts his lips over your neck, pausing to nip at your pulse point. Slides one hand over your breast, rolling your hard nipple between his soft fingers.

You feel it again, then—the pleasant ache still between your thighs, softened by the water's warmth settling into your body.

Lucifer bites down on your neck with sharp incisors, pulling a soft mewl from you.

You squirm. “Again?”

You’re not actually surprised. Saturdays are devoted just to the two of you—marathon fucking and unwinding from the weekly chaos. It’s a necessary tradition, especially after a week like this previous one. You had barely seen your beloved, thanks to his boyfriend keeping him busy .

(Lu has made it very clear that Diavolo isn’t his side piece, but like. Would it really be that bad if he was? You could invite him over for your Saturday Fuckfest, which is a very appealing thought. Who wouldn’t want a piece of that princely cake?)

“Just once more, my love.” Lucifer says. You can feel the words as they move through his chest and past his lips—like the soft rumbles of a cat purring. “Now be a good girl and spread your legs.”

Fuck. He sure as hell doesn’t need to tell you twice.

His fingertips skate down your stomach, deftly moving lower to brush teasingly over your clit and your head lolls back with a strangled little mewl. You turn to the side—he captures your lips with his own, swallows down your little cries. Tastes like cherry wine and dark chocolate.

It’s too much, and not nearly enough. The damp slick of his chest against your bare back, his hand cupping your breast. He toys with you slowly, teasingly, pressing only the lightest of touches to your clit, and you want—need—more. You rock your hips back, right up against his aching cock and he hisses—pinches your nipple and slips his fingers inside of you in tandem, stretching you wide and exploring as you desperately grind against his hand.

He spent all day teasing you—pushing you to the brink and then taking his sweet time unraveling you. Playing you like a finely tuned instrument until tears pricked at your eyes and you dissolved into a begging, whimpering puddle. That fire still burns in your belly—kindled back to life, red hot and unforgiving as he presses his fingers deeper inside of you.

When it comes to fucking, Lucifer is far more patient than you are—something he’s proven a thousand times over. He enjoys it—breaking you. Ruining you. Pushing you to the brink and leaving you there, time and time again.

But right now—you want more than just his skillful fingers.

You squirm out of Lucifer’s grip, confusing him for all of two seconds, until you turn around and straddle his strong thighs. Bubbles stick to your arms and tummy like little clouds.

“I want you inside me.” you pout.

“Was I just not?” he says, cheekily, and you glare.

He suddenly bucks his hips up once into your own, threatening your already questionable balance—nearly sends you careening face first into his shoulder. Sudsy water sloshes over the dark rim of the tub as you steady yourself by placing both hands on his chest. You glare at his smug fucking face.

His eyes, vibrant and jarring, meet yours—sparkling with delight. Crimson shot through with so much black that you’re not sure where the pupil ends anymore.

You grab his chin with your slick hand—dig your fingers into his jaw and pull him into a bruising kiss, all teeth and tongue and heat. Relish the taste of his mouth and the slide of his lips, wordlessly begging for what you want.

He grins against your mouth. “Such a needy little thing.”

You don’t entertain him with a reply—just grind your hips down on his cock, catching your throbbing clit, leaving you keening.

He sucks the plush of your bottom lip into his mouth and bites as you sink down on the heavy weight of cock, inch by agonizing inch until he’s buried to the hilt. He murmurs praise against your lips as he fills your pussy to the brim—sends white hot sparks shooting up your spine. You burn.

Experimentally, you roll your hips. Lucifer meets you halfway—always does. Grinds his hips languidly into yours, easing the painful stretch of his cock between your walls into a pleasant fullness. There’s no urgency—he’s already ravaged your sweet, tight cunt.

Lucifer feasts on your mewls—swallows them whole as he thrusts his hips up, sloshing more water over the tub rim. His hands dig into your hip as he grinds up into you with sharp, short jabs—buries his face into the crook of your neck and bites down hard. Draws blood to the surface and lingers there. Leaves behind berry-red marks.

Your nipples rub against his chest and you grip his shoulders—dig your nails into the taut, firm lines of muscle. Your thighs tremble as you bounce on his cock, rocking down faster—needy.

Heat spirals and coils in your belly, winding tighter and tighter until your blood is singing with it, leaving you breathless and dizzy and alight. He snakes a hand down between your legs—fingers finding your clit and your hips spasm, squeezing him so tight that it pulls a hiss from him.

Your climax hits you hard—steals your breath away and makes your vision all fuzzy and dark. Your walls clench and Lucifer pulls your hips down, again and again and again, spurred on by your gasping and whimpering. Dragging your tight, warm pussy on his pulsating cock as he floods your womb with his seed.

As his cock softens inside of you, he releases that bruising grip on your hips—tugs you into a close embrace with absolutely no possibility of escape, squishing your slippery breasts against his chest. Heart drumming a furious beat beneath your skin, you wrap your arms around his neck and melt into his arms.

For a few beats, it’s silent. You can tell that he wants to say something—he’s practically buzzing with words unspoken.

You lean back to see his face properly and tap the pad of your pointer finger against his chest. “Out with it, handsome.”

“You know that I love you.” A statement, followed up by a softer, “Right?”

A smile tugs at your lips. As if that’s even a question.

“Well I'd certainly hope so, because you're stuck with me. Forever.”

He rolls his eyes, but the corners of his mouth slide upwards into that dazzling grin you love so damn much. Then he shifts his hips, reminding you that he's still very much inside of you, and nudges his cock over that little patch inside of you that makes you see sparks but is also far too sensitive right now. Your breath leaves you in one great big whoosh and you bite down hard on your swollen lip.

"You're so mean."

Lucifer hums in agreement, looking far too thrilled by your reaction. Presses a kiss to your jaw and murmurs, "Say it back."

"What?"

He leans back. Searches out your gaze and meets it with his own. "Say that you love me."

Oh.

You would think he'd be reassured by the fact that his dick is literally still inside you, but… you suppose it wouldn’t hurt to use your words, too.

You hold his hand—link your pinky finger with his own and say, "I love you."

It’s a promise.

You relax back into his arms, content to just sit quietly amidst the peach-scented bubbles and confessions.

…For about ten seconds.

“So… About that bubble beard…”

Lucifer scoffs. Presses a kiss to your temple and smiles there.

He really does love you.

#woohoo this is my first smut fic *insert kermit dancing gif*#om! smut #obey me smut #obey me lemon #gnocchiwrites #obey me drabble #obey me #om! lucifer #swd obey me #obey me lucifer #obey me fanfic

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pride-moth · 3 years

Text

If you were church, I'd get on my knees [Stolitz Week Day 4 - Wedding]

Ao3 Link

Event Info Link

The paparazzi are everywhere. They sit in the trees, in the windows of neighboring buildings, in the cars on the adjacent streets, some have even made their way onto the premises. They’ve been taking pictures of everything all morning. Of the seating area, the flower arrangements, the early guests, even the waiters. They’re prepared to fill the tabloids with the most scandalous wedding in hell. A Prince and an imp. The highest and the lowest. It’s gossip pages simply filling themselves.

They’re prepared for everything. Except for the ceremony not happening in the elaborately-staged venue. They will sit there for hours until dawn comes and there’s still nobody there, except the guests and waiters who have been roaming the place since the morning. “We’ve been duped,” someone will say eventually but nobody will have any idea what to do next.

Sometime in the afternoon, the real wedding congregation is happening in the I.M.P headquarters, with only a handful of people and a private wedding photographer. Everything is decorated in the crispiest shade of white they could find. It’s smaller and simpler than the fake venue they’ve coordinated, but it’s still stunning and gorgeous and perfect, and Stolas is slowly losing his mind in his little pre-room where Millie and Octavia are doing their best to keep him together. He picks at his white suit, wrings his hands and runs to the mirror every single minute to check himself.

“You need to calm down,” Via says, slightly exasperated considering Stolas hasn’t exactly been calm in hours, “Everything’s going to be fine.”

“What if it isn’t? What if the paparazzi come here? What if they find out? What if Blitz decides he doesn’t want to marry me after all?”

“Blitz is…” Millie says while fine-tuning her own hair, “Not gonna lie, I didn’t think he’d ever marry. Didn’t seem like the type. But he’s decided to marry you and that’s something, right. Plus, you’ve gotten married before, you know how it works.”

“That was so long ago, I scarcely remember.”

“The point is there’s no reason to be nervous, everything is going to run smoothly.” Millie gives him a hearty pat on the back.

“Weren’t you nervous when you and Moxxie married?”

“Oh, I wasn’t, Moxxie almost lost it, though. But do you know what I told him?”

“What?”

“That marriage isn’t that big a deal. We love each other before the big party and we’ll love each other after the big party, just with more tax benefits.”

“That’s not very romantic…” Via remarks from across the room.

“It’s true, though, isn’t it?” Millie shrugs. “You’re just having a big party to celebrate how much you love each other. And to get tax benefits.”

“Maybe.”

“So, don’t worry about it! Also, there’s no paparazzi, they’re still swarming the fake venue, Moxxie has CCTV on them.”

“Thank you, for organizing this whole thing, I just… Didn’t want to do this with the press present. It’s… I don’t know, it feels less special when everyone gets to watch, you know?”

“No problem, and now get out there and marry my boss!”

Stolas takes a deep breath and his daughter by his hand and walks out of the room.

He walks in with Blitz already waiting in bated breath, wearing a matching white suit that makes him look just obscenely handsome and when their eyes finally meet, it’s as though all worries fall off him in an instant. It’s going to be fine, Stolas thinks, maybe all of it is going to be fine. Forever.

“You look great,” he says shyly and takes both of Blitz’ hands.

“You are absolutely smoking hot,” Blitz responds. Stolas chuckles.

Next to them, Loona, their impromptu officiator, clears her throat to get their attention. “So, uhm, again, can someone explain to me why we’re doing this all proper and pseudo-Christian??”

“Because I like to spite the establishment which I’m marrying into. Also, Christian weddings have a very good aesthetic, we’ve been over this, now ask us for our vows, Loonie,” Blitz replies sharply.

“Okay, sure, uhm, vows please?”

Stolas breathes in deeply. “Blitz, when you came into my life, I never could have imagined standing here with you now. You were loud, abrasive, vulgar and… Well, you still are all of these things, but now I love you for it. Now I want to listen to talk about nothing and rant about your least favorite fruit all day. I want to hear your voice from morning to evening and I won’t tire of it. When I met you… I thought you would be nothing but a tiny speck on my night sky. Seen once, but quickly forgotten. But now I know you’re the brightest star of them all, always leading my way. I love you and I wish to always find my way to you.”

There is some sniffling in the room, though someone is probably also throwing up.

“Wow, okay. Dad, would you like to go next?” Loona says, then, her voice shaking just the tiniest bit.

Blitz looks around and takes a deep breath. “I’ve never been lucky with relationships before, they were… Yeah, they were all pretty terrible. And I didn’t even plan on having one with you for a long time, frankly. But… You know, sometimes you don’t really have a choice. You don’t want to fall in love with the weird bird prince. You just want to get his book and you have sex with him to do, but… It becomes more than that and that’s why we’re here now. Because I love you, even though it took me a long time to accept that. And I can’t wait to be married to you and rail you in the Hellton Hotel honeymoon suite.”

There’s an uncomfortable silence for a moment. A silent, disturbed “What?” comes from Octavia.

“What?! Do you think I’m not gonna fuck my husband harder than ever before in our wedding night? Fucking prudes.”

Loona clears her throat again. “So, uhm, right. Stolas, do you wish to take Blitz over here as your husband?”

“Yes, of course I do!”

“Great. Dad. Blitz. whatever. Do you wish to take Stolas here as your husband?”

“Hell yeah, let’s go!”

“Good, then blah blah something something by the power of whatever is going on here, I pronounce you two married. But please wait until after the party with whatever you two want to do to each other…”

“And…?” Blitz says.

“Oh, right, yeah. You may now kiss. As if you need my permission for that. ...Wait, we didn’t even do the thing with the rings yet!”

But they’re already kissing. And so they share this, their first kiss as husbands, it feels exactly the same as always in the best way possible. They’ve kissed before, hundreds upon thousands of times, and this time is no different, it’s an intuitive motion, a well-practiced one, carried out with pure trust and comfort.

And yet, it absolutely is different because that kiss now carries a promise. A promise for many, many years of more kisses, years of just them, together.

The party goes into the dead of night, people dancing and drinking all in celebration of their love, it’s an almost surreal concept. Octavia gets drunk for the first time and that’s a whole piece of work, but Loona is there for her, them being sisters now and all.

But in the Hellton Hotel honeymoon suite they’ve booked for the night, nothing much actually happens because they’re drunk and tired and exhausted, so all they do is cuddle up against each other in the gratuitous pink bed and fall asleep soundly, secure in the knowledge that there’s more than enough time for everything else during the rest of their lives.

The next day, the tabloids will be filled with only one picture, the one their own wedding photographer made, the one they actually want the world to see on their own terms. It shows them, in their matching white suits, Stolas with one hand on Blitz’ hips and a content smile on his face while Blitz has his tongue out and gives the camera the middle finger.

#helluva boss #stolas x blitz #stolas x blitzo #stolitz #stolitz week #fanfiction #my writing #wedding fic

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c-is-for-circinate · 3 years

Text

So as close as I am to fully escaping Hades for the first time, I figure I might take this opportunity to write down a couple of things I'm scared of from this ending. The story is so good so far! But I have seen good stories before! And there are patterns, right, patterns it's so easy for even good stories to fall into, so yeah, I have fears, and they mostly come down to Hades himself.

(Yep, this one got long again! People seem to be enjoying my game-reaction rambles, so, for your enjoyment under the cut: themes of separation and reunion, predictions for what Zagreus is the god of, and a whole lot of discussion of familial abuse dynamics, how they're depicted in fiction, and the work it takes to change them in real life. Stay warned! Stay safe!)

(ALSO, I still haven't made it past the first couple of chambers in the Temple of Styx, so no spoilers in the reblogs/comments please! Yes, even though the whole post is me going on about predictions and hopes and concerns about the path the story might take. I WILL GET THERE SOON.)

It has been really interesting watching some of the stuff the game is doing with themes of parting and reunion, and how that corresponds to life and death. So many of our social links are about reuniting estranged loved ones: Chaos and Nyx, Eurydice and Orpheus, Patroclus and Achilles. Hades is estranged from Olympus, Persephone left. And every time we leave, or try to leave, it is both an attempt at a parting (and Meg and Than are so hurt by that goodbye, or lack thereof) and an attempt at a reunion with our mother. Every time we die it's a reunion, every time we die it's fun, it's great, we get to go back home and check in with all of our friends and be impressed by whoever made Employee Of The [Timeperiod] and sell fish to the cook and put down yet more rugs. (My Zagreus has something of a rug addiction. What can you do.)

It's at the point where I feel pretty secure in stating that Zagreus is going to discover eventually that he is both life/death/rebirth god, and god of partings and reunions. Both halves of both of those things. People leave each other when they die and re-find their loved ones in death; you go away from one group of people to come back to another; you have to depart to return, and I really think that's where we're going to end up with Zagreus. He's going to reunite his various friends with their loved ones, he's probably going to restore communications between Hades and Olympus and even Persephone, he's going to reunite with his mom, and he's going to come back to the Underworld before he leaves to see everyone up top all over again. And of course the vehicle for all of this coming and going is death, because death is the ultimate departure and reuniter. (This is absolutely a religious concept containing a whole bunch of "oh hey our culture has a lot of Christian influence, doesn't it", Greek trappings aside, but that's fine, it's a game made in 2018 not 300 BC, these things happen. They keep calling the Underworld 'hell' and 'infernal'. It's all good.) Of course he's a cthonic god. Of course he bleeds, because you have to bleed in order to die, and Zagreus has to die again and again and again. That's his whole thing.

Thing is, though, looking at those themes, I am also continually aware of the fact that some partings are for a really good reason. Some partings should not end in reunion.

Yes, of course this is about Hades the abusive dad. I have been talking about Hades the abusive dad basically non-stop since I started playing this game, where did you think this post was going.

There are a few things I'm nervous about, separate but related, and at the core it all comes down to, I'm not okay with it if we learn why Hades got to be this way, and Zagreus forgives him as we-the-audience are meant to do, and Hades promises to do better, and nothing concrete about the situation is forced to change. Actual, meaningful, practical, logistical, non-hypothetical non-metaphorical change, not just for Zagreus but for Hades himself.

Because I know how this story tends to go, in fiction. Fictional abusive parents (especially in fantasy/sci-fi stories) tend to come in two types: 'coerced their offspring into actual murder with a side of physical abuse and optional unethical lab experimentation', or 'this was here to create character conflict, we didn't mean for it to read as actually abusive, this parent just has flaws to make them a good character, we swear!' Hades isn't the first type--we have never once seen Hades strike his son, or anybody, or even come out from behind his desk--which means that the fear is, always, always, in every piece of fiction, that he's the second. That the writers are going to decide that the right response to his abuses is remorse, forgiveness, and one really good conversation. That they don't realize it's abuse in the first place.

And, like. They have to know, right? They have to. They can't have done this by accident. (Sometimes, writers get so close by accident.) They can't have done so well at drawing out this situation simply by going, 'well, people are meant to fear this god, so they'd probably react like this, and I guess based on what I've seen in other stories or vague acquaintances they'd then do this,' and never put the name on the situation. Every single time we leave to the tune of a Hades word-flash, he's being dismissive, insulting, and sometimes downright cruel. He is cruel. They have to know!!!

But oh boy have I been consuming media for a lot of years, and oh boy have I run into a lot of writers who don't know.

Reconciliation is such a loaded word, but stories about dysfunctional families really do love it. Stories based around themes of reunion are primed for it. And of course, it's nice, it ties a happy ending off with a sweet little bow, everyone gets to be with the people they love and the family is safe and nobody gets hurt, but so rarely have I seen stories that show the actual work required to rebuild those relationships in a realistic or meaningful way. So rarely do stories trying to build that happy ending actually let the victim of abuse set and maintain boundaries. The character never gets to actually just cut the damn ties to the thing that hurt them. The character so rarely even gets to be safe.

And it's so hard in this game specifically, because "THERE IS NO ESCAPE", because every single thing about this game says that the story's not over when Zagreus gets to the surface, that no matter what he's going to have to come back. It's so hard, because this is a game about reunions. I am not going to get an ending where the abused kid trying to flee his toxic home and abusive dad actually gets to leave and stay gone, not in this one. And that hurts (I have watched and supported and done my best to help multiple real-life friends get the fuck out of homes like that, and stay gone, I have seen how hard it is, how complicated, how awful, and there are never stories for that), but I can live with it, if I get an ending where Zagreus is at least safe. Where things change. Where they really change.

Which is why I need actual, concrete, material changes in the logistics and power structure of the Underworld for this ending to be okay. Understanding why Hades is Like That doesn't cut it. Remorse doesn't cut it! Because look, even if Hades wants to do better, even if he admits he's at fault and tries to be better, he is still set up in a position as an all-powerful tyrant, and trying to become a better person is hard. There is nobody around who can keep him in check when he starts backsliding, which he will. Even if he doesn't want to, he will.

Because people are people, and it's really difficult to break patterns! Especially if everything around them stays the same. Hades is going to slip at some point, be cruel, be callous, be tyrannical, no matter how much of an effort he's making. Not to mention, it is STRESSFUL to face your own crimes and improve, it sucks, it feels bad. And what do habitual abusers do when they feel bad? What's the only coping mechanism Hades appears to have established for dealing with his own shit? That's right, it's inflicting suffering on everyone else around him. (This is why it doesn't really matter what circumstances drove Hades to act this way, why it can't matter--I believe that he is suffering, but he copes with that suffering by inflicting additional suffering on everyone around him, everyone who relies on him, and that's still true no matter what made him feel bad to begin with.) So then we just get a great old guilt-->lashing out-->more guilt-->more lashing out merry-go-round of abuse even as Hades is trying to change. That's how these things work. And yes, change is possible, improvement is absolutely possible, but the environment needs to change first. The system that enables and rewards Hades for acting this way can't stay in place. Things need to actually change, with people who are around to support Hades in his growth and also check his power, people who have power of their own to stop him. And however it happens, for this story with this protagonist with these goals to feel like a happy ending, Zagreus needs to be safe.

It would be okay, though a little disappointing, if those changes were mostly based in magic and fate and, idk, divine mind-control. (This story has been so grounded in actual human dynamics that a fantastical solution to a realistic problem would feel like a letdown, but if it actually solved the problem I'd be okay with it, more or less.) It would be okay, though a little disappointing, if the responsibility for bringing Hades to heel fell upon Zagreus and Persephone, if the two family members who he hurt badly enough that they felt the need to run away from him entirely now had to shoulder the burden of helping him fix himself. (There are definitely ways to write that dynamic better and ways to write it worse, and I think I trust these writers to land on the 'better' side of the scale, but I still don't love the implications.) I think I'd be pretty into it if Hades took a vacation off to Olympus to Work Out His Shit with his own family, while a coalition of Meg, Nyx, Thanatos, Zagreus, and Queen Persephone took over running the Underworld in his absence. I think we might end up getting some combination of those things. I'm hopeful. I think these writers might know what they've written. I think they might have a sense for what it'll take to fix.

But yeah, I'm nervous. (Nervous enough that I might switch to God Mode just to get through, combat has started getting really tedious instead of fun, I want to know what happens next, and this is a game and there is no shame in making it more fun for myself by making the boring parts a little quicker and easier.) I've seen so many stories go wrong. This one has done so much to earn my trust. We'll see if it breaks.

#Hades game #Hades spoilers #driveby meta attack #C plays stuff #I have so much hope!!!!~!#I have so much fear!!!!!#DO NOT TELL ME WHAT THE ANSWER IS GOING TO BE!!!!!

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tanoraqui · 4 years

Text

tanoraqui

Still thinking about an au in which for some reason WWX and the Wens are left to just live peacefully on the creepy death mountain - some detente wherein they don’t leave the mountain ever and in exchange no one tries to visit ever. Borders patrolled by corpses and sect disciples. So A-Yuan grows up raised kind of collectively but mostly by WWX and Wen Qing (the one most likely to tell WWX that he’s doing it wrong), and learns healing-focused spiritual cultivation AND demonic cultivation, and then at some point starts sneaking out to be the terrifying force of righteous kindness he was always going to be

tanoraqui

Righteous kindness but also, like, having picked up WWX’s cavalier confidence (or at least some of the ability to fake it) and Wen Qing’s general attitude of Do No Harm But Take No Shit

Like IMAGINE

tanoraqui

In this au, despite the strict border-by-mutual-agreement that’s the only reason somehow no ones tried to attack, LWJ sneaks in like one a year so he and WWX can make eyes at one another but not actually say anything ever, and Wen Qing and LXC are both EXHAUSTED bc both their dumb little brothers (WWX is a sibling by adoption now don’t @ me) mope for like a week after EVERY SINGLE TIME THIS HAPPENS, and it’s been /over ten years/.

tanoraqui

Meanwhile Jiang YanLi and JZX are FINE, and JYL somehow keeps up some sort of correspondence with WWX - or at least, he’s faithfully managed to send a birthday present for Jin Ling every single year, and every time, JYL makes her son write a thank-you note and bribes some series of people to get it smuggled back to Yiling

tanoraqui

...which means, honestly, that Jin Ling is probably wildly curious about his uncle the evil demonic cultivator kept trapped within the terrible ghost mountain by the forces of Good and Right, and WILL sneak out one day to try to visit. Optimally, obviously, at the same time Wen Yuan is sneaking out to see the non-mountain world

tanoraqui

The optimal plot is that Wen Yuan ropes Jin Ling into helping him set up WWX and LWJ, because he, too, is exasperated at this point, and Jin Ling ropes Wen Yuan into arranging like a parent trap reunion for the Jiang siblings, and obviously there are monsters and undead to complicate it all

tanoraqui

They kind of acquire Lan Jingyi somewhere, somehow. He’s having a blast

There is a 100% chance that the first Adult(TM) to find them is Wen Ning and they just kind of rope him into whatever the hell is going on at the time

...you know what, I think this is just a good au where JGY fucking died at some point

tanoraqui

Maybe someone threw him down the stairs again and he just broke his fucking neck. WWX is still vilified but between Jiang Cheng not really wanting to attack and Jiang (Jin?) Yanli being AGGRESSIVELY against it, and dragging JZX along with her, they’re left in peace.

tanoraqui

Oh man and Jin Ling has YOUNGER SIBLINGS in this...

Hey for u: Jiang Cheng/Wen Qing can accidentally happen while the Teens are trying to get everyone else to meet

Today at 8:42 AM

@professorsparklepants

I love this it's so goddamn wacky

tanoraqui

I just want teenager-based shenanigans ft. surprisingly competent teenagers and all the adults running around like chickens with their heads chopped off

professorsparklepants

Jingyi: why are you two more calm about this than the literal adults

Wen Yuan: have you met my dad?

tanoraqui

Also to be clear it is not at all hard to convince Wen Ning to join Team: Teenage Shenanigans, bc literally ANYONE in the Burial Mountain village would probably be down if you were like, “we’re engaged in a conspiracy to make Wei Wuxian fucking admit that he’s in love with that Lan guy who visits a couple times a year”

professorsparklepants

"This is my father, and this is his sugar daddy."

tanoraqui

I kinda wanna say he goes by “Wen Yuan” more often bc he’s 100% the baby of the entire remaining Wen clan there, but his adult name or w/e it’s called IS Wen Sizhui, because WWX asked LWJ if he had any suggestions and LWJ said this while maintaining eye contact

professorsparklepants

OH MY GOOOOOOD

tanoraqui

They meet LXC and he figures out what’s going on in like 4 minutes, despite the teens’ best attempts at obfuscation, and instead of calling anyone’s parents is like, “okay, I’m in”

professorsparklepants

#1 wingman...

tanoraqui

Jin Ling and Wen Yuan are definitely both traveling under false names, too? Wen Yuan obviously can’t admit to being a Wen and Jin Ling is making a privileged but slightly helicoptered teen’s rebellious bid for freedom

professorsparklepants

His dad is panicking at home and Yanli is like "boys need their freedom :)"

I saw a post forever ago about how Yanli would be the most hands off parent & Zixuan is an only child who would panic every time his kid fell down

tanoraqui

With a side order of “my mother is the only one who’ll say nice things about the Yiling Patriarch and she always looks sad when she does so I’m going to sneak into the Burial Mountain and either drag him out to see her or force my parents to come get me”

professorsparklepants

"I'm gonna beat up the Yiling Patriarch" "why" "he made my mom sad" "okay proceed"

tanoraqui

^ actual real conversation with WenYuan

professorsparklepants

A-Yuan then repeats the same thing to Wen Qing and she has the exact same answer, verbatim

tanoraqui

Side note: Wen Yuan has never been scared of the undead in his entire life, and probably this will lead to getting into severely life-threatening situations when he doesn’t have more backup than 2 other teenagers

professorsparklepants

Oh absolutely

professorsparklepants

He's so used to tuning out the sound of sentry corpses that one jumps on him and almost punches his lungs out

tanoraqui

Also what if he took WWX’s sword, so he looks like a proper normal cultivator - honestly, what if WWX gave him the sword when he turned 12, or whenever one customarily gives a child a sword in this world. He also has a flute stashed in his robe somewhere but he does know how to use both

tanoraqui

But also, while obviously it’s very important that this is the sword he inherited from his father, it’s never OCCURRED to him to, like, strongly associate it with WWX, in terms of “this would be a recognizable weapon”? Chenqing the flute, obviously, but WWX just left the sword on a shelf all the time

professorsparklepants

He's very good at fooling people into thinking he's a normal rogue cultivator until he busts out the flute

LOL YES

tanoraqui

So the first time someone looks at him and is like, “That is WWX’s sword” he achieves, like, “Who’s Morales? [NOT THAT DUMB]” levels of blank-brained

professorsparklepants

It like, doesn't even occur to him that this stick named whatever will be recognizable to people until it actually happens

"this is the Yiling Patriarch's sword!" "... I've never heard of him"

tanoraqui

“What sword?”

professorsparklepants

KDJAKSNJS

tanoraqui

“Oh, THIS sword? I...found it. In a stream.”

tanoraqui

Also...at some point...once the teens have admitted their identities to one another...and possibly gotten into a couple other increasingly public shenanigans...they run into a bunch of concerned people searching from the Jin or even Jiang sect - JC being there would be PERFECT - and Jin Ling is like, “aaahh, no, I don’t want to be dragged home... kidnap me.”

WY: what?

JL: pull out the flute, summon a couple corpses, shout that you’re the dread son of the Yiling Patriarch, and pretend to kidnap me

WY: ...yeah okay

AND THEN THEY DO THAT

professorsparklepants

The dumbass energy...... off the CHARTS

tanoraqui

They’re 15 and neither of them has ever faced consequences but in...actually not too different ways

They’re 15 and neither of them as ever faced consequences nor most of the real world

Oh my god is Lan Jingyi the most sensible person here

They’re going to DIE

professorsparklepants

JXHAKAJAKKQHSJA

JC and Yanli immediately see through this probably

"dumbass kid just doesn't want to go home. I'll break his legs."

tanoraqui

I think Yanli does but I have minimal faith in JC’s ability to think logically at any time

He’s still angry at WWX for leaving

professorsparklepants

Stomps to Yiling to demand his nephew back & wwx's like "lol, A-Yuan left two months ago"

Okay my shift is starting later

tanoraqui

/snort

Though, bold of you to assume that WWX isn’t also running around anxiously somewhere like “oh god, oh no, my son is missing; I must find him”

professorsparklepants

Sizhui is a responsible boy, I don't think he would leave without telling at least ONE person where he was going

tanoraqui

Ok but it was Wen Qing who thinks it’s good for WWX’s health to stop brooding and go run around like a headless chicken instead, optimally if he runs into his totally-not-a-boyfriend-Hahahaha-why-would-you-say-that

Alternately it was, like, Granny, which, ditto

No one on this mountain is going to stop WWX from going out to cause trouble and hopefully get laid, is my point

tanoraqui

Also, the cultivation world has been basically at peace for 13 years and the reason is that this is an ideal AU where JGY is dead and whenever trouble starts to stir politically, NHS and JYL meet eyes across the room and mentally Rock Paper Scissors over who has to manipulate everyone into calming the fuck down

Neither of them actually wants this job; they’re just good at it and recognize both those aspects in each other

professorsparklepants

LOLOLOL

That is.... so goddamn in character

tanoraqui

concept: JYL and NHS are friends and no one else understands it, or attributes it to JYL just being that nice, bc NHS still generally acts useless

professorsparklepants

Nhs actively wants to be useless and life is conspiring to make sure he can't

tanoraqui

a little less dramatically useless, but why ruin a good thing when you're having fun and it's useful

professorsparklepants

Lol

tanoraqui

but JYL fucking identified him as Actually Competent one time when he couldn't hide it, so now sometimes they get tea together and bitch about politics and stupid people

professorsparklepants

He's the only person who can correctly identify when she's talking shit about people, because it's VERY subtle and her brothers & husband are too busy thinking she hung the moon to notice

tanoraqui

JYL striding into Nie sect HQ (whatever it's called) and tossing her coat over a chair. "You would not BELIEVE what my brothers are doing now."

NHS: *probably knows, because he's found that the minor investment of effort in maintaining a very good spy network pays major dividends in helping him avoid greater work* *immediately sits up and pours her a cup of very expensive tea* Oh, girl, dish.

professorsparklepants

Question: are they also friends with lwj...

tanoraqui

yes but he's obviously not invited to hte political gossip sessions

professorsparklepants

I'm trying to imagine lwj making eye contact with them at some meeting his brother dragged him to and both of them struggling not to break into hysterics

tanoraqui

but they both know that he sneaks into Yiling to visit WWX a few times a year, and every single time, JYL sits him down within a couple weeks and aggressively debriefs him as to her brother's condition

professorsparklepants

I'm sure she tried to get him to take treats in

tanoraqui

for sure

it's hopeless, though, bc there's no really predicting WHEN he'll go? It's basically just "every 4-6 months when LWJ's resolve breaks"

professorsparklepants

Too bad she's not a stress quilter instead of a stress baker

tanoraqui

she gets him to go at an actual arranged time, bearing pork soup, like once, for WWX's 30th birthday or something

professorsparklepants

tanoraqui

omg lit brain: LWJ of course is hte WORST for getting gossip, but JYL has pieced together a reasonable amount about the people her idiot baby brother (#2) is now living with. And she's mildly despairing as to idiot baby brother #1's ongoing refusal to get married and have an heir or three. So she, if not actively connives, then certainly siezes the first available opportunity to set Jiang Cheng up with Wen Qing

tanoraqui

basically, this au is PEAK romcom

tanoraqui

...also, for max happiness, i'd like to think that WWX made some strategic raids to rescue additional Wen refugees and bring them back, so there's a properly populated village and they didn't all just die

professorsparklepants

!!!

Good... Good thoughts

Good because 1. more people die and 2. The Yiling Patriarch will attack your village and steal your people away!

tanoraqui

(romcom being exclusively adults-focussed; the teens initiate it all but Jin Ling and Wen Yuan are both so delighted to have an Additional (But Cooler) Family Member that they comfortably cousinzone each other instantly)

professorsparklepants

*nice*

tanoraqui

...i feel like i keep characterizing Jin Ling as an only child, when really he ought to have a small horde of siblings

maybe they just...couldn't conceive more. shit happens. pregnancy is hard.

professorsparklepants

That happens sometimes

#mdzs #the untamed #ficlet #my fic #lan sizhui #jin ling #lan jingyi #(not actually here much; rip)#wen ning #wei wuxian #lan wangji #jiang yanli #nie huaisang #lan xichen #wen qing

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harrywritingsbyme · 4 years

Note

N. 17 “Fucking try me.” PLEASE

Fucking Try Me

17. “Fucking try me.”

Based off of this ask

Prompt List

A/N: This is so hot I can’t even function. You’re welcome🥴🥵 Enjoy🙃

You and Harry had a great and VERY active sex life. So active that Jeff has walked into many of your not so private rendezvous. The two of you couldn’t get enough of each other and if you needed each other, you just did it. Didn’t matter where you were, if you wanted each other, you were going to find a way.

A few nights ago, the two of you were invited out to dinner with Jeff and Glenne. But just as you were about to head downstairs to leave, Harry comes out of the bathroom and catches a glimpse of your outfit for the evening.

“I hope you weren’t planning on us just leaving and not let me fuck you.”

“Well if we are going to fuck, can you bend me over the couch? It’ll make it easier for us to leave afterwards.” You exit out of the room, with a needy Harry right behind you. The two of you then proceeded down the stairs to which you were almost immediately bent over the arm of your couch. Your jeans and panties were pulled all the way down to your ankles and Harry’s mouth was on you. Normally you wouldn’t be into spitting. But with Harry it was like you needed it all of the time. You couldn’t get enough of him spitting on you. Whether it be in your mouth or on your pussy, you absolutely loved it. You were already wet, because how could you not be when you were around Harry? Just for him to spit on both of your holes; you were completely dripping.

For the next 15 minuets, the sounds of Harry’s skin harshly slapping against yours and your combined moans resonate through the otherwise quiet house. You could feel his fingers digging into your hips as he slammed his hips into yours, causing you to dig your nails into the couch cushions. By the time you two left the house, your once perfectly curled hair was now straight and sweaty, you were walking on wobbly legs, and you smelled like sex, pure, raw sex. And on top of all that, you were 15 minuets late. You and Harry strolled onto the restaurant slightly disheveled, with an underlying sex smell which the two of you did your best to mask; well you did at least. Harry on the other hand wore it like a badge of honor so to speak.

“Look who decided to show up” Jeff says as you and Harry approach the table.

“I’m so sorry were late, we got held up.” You rush sitting in front of the couple.

“How was it?” Jeff teases, alluding to the real reason why you and Harry were late.

“Why do you always assume we’re just having sex?” Harry questions, even though in the back of his mind he already knows the answer. Glenne and Jeff break out into laughter across from you guys.

“Because you guys are always having sex” Jeff says matter of factly, still laughing at Harry’s previous statement.

“No were not” you jump in, even though you know he may have a point.

“Y/n, I love you guys, I really do. But you act like sex-crazed teenagers”

“No we do not” Harry tries.

“Almost every time we’re together, I’m either walking in or about to walk in on you guys.” The table goes silent. All of you knowing what Jeff said was completely true. “I don’t think you guys could go a whole day without going at it” he challenges.

“I could, this one couldn’t” you reply

“Weren’t you the one who was all over me yesterday?” Harry questions, already knowing that you were the one who was literally crawling onto his lap every five minuets.

“Well weren’t you the one who made us late” you shut him down instantly with the undeniable truth.

“Well let’s just agree on this, you wouldn’t be able to last more than a day” he challenges you.

“Fucking try me.”

“Challenge accepted” he sticks his hand out to shake on it, but you leave him hanging. Which causes Jeff and Glenne to burst into laughter again. “She just knows she’s gonna lose, that’s all.” he chuckles, shaking his head at you.

Fast forward 3 days later and the two of you are doing everything you can to make the other break. Whether it be Harry brushing past you in the kitchen, pressing his front into you from behind, or you bending over right in front of him. Both of you were dying over the lack of intimacy between the two of you. Now outsiders may wonder how you guys survive while Harry’s on tour if you can barely make it through three days. Well the answer to that is simple. The two of you could survive Harry being on tour because you guys weren’t around each other. Hence the reason why the two of you are always going at it; because you just couldn’t get enough of each other. In Harry’s opinion, the mere sight of you made him want to take you on any nearby surface.

He didn’t think it would be so bad at first, but he was sadly mistaken. And he realized his mistake as soon as he got home the first night. The two of you went about your normal routine, the two of you changed and got ready for bed like usual. Only this time, Harry was going crazy. Seeing you bent over the bathroom sink in his t-shirt doing your nighttime routine was driving him up the walls. When you hopped into bed you gave Harry a kiss goodnight and it literally felt like sparks of electricity were flowing through his body. On top of that, sometimes before bed Harry would push his cock inside you. He loved having you wrapped around him and you loved how full you felt with him inside of you, so it just made sense. Instead, Harry had to sleep next to you, more like pressed against you from behind instead of inside of you. He was starting to regret his decision.

Harry wasn’t the only one though, you were starting to regret it too. You did fine the first night when you got home, but everyday after that was a struggle. The next morning you woke up to an empty bed, just to find Harry jerking himself off in the shower. You could hear his deep moans and you just wanted to get in with him. You wanted him to push you against the wall and just slam into you. But you couldn’t lose. You really wanted to win this. But it was really hard, it was hard to win a no sex competition when the literal concept of sex was walking around your home. Both of you were hot and bothered and you knew it. Then it had turned into a breaking game. Who was going to break down and give in to their need for the other first? For the next two days, all the two of you did was try and seduce each other. Whether it be you wearing nothing but one of Harry’s shirts and a thin pair of panties around the house, or Harry wearing no underwear under his sweats, giving you the perfect view of his cock. Both of you were trying so hard to have self control but it was getting harder and harder as the days progressed. Night 2 was probably the hardest of them all. As Harry was getting into bed he climbs on top of you and he smears his lips onto yours. He wraps his arms around your back, pulling you against his body, pressing his bulge against you. You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him more into you. Your spontaneous make out session continues, embracing the fact that this was the only action both of you had received for the past two days almost. Your make out comes to an abrupt end when Harry pulls away and rolls over onto his side of the bed. He says a quick goodnight to you and he presses a kiss to your cheek before turning out the lights. Leaving you wide awake and turned on.

The next day went just like the others. You get up, and you go through the day trying your hardest to get one another to cave in. These things went from slight brushes against each other to spontaneous make outs. It was as if you both found a loophole in your bet. Both of you indirectly rationed that making out wasn’t breaking any of the terms of the bet, it was just relieving some of the sexual frustration the two of you had built up within the past few days. Throughout the day at random, you’d be pressed between the wall or any other surface of the house and Harry. His lips would be smeared against yours and his hardened cock would be pressed against you. Your fingers would be tangled in his curls and you’d release soft whimpers into his mouth. Even though it wasn’t close to actually having sex with Harry, you would take anything you could get.

Now at first Harry was confident that you were going to be the first one to cave in. But he was sadly mistaken. As much as he would have liked to win the bet, he didn’t know how much more he could take.

You and Harry were now approaching the end of the third day of your bet. The two of you were laying on the couch with your legs stretched across his lap. The two of you were comfortably watching some show on Netflix Harry suggested. You guys were doing good, keeping your sexual desires at bay. That was until the coveted sex scene comes. The fact that the characters in the show were getting more action than both of you were drove you and Harry crazy. Mainly Harry though. The way the woman in the show reacted to the pleasure she was receiving made Harry hard all over again. All he could think about was the way you responded to him when he fucked you. The way you whimper when you feel his cock stretching your walls. The way you grip onto the sheets as he thrusts his cock into you, going so deep you could feel him in your tummy. The way your head thrashed against any surface you were pressed against. Even the way you practically begged him to fill you up. All of these filthy thoughts were flooding into his mind, just from the simple sex scene on the screen in front of him. He looks over to you and he sees you and he sees how your eyes are locked in on the tv. He could see how bad you wanted him, simply from the way you were biting your lip, and the not so subtle way you were clenching your thighs.

Harry couldn’t do it anymore. He stands up from the couch, and he bends down, pulling you up and over his shoulder. He tunes out all of your protests and questions to his sudden actions and he takes you both upstairs to the bedroom. Harry tosses you down onto the bed and he gawks over your body. He wastes no time, ripping your panties down your legs. He pulls your shirt off and he spreads your legs. He pushes you further up the bed, pushing his head between your spread legs. In that moment all of the need you had built up in the past few days came rushing back to you. As much as you would have liked to have his mouth on you, you needed him inside of you even more.

“I need you inside of me so bad” you tug at his hair. He looks up towards you and he sees the needy, and desperate look in your eye. He pushes up off of the bed and he peels his boxers off of his hips. As soon as he does, his painfully hard cock slaps against his lower stomach. The crown of his cock is so red, it looked as if it was about to burst. His shaft looked thicker than normal and the veins running up from his balls to his head were larger and more prominent than usual. You couldn’t get the thought of how those veins would feel rubbing against your walls. By now you were throbbing for his cock. Harry climbs back onto the bed and he positions himself between your legs.

“Tell me I won” you pant, feeling the thick head of his cock nudging between your lips, prodding at your tight hole.

“You won baby” he groans, dropping his head into the space between your neck and your shoulder. One hand grips your waist, holding you still beneath him, and the other grips his cock, slowly pushing further into you.

“You’re so big” you whimper feeling his girth stretch you out so good. You didn’t know if you had a pain kink, but you did know that you loved the sting that came with Harry pushing his cock into you. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, digging your nails into his skin as you feel him begin to move inside of you. The two of you could only gasp, neither being able to express how good you both felt in words. The only word you could get out was “harder”. You were dying to feel his cock slam into you. You wanted him to pin you against the mattress and just pound into you.

As soon as it left your mouth Harry instantly pulled out of you. He flipped you onto your stomach and he spread your legs as wide as possible. He grips onto his cock and he lines himself up with your entrance. Without any warning Harry slams into you again, and he doesn’t slow down. His hips continuously crash into yours, sending shockwaves through your body. He hears your whimpers and he sees you falling apart in front of him. He watches you grasping at anything you could.

“Fuckin tight” he growls pining your hands above your head. He then presses his upper body into your back, pressing you further into the bed.

“You’re so deep” you gasp, feeling him going so deep inside of you could feel him in your tummy.

“Y’like me deep inside yeh baby? Y’like feeling me in y’little tummy baby? Like feelin’ nice and full” he pants, laying further into your back.

“Mhm” you whimper “m’gonna cum” you mewl. This made Harry slam into you even harder than before. You felt his cock nudging the soft spongy spot deep inside of you. “Fuck” you whimper, clenching tightly around his cock.

“Cum f’me baby. Cum ‘round my cock sweet girl” he pants, feeling his own release catching up with him.

“Oh my god” you scream feeling your release crash down onto you. Harry could feel your juices coating his cock and he knew for sure you were dripping onto the sheets. He feels his own release catching right up to him. He slams into you one more time, filling you to the hilt, and stilling inside you. His grip on your wrists tighten as he fills you up with his cum. You can feel spurt after spurt of his cum flowing into you. Once he’s released every last drop of his cum inside of you, he slowly pulls out of you.

“Squeeze f’me baby. Wan’ yeh to keep it all inside.” He mumbles into your ear. He slowly pulls out of you and he sees some of his cum begin to spill out of you. He swipes at your pussy and scoops up some of his cum, and he pushes it past his lips. The taste of his cum mixed with your juices was intoxicating to him, it was like a drug he couldn’t get enough of. Harry falls back onto the bed next to you and he pulls you into his arms, placing a kiss to your forehead. You lay your head on his chest and the two of you lay there together, silently reminiscing on the amazing sex the both of you just had. Despite the great sex you just had, the both of you could go again. You both were making up for the morning, afternoon, and evening sex the two of you missed out on for the last few days.

“Do you think we’re sex addicts?” Harry whispers, breaking the silence and staring up at the ceiling.

“I think both of us just ooze sex, and we just happen to be addicted to each other” you reason playing with his necklace.

“So yes” he chuckles, lightly scratching at the back of your neck.

“Y’wanna go again?”

“I thought you’d never ask” he chuckles, pulling you on top of him. “How about you let me get a taste first” he smirks, sticking his tongue out towards you.

You and Harry were going to have a sit down conversation with Jeff. Because neither you or Harry were going to be slowing down anytime soon, so Jeff was just going to have to suck it up. Maybe you and Harry could get a do not disturb sign? Or a sock on the door handle?

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