#(hes the one the fic focuses the most on so!)

[sweettea-and-honeybutter]

Sweet Dreams

A/N: You read my mind anon 💕 I'm not normally a fluffy sweet gal but this idea came to me, and every time I sat down to work on it, I would get stuck reading another and then another amazing Terry fic on here 😮‍💨 shout out to @megamindsecretlair the first Terry fic I read on here was written by her and now here I am, feral and unhinged 😃

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Reader

Summary: Terry has night terrors, luckily he's found you and his love for you keeps him grounded

Genre/Warning: I mean yeah it's sweet and fluffy but y'all know me. 18+, minors kindly fuck off. Oral (f & m receiving), overstimulation (boffum cause they're equally matched)

Also I had this song on repeat writing it...

Please let me know what you think ☺️

Terry’s body was so tense, muscles spasming even in his sleep. His mind was stuck on a painful loop, replaying nightmares he lived and torturing him with tragedy after tragedy. This was familiar to him. He often came to this dream-like purgatory, so he’d trained his mind to pull himself out, fighting against the waves of grief to force himself awake.

He came to with a quiet “shit” escaping from his twitching lips. His fists were balled tightly and his skin was slightly damp from the torment his mind insists on putting him through. His heart was racing and he could feel a panic attack creeping up his stiff spine. Trying to slow his breathing down and ground himself, he focused on his 5 senses to bring him back to reality. 

His eyes locked on the ceiling fan, bringing his attention to the way the cool breeze in the room soothed his heated skin. He could hear your soft breathing next to him, and his heartbeat finally started to calm down some. He turned his head to look at you and inhaled deeply, allowing your sweet cinnamon spiced vanilla scent to comfort the raging emotions inside of him.

His whole body sagged against your bed in relief. Finally able to embrace the reality of being here, in your home, in your bed, with you peacefully resting next to him. His face softened staring at you, thick lips curving upwards with contentment taking in your form. You were on your back just like him, comforter pushed down past your knees from where you kick them when you overheat in the middle of the night. In just his US Marine shirt that you seemed to drown in and a satin scarf. Pretty face relaxed in the most peaceful expression. His heartbeat evened out, all was right in his world. 

He realized he left one of his senses neglected. Taste. He glanced over at his water on your nightstand then back at you. Water would do absolutely nothing for him right now. His mouth is watering for the peace he knows he’ll find nestled between your soft thighs. Moving stealthily like a feline in the night, he crept over to your side of the bed, careful to not jostle you awake. He pushed the comforter completely off the bed, and settled in between your spread legs. You wore nothing underneath his large t shirt, and your scent was more rich here, making his hunger for you more intense. 

He watched your chest rise and fall for a moment, then kissed his way up both your thighs, his beard softly grazing your skin making you shift. His nose nudged the shirt up the higher he kissed, and he heard you release a sigh, legs shifting slightly, spreading and unintentionally inviting him in deeper into your aura. He moved slowly, half of him wanting to let you rest, the other half of him growing surprisingly needy the more he inhaled your sweet scent. 

His shirt now resting on your tummy, you were exposed to him, and he paused to admire you. He’s convinced you’re made for him. Your energy keeping him anchored while his mind healed from life knocking him down more than enough times, your beauty making the walls he built around himself crumble at just the sight of you, your body perfectly taking him in and calming his storm. He was yours completely now, and you don’t even know the power you have over him.

Eyes locked on your face, he brought his plump lips to your own, leaving soft kisses all over your mound. You moaned and shifted again, slightly raising one knee, giving him enough room to hook a strong arm underneath your thigh. His other hand came up to gently part your folds, and he softly blew on your clit to wake her up. 

“Terry…” your voice was thick with sleep, eyes still shut, your breathing was coming out unevenly now. His striking eyes stayed glued to your face, and he watched you let out a sharp gasp as he lazily ran his tongue from your hole to your now very hard clit. 

“Terry!” He smiled into you at your agonized moan, giving you another long deliberate lick, finally satisfying his tastebuds with your essence.

“Take the shirt off, I want to see you.” He gave your clit loving, wet kisses, watching you scramble to free yourself from his shirt, and your eyes finally met his once you were bare.

“Good girl.” His eyes gleamed with pride at you willingly and eagerly giving yourself to him, like you always do. He circled your clit with his tongue, trapping it between his lips and moaning at the taste of you. This is exactly what he needed, to be completely consumed by you. 

You brought one hand down to grip his head, whispered pleas leaving you as you bucked into his mouth. He spit on your pussy and slurped it up, delighted by the way your voice gets hoarse the sloppier he eats. 

“Please baby, I need more!” You sounded so sweet and desperate, your eyes begging him to push you over the approaching edge. You loved that he often ate you out for his own pleasure, choosing to spend hours if he wanted to satiating his hunger. But waking up to his handsome face now wet from you, and his muscled arms guiding your hips to grind on his mouth, and hearing his moans as he indulged himself in you, it was too fucking much. “Pleaseee” you begged again.

“S’okay baby, I gotchu” he stopped playing with you then, wanting to enjoy the privilege of tasting your cum. His tongued moved down to start thrusting into your hole, his head moving up and down so his nose would rub against your clit, and you both moaned. You arched into his mouth as his hands soothed their way up your body to play with your nipples, pulling more wetnesses and pathetic noises from you.

“I’m so fucking close baby pleaseeee” and his lips came back up to your clit, sucking it more firmly and moaning around it. He worked his jaw faster and faster, licking and sucking, and his own hips started grinding into the side of the bed, needing to relieve the pressure in his boxers from chasing your high with you.

He pulled back only to tell you to cum for him, and then he messily made out with your pussy, licking up every drop you gave him as he turned you into a whimpering, twitching, cumming mess. His hands smoothed down your curves to grip your hips as his tongue slowed back down to lazy licks. Both of your hands pushed at his head trying to free yourself as he alternated from licking your pussy to your wet thighs, and back again, making sure he got all of you. 

“Okay Terry, okaaay!” You tried pushing harder, you were so sensitive and he was working you up again. He gave you a mischievous smile, eyes darkening with intention.

“You love me?” His voice so deep with desire it was almost a growl.

“Yes! Yes you know I do baby, come on” he chuckled at your high pitched whine, giving you another sweet lick and your hands were frantically clawing at his back, your clit getting overstimulated. “Let me show you how much I do!” He paused and quirked his brow at you before kissing his way up your body. You could feel his large length pressing against you through his boxers as he held himself over you, locking you into his intense gaze.

“Show me.” He pressed his lips onto yours and you moaned at the distinct taste of you as he slipped his tongue into your mouth. Your right leg and arm attached to him, holding on tightly and your left leg and arm pushed against the bed, never breaking the kiss as you guided him to lay on his back. Now on top of his sturdy body, your hands smoothed over his muscles and you grind your hips down on him, teasing him through his boxers. His hands came to grip your round ass firmly, giving it a playful jiggle and nipping at your bottom lip with his sharp teeth.

Your hand grips his jaw lightly, and you turn his head, finding that spot just under his ear that always gets you what you want. You give that spot a sweet, wet kiss, and you feel his hold on your ass tighten, making you grind harder on him. 

“I’m in charge now big guy” you suck on his neck, marking him for the world to see, and you miss the content smile on his face. He’s all too happy being yours. You make your way down his body, you roles reversed now, kissing as you go a paying attention to the spots that make him softly grunt and groan with pleasure.

Once you reach his boxers, you slowly stroke the thickness there, looking up at him from under your lashes. His hands were under his head, biceps bulging beautifully, and his eyes were closed with a small smile on his thick lips. He looked so damn handsome, and so peaceful, and so unaware of the hunger he awoke within you. You tugged his boxers down so just the tip was exposed to the warm air between you two, and gave the leaking tip a soft kiss, tasting him there and causing Terry to hiss through his teeth at the feeling. 

“You gonna let me take care of this?” You asked it so innocently while pulling his boxers the rest of the way down, tossing them somewhere behind you and raking your nails back up his legs, sending a shiver down his spine.

“Mmhh” ever a man of few words he opened his striking eyes, nodding at you and flexing his abs, causing his impressive dick to jump slightly. You put one hand on his thigh, and the other confidently gripped his base, bringing his length to stand up closer to your lips, and you watched him bite his plump bottom lip to stop himself from thrusting into your hand.

“I’ll make sure you don’t question if I love you again” he saw the determined glint in your eyes and chuckled.

“Baby I was jok-“ the rest of his sentence was choked off as your hot, wet tongue circled his tip slowly. Your eyes danced playfully as you did it again, watching him squeeze his eyes shut tightly and both his hands move down to grip your sheets.  “Shit baby girl”

You hummed on his tip sending shockwaves of pleasure throughout his body, sucking a little more of him into your mouth before pulling off quickly with a loud ‘pop’. The hand gripping his base stroked up to tease his tip, and Terry couldn’t keep up with all the sensations, he was never prepared to feel your talented mouth on him no matter how often you got on your knees for him. 

“You were saying handsome?” You didn’t give him a chance to answer your cheeky question as you took him back into your mouth, further down this time, your hand gripping the length of him that you couldn’t take and twisting in perfect harmony with your sucking. Deep, almost pained, groans left his mouth as he lightly bucked into your mouth, unable to hold back anymore.

“Fuck” you felt one of his large hands twist into your hair, your scarf long since gone, and he guided you a little bit faster, “just like that, you suck that dick so fuckin good” his words were slurring slightly already and you hummed around him again at his praise.

Moving your other hand from his thigh, you cupped his balls and lightly tugged downwards, and called out your name just like you knew he would. Resisting the pressure he put on your head with his hand in your hair, you repositioned yourself so you could stroke him with two hands and focus your mouth on the tip. He was so big that there was still parts of his dick that went untouched. He thrusted more clumsily in your mouth as you gave him everything, twisting your fists and slurping his tip, your eyes shut in concentration and you moaning around him. You were about to make him cum way faster than he meant to.

“Wait-baby-WAIT!” His hands pulled your head off of him as gently but urgently as he could and you pouted up at him. His chest was heaving, his brows furrowed and his hips still thrusting into your fist that still twisted and stroked around him.

“Aww handsome” your tone was mockingly sympathetic “is my love too much for you?” You couldn’t help the cruel smile that spread across your pretty face, and he frowned back at you, still helplessly bucking his hips.

“I need to be inside you, now.” His gray eyes were dark and serious, but you weren’t phased.

“I’m still in charge, remember?” You leaned forward to lightly kiss his tip and he gave you an exasperated moan of your name. “But I do wanna feel you stretch me Terry.” With that you crawled unhurriedly up his body, giving him soft sucks and bites randomly over his muscles and smooth skin.

You positioned your dripping pussy right over his dick, rubbing your clit on his hardness and you both moaned at just how damn good you felt together. His hands moved to caress your thighs and you quickly grabbed his wrists, placing his hands above his head. He blinked those pretty eyes at you in frustration but allowed you to hold him hostage, keeping the both of you from diving right off that cliff into an ocean of pleasure. 

You smiled down at him, sliding your whole body on him teasingly, he could feel your hard nipples on his chest, you hair tickling his neck, your pussy trying to drown him, it was overwhelming but it was exactly what he wanted. You attempted to hold both his wrists in one hand, your hands were much too small but he obeyed and stayed still all the same, and you brought your other hand down to grip him, positioning him right at your entrance.

“You love me Terry?” You gave him a cute smile, and he wanted to bite your lips, wanted to flip you over, wanted to remind you that you’ve met your match. But he also loved you like this, his passionate hell cat, his wild insatiable pretty girl that wasn’t afraid to take what the fuck she wanted, what she needed. 

His piercing eyes got lost in the depths of your own for another moment before he leaned up so he could speak softly against your lips, “of course I love you baby girl” he kissed you softly and you let him, trying to hold on to your resolve and not melt against him. He pulled back, eyes going from your luscious lips to your pretty eyes, “I love you with everything that I am” his deep voice sounded so earnest, and an intense wave of love and belonging washed over you. He had no idea how much you were his, and you had no idea how deeply he felt the same way.

You finally, agonizingly slowly, sank down on his tip, feeling him start to stretch you despite how sinfully wet you were. Both of you moan, you shift up slightly to take more of him in, and his head falls heavily to the bed, neither one of you able to keep your eyes open, just completely lost in each other. Once you take all of him, clit kissing his base, you give him a torturous grind, pussy clenching around him and adjusting to his large size. He growls out your name and you open your eyes to look down at him, bringing your hand back up to his wrists. 

He glared at you, he was trying so hard to be still, “girl if you don’t fucking move.” You giggled at his serious tone, happy to see the effect you have on him. You begin to slowly rock your hips, watching his jaw twitch, knowing this wasn’t enough for him but not caring because it made him stretch your pussy so deliciously.

“Like this-“ before you could even get your teasing question out, he yanked his hands from under yours, forcing you to brace your hands by his head. His strong hands grabbed your hips firmly, lifting you so he’d have space to slam up into you. You gasped sharply, eyes rolling back in your head as he found a steady pace, the wet smacks of skin filling the room with your surprised moans.

“I fucking tried baby” his deep voice was strained, you did that to him. His head was thrown back and he was panting. The way you sucked his dick, such sweet torture, and now this? He can’t take the hold you have on him. “I really fucking tried to let you be in charge baby. You don’t know what you do to me” he continued to thrust up, hands gripping you tighter feeling how your wet pussy molded around him. You loved when he got like this, when he gets talkative when he’s deep in you, unable to help himself, and you groan and throw your hips back onto him.

You sat up a little higher, bracing your hands on his wide chest, and you both locked eyes again. You bit your lip as you began to bounce, and he smiled at that. “There you fucking go pretty girl, look at you bouncing on this dick, that’s your dick huh baby?” You moaned and nodded, eyes rolling from pleasure and twerked your hips back harder.

“That’s my good girl, soaking daddy’s dick, listen to her talk to me” and you could hear the obscene noises your pussy made. That, combined with his voice talking to you so gruffly, and the feel of his tip hitting that spongy spot deep in you, you were close. He could tell by the way your moans were broken, and how you stopped talking shit, and how you bounced just a little bit harder.

“Play with your clit baby, lemme see you cream all over me” you groaned moving one hand to rub your clit, and the other to pinch your nipple, hips becoming frantic on him. The sight of your head thrown back, loud moans of his name leaving you, beautiful bouncing curves, and the creamy wetness he could see on his dick as he thrusted in and out from underneath you, he was right there behind you.

“Just like that baby girl, I can feel you gripping me, keep going” you worked your clit harder and he moved one of his hands to grip your neck firmly. That was all you needed to let go, your hips bucked wildly and your gripped him like you wanted to snap him in half, he growled at you, eyes never leaving your form has he continued to slam into you through your orgasm.

“That’s. My. Fucking. Girl.” He punctuated each word with a harsh thrust before he stilled, groaning your name and pulling you down onto him, your head in his neck and arms wrapped around his damp body and he softly fucked the last of his cum into you.

You both fought to catch your breath, chests heaving into each others. You gave his neck sweet kisses as he lightly caressed your back. You shifted, the soreness of your thighs and core now getting to you, and your pussy clenched automatically around his dick that was still hard. He hissed and pulled you tighter against him.

“It’s too much” you could tell his teeth were clenched as he said it.

“Oh?” You propped yourself up on your arms by his head once again, taking in his stressed features, he almost looked in pain. You moved like you were going to get off him, lifting your pussy slowly until just the head was caught in her grasp. “Really? Too much?” You lightly twerked on his tip, knowing it was extra sensitive and Terry urgently gripped the back of your thighs trying to lift you off him.

“Too fucking much baby girl, I can’t-“ you left him winded as you sank back down all the way, your pussy was hotter and wetter now, completely engulfing him in blinding pleasure, and he just swears his heart is gonna stop as fast as its beating now. You’re trying to kill him, he’s convinced!

All you do is laugh, getting off on him being overstimulated. It was rare to see him like this, the lines of his neck and hard body so strained, his eyes unable to stay open, crude words leaving his mumbling mouth, his nails digging into your thighs were he’s unable to decide if he should move you away or closer, he was helplessly at your mercy.

You did that move a few more times, slowly lifting up, pussy clenching around him, teasing his tip just barely inside you, and slamming onto him again. It was driving him crazy, he didn’t think he had anything left to give but he felt it coming, and you were determined to get every drop from him. He shouted, turning to bite your arm next to his face, as he came again. It was much less this time but still enough to cause your combined essence to overflow out of you, making a sticky mess between you two.

“That’s a good boy” you teased and he huffed a wheezing “fuck off” at you, lifting your hips with weak trembling arms and pulling you off him finally with a sharp gasp at the cool air meeting his spent dick.

You rested your head on his chest as he caught his breath. You were honestly spent, sore and weak and needed to clean up, but your ego was inflated and your pussy had a pleasant ache to it now. Terry’s chest wasn’t heaving anymore, in fact you were surprised to hear soft snores leaving him. You propped yourself up and looked him over, beautiful features serene, muscles relaxed and pliant, dick softening but an absolute mess, you did good. You weren’t the only one that taps out around here, sometimes he needed to be reminded of that. 

You pressed a sweet kiss to his shoulder and got up to clean yourself, moving sluggishly as exhaustion caught up to you. Terry fell further and further into pleasant dreams that smelled of cinnamon spiced vanilla and tasted distinctly of you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Okie dokie 😇 I'm gonna tag people in the comments that I've seen talk about Terry, I'll probably write more for him so let me know if you'd like to be tagged in the future. Like, comments, reblogs and messages in my asks are well received and appreciated 💕

[avcdgrdn]

── .✦ [ FIC ]: can i really stay here? [ part three ]

[ part one & part two ]

mullet stanley pines x innkeeper reader

tags: fluff, hurt/comfort, sfw

word count: 1765

˙✧˖° ༘ ⋆｡˚

he was so obviously staring at you.

it was a crisp fall morning, and a light sweat formed on your brow as you swept the floor by the front desk. you’d been at it for a while, and about halfway through, stan had meandered down the stairs and happened to see you. presently, he was casually leaning against the wall, and you could feel his eyes on your back.

there were moments where you’d turn your head in his direction, and he would jolt and quickly look the other way. you rolled your eyes amusedly, wondering what he could be thinking of.

after a moment of thought, you spoke up, your gaze still focused on the broom in your hands. “so, whatcha doin’, stan?”

there was nobody else in the lobby, so he didn’t really have a good excuse to pull out of his back pocket. he looked up, drumming his fingers against the wall. “uhhh … nothin’. what’s it to ya?”

“you know, you can come closer if you want to.” you shook your head, chuckling. the broad-built man sighed in defeat, pushing himself off of the wall and walking over to lean against the front desk instead.

as you continued to sweep, he pursed his lips, fidgeting with the edge of his t-shirt. “hey, uh. i been thinkin’.”

you gave him a glance over your shoulder. “yeah?”

one of his hands wandered up to his shaggy mullet, tugging absentmindedly at chocolate brown hairs. “well, i’ve been stayin’ with you for a few days now … and i really appreciate your help. i … i’m still tryin’ ta think of ways to make a buck, but … a–anyway, what’s i’m saying is—”

he stammered, blushing faintly as he averted his gaze. it was frustratingly difficult to be so open and honest.

“ … is–is there any way i could help you out? since i’m not payin’ at all …”

you straightened, turning to fully face him. his desire to settle his debt was endearing, but you knew in your heart that he really didn’t owe you anything. you wanted him to have someone to watch out for him, someone to care about him.

someone to … love him.

“i really appreciate it, but it’s okay.” you grinned, warm with compassion.

stan blinked, and he suddenly found that his heart was aching in his chest again. just as it had at the diner, as it had when he took that key from your hand …

his square jaw clenched shut as your genuine empathy pierced into him like daggers.

“please.”

he almost sounded desperate.

“i, uh. i just don’t like ta feel useless.”

after studying his expression for a moment, your smile softened.

“okay.” swiftly, you extended the broom towards him, raising your brows. “wanna finish sweeping in the lobby? i can start on the dusting.”

immediately, he lit up. “alright, angel. i’ll sweep this place so good, you’d never guess that anyone’s set foot in it.”

taking hold of the broomstick, the brunet got to work, happily gathering dust bunnies, crumbs, and random bits of trash that various customers had left behind. you rummaged around in the supply closet for the duster, pulling it out and starting to clean up different decorative objects and shelftops.

the soft music emanating from the record player served to create a peaceful atmosphere. occasionally, one or two patrons would pass through, but for the most part, it was quiet.

after you’d taken care of all the dusty surfaces in the room, you put the duster away, lighting a pumpkin spice scented candle and carefully placing it on a table in the center of the lobby.

“hmm ... wow, that’s nice.” stan hummed, clearly affected by the calming aroma.

“i know, right? i love having this scent in the fall–”

you stopped abruptly upon seeing the perfectly clean floors. it couldn’t have been more than fifteen minutes, and yet all of it was spotless.

“wow, stan, you made quick work of that! good job!”

stanley puffed out his chest, clearly smug and quite proud of himself, like a small child showing you a drawing they had worked hard on. “i told you. ain’t i helpful?”

“you’re a huge help, thank you.”

he hadn’t been praised like this in so long. he was practically glowing at this point.

“so, er … what else can i help ya with?” he stepped closer to you, hands on his hips.

you racked your brain in an attempt to think of what else needed to get done around the inn. “oh, i know. a shipment arrived for us earlier today, but they’re both heavy boxes that i can’t quite move on my own. would you w–”

“I’M ON IT! lead the way, sweetheart!”

“o–okay–” you led him around to the back to collect the packages, trying so hard not to let his pet names affect you. nonetheless, you were blushing like an idiot.

next thing you knew, you were watching him carry two heavy boxes with ease, one on each arm. he had rolled up his jacket sleeves, revealing his muscular forearms.

… it’s fall, right? it’s not supposed to be this hot in here.

“where to, toots?” he grunted, arching a brow.

“uh … the storage room. this way.” you were avoiding eye contact as much as possible. everything about this guy was attractive right now.

oh God, don’t let me die yet…

after the contents of the boxes were successfully unloaded and put away, the two of you sat at the kitchen bar, helping yourselves to the lunch that your chef had made. stan ate enthusiastically, probably in the best mood that you’d ever seen him in. why that was, exactly, you weren’t sure—you were too overwhelmed to figure it out. there was just something about the way he looked at you that was making you silently freak out.

i know that he’s been calling me names even since we first met. it seems like it’s just a thing that he does with everyone … but lately, they really don’t feel like just names.

i don’t know. am i going crazy? i might be. and yet …

chewing on a mouthful of rice, you snuck a sideways peek at the man beside you, admiring his chiseled jaw and dark brown hair. that is, until he caught you looking, and you nearly choked on your food.

“what? ‘s there somethin’ on my face?” he chuckled, his tone taunting.

“i, uh, i thought there might’ve been–but you’re fine. no worries.” bullcrap.

“hah, whatever you say.”

you continued to eat in silence. your fork was slipping in your hand.

just great. my palms are sweating.

this … hasn’t happened to you since high school. butterflies and blushing suddenly clouded your brain whenever he was close to you. how did it even start? he just walked into your life, and …

you were so lost in your thoughts, you didn’t process stan calling your name for the third time in a row. it wasn’t until he put his hand on your shoulder that you snapped out of it.

“gh– huh?” your face was redder than a cherry tomato.

“hey, you alright? yer actin’ all spacey.” he was evidently concerned this time. “how many fingers am i holdin’ up?”

“f–four.” you exhaled, rubbing your temples with one hand. “i’m fine, just lost in thought, is all. thanks, stan.” you offered a small smile as you fought the raging butterflies in your stomach.

stan nodded in understanding, gently taking his hand off your shoulder.

“okay, just lemme know if you need anything.”

with that, he took care of his plate, rinsing it off in the sink before making his way up to his room. your chef walked into the kitchen, shooting you a look as you handed him your half-full plate.

“sorry, i don’t think i can eat any more. i’m feeling … nauseous.”

it was around six o’clock in the evening now, and you sat up in your personal living room on the very top floor of the inn, falling deeper and deeper into your thoughts.

do i … really like him that much?

am i in love?

you tangled your fingers into your hair, hunching over slightly.

but … so quickly? i’ve only known him for a number of days. is that a thing that happens!?

what if he doesn’t like me back? what if he flirts with everyone? what if he thinks i’m weird for liking him? does he know i like him?

just then, you heard a knocking on your door.

oh.

heart thudding violently in your chest, you swallowed your anxiety, standing up from your sofa to find out who it could be. you turned the doorknob, letting it swing open.

the first thing you saw was a beautiful bouquet of red tulips.

your gaze trailed up to find stanley’s broad figure, dressed in slacks and a flattering button-up top. he had pulled his hair back into a ponytail, although a few stray hairs remained out of place.

his brown eyes met your own, and your breath hitched in your throat.

“hey. listen, uh … these are for you, first of all.” he handed the bouquet to you, which you mindlessly accepted, being unable to look away from his face.

“i … wanted t’ properly say thank you. lettin’ me stay here has helped me get my mind right ‘nd allowed me to think about the important things.”

he took a breath.

“and, well … i figured out that you’re real important to me. so. i–i was wonderin’ if you’d wanna grab dinner tonight?”

“… dinner?”

“y–yeah, like a date–”

your cheeks flushed a dark shade of red, matching the tulips you held in your arms.

stan tripped over his words, staring at the floor. “and i, uh—i understand if you’re not interested–”

“no! i mean, yes! yes, i’m–i’m very interested.” you rushed to answer him, not fully realizing that a gleeful smile had broken out onto your expression. “i just … wow …”

he laughed, beaming with joy as he realized that the answer was yes. “oh, damn, i didn’t actually expect to get this far…!” gently, he scooped you into a snug embrace, lifting you off of your feet slightly. “thank you, angel.”

“... anything for you.” you murmured in reply, hugging him back for a sweet moment before the two of you stepped apart. “let me just get ready, then.”

“sounds good, doll. i’ll be waitin’ downstairs.”

and just like that, the door was shut, and you were left to stare at the red tulips in your hands.

end

author's note:

screaming into a pillow kicking my feet giggling

i wrote this one so fast somehow ??? i had a vision

if you wanna be added to the tag list for updates, lmk!

tag list: @icouldntthinkofanythingclever @seahorrorz @blustalker @hay-needle @phanmai1002 @samanthastarss @bumblingbriars @arya-eats-chips @bihexualandferal @hello-i-like-owls @blurryface505 @ryethebrokengae

[tinydefector]

Dude i am so hyped for your shockwave rut cycle fic. I have a party hat on and a party popper just stalking your blog waiting for it to drop

Shockwave Rut cycle

Sorry this took so long hand alot come up but it's finally here woooo.

Word count: 1.5k

Warnings: smut, giant/tiny, heat/ mating cycles. Valveplug, NSFW

_____________

It wasn't often Shockwave was around this many Mechs let alone this many Humans in one place. It was all due to him working alongside Autobots in a hope of creating a blocker for their Rut. Shockwave was a logical Mech but even that didn't stop the effect of human Hormones on his system. They had been helping him with his test, providing Blood, sweat, skin and saliva samples for Shockwave,  they were polite and worked well with him despite being Autobot Allied. 

Shockwave's usual demeanour was faltering as he found himself in an unfamiliar situation. The effects of the human hormones on his systems were undeniable, stirring up a primal response within him, he had never had much of an issue with his cycle while on Cybertron due to not being around mechs and he could just force himself into more work. 

Shockwave couldn't ignore the way their scent seemed to envelop him, His internal systems buzzed with a need, joints and internal workings clicking and whirling as he busied himself, His logical mind battled against the primal instincts that now had him eager to take a rut mate. The allure of the human's scent, had him venting out in frustration. 

Their eyes flicker to him from their spot. "Is it getting bad?" Shockwave's optic focus in on them, the yellow hue cast a faint light across their skin. "It... it is a challenge," Shockwave admits, his voice strained, he was doing his best to stay focused but the lingering pheromones were making it difficult.  "The effects of your pheromones are proving to be... difficult to ignore."

Despite his best efforts to maintain control over his impulses, Shockwave can feel his old coding crying out with each passing moment. pushing him to the brink of giving in to his most basic instincts. He goes deathly silent as another deep vent of air hits Their skin. 

They take a short moment to process what he had said, eyes lingering on him watching the slight twitch in his frame as he continues to type down the effects. "Shockwave, how long does your rut last?"

"My rut... it can last for several cycles," Shockwave responds, his voice clinical and detached as he tries to maintain his composure. "Does it settle down for a while after you have mated?" They inquire. Shockwave's systems buzz at their question, a slight whine leaves His engine as his helm snaps back to them, optic aglow as he stares. 

" The effects of the rut do tend to subside for a time," Shockwave explains, As he speaks, Shockwave's thoughts swirl with conflicting emotions, where they inquiring out of scientific knowledge, spying for the Autobots or genuine concern for him. 

"So it would be more beneficial for you to have some release so you can continue your work?" 

"That is a logical assessment," Shockwave concedes, his voice betraying a hint of need. He looks away from them as he moves across the lab checking another reading of the test. He contemplates the human's suggestion, Shockwave finds himself torn between his commitment to his scientific pursuits and the primal urges that now threaten to overwhelm him. 

He didn't trust any of the other mechs and he doubted any would agree during the cycle, seeking release as a means of restoring his systems presents a tempting solution, but he did not wish to deal with the bureaucracy of both alliances. But the truth was it was impacting his work.  

“Shockwave, how can I help, I can see your mind working a hundred miles an hour” a soft smile graces their lips. 

 

Shockwave goes stiff, slowly looking over his shoulders at them. He takes a moment debating, "If you are willing to assist in providing a solution to alleviate the effects of my rut, it would involve a mutual agreement." As he speaks, Shockwave's processor analyses each move they make. “I'm willing to help Shockwave” they call back. 

It has the Decepticon scientist stalking towards them, frame vibrating and whining with each movement as he moves to pin them again the desk. 

"Fuck.... your really pent up aren't you?" There is worry in their voice which they try to mask as Shockwave runs a quick analysis. Their eyes nearly bulge when he releases his spike from its interface panel. a wave of relief that washes over him, as heated air leaves his frame. 

"I... I have been neglecting my own needs in pursuit of my work," Shockwave admits, his voice is gravelled and strained. "The effects of my rut have taken their toll.” 

"Can I touch?" Their eyes linger on his spike that slowly weeps Transfluid. his optics flickering with a mix of desire and uncertainty. "Proceed with caution," Shockwave responds. Their hands are rather small but they make a shutter and groan leave Shockwave when they come into contact with his spike. Fingers tracing over the lines and lights as they watch him. 

The sensation of their small hands tracing over the lines and lights of his spike ignites a primal hunger within him, urging him to seek more of their touch. Shockwave growls. 

They yelp as Shockwave roughly presses them onto the lab bench, caging them in underneath him as he looms over them. The slow drag of his spike across their body elicits a whine of need from the human, a sound that only serves to fuel his own primal urges to claim them as his.

"mine to claim," Shockwave growls, his voice low and commanding. As he hovers above the human, Shockwave allows himself to be consumed by the intoxicating smell of their skin, each touch and movement they make as another growl leaving him. As their thighs part to accommodate his movements, the intoxicating sensation of their bodies pressed together driving him to seek more of their touch. A low purr almost echo's from his frame. With slow, rhythmic rutting against them, Shockwave hunched over their smaller body. waves of pleasure ripple through his frame, the transfluid that soaks into their clothing. 

As his normal servo moves to hike up their shirt, discarding It as he studies them. "You are a creature of temptation," Shockwave murmurs, his voice laced with hunger. It's only when his servos Drift further down their body do they let out a loud whine. Shockwave is rather determined with ripping their pants off, only to be hit with an even more potent scent of their arousal, igniting a feral response within him. 

The sight of their exposed skin and the potent scent of their arousal fuel the flames. Spike leaks against them as he begins grinding against them, doing his best not to hurt them. "Please " they call out, shuttering as he drags his spike between their legs slowly teasing it against their sex. Their back arches as one of their hands grab his arm. 

Shockwave's systems hum with a mix of primal satisfaction as they surrender to him, pleading for him, their voice laced with need. The energon in his lines feel like fire. 

Shockwave presses his spike into them, so slowly as to not break them, using all his restraint. Their squeals as he grinds deeper into them their back arches as he rearranges their position.   

They cling to him, nails scratching against his paint. "Shockwave!" They call out. Shockwave feels a surge of satisfaction and arousal wash over him. The slow, deliberate thrusting between them elicits a chorus of moans and pleas, their arching back and collection of whines that fall from their lips has a deep rumble of contentment leave him. cry of his name, "Shockwave!", echoes in the air, a plea that spurs him on. He picks up pace, servo guiding them only his spike. The tight squeeze has him growling as he leans into them. Shockwave allows himself to be consumed by the intoxicating swirl of hormones, despite claiming every inch he physically could. 

Each drag of Shockwave's spike is followed by the symphony of moans and gasps that escape them. Shockwave continues to admire just how much of him they can take, watching each drag as transfluid leaks from their joint bodies. Another cry leaves them as Shockwave's spike begins to swell, locking them together, his Uneven thrust turning into deep grinds, his frame whines and gears grind towards loudly with a deep guttural growl from the Decepticon scientist.

"Shockwave!" The human's breathless cry of his name reverberates through him, The moment he overloads they squeal and squirm under him as he pumps transfluid deep into them. Eagerly rocking into them as his scenes slowly return feeling fulfilled and satisfacted. They twitch and whine even louder as they try to pull away only for Shockwave to roughly thrust into them again to keep them in place. 

“I require you to stay still” His voice sounds breathless as his helm tilts down and rest on the table they are pressed against. Each load of transfluid that is pumped into them, has whines leaving them. Transfluid running down the Junction of their legs. “Too Much” they try to argue only for more of the pink fluid to flood out of them as Shockwave presses deeper. At this rate Shockwave believe he might just have to come to an agreement to keep this human around. 

_________________

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Satoru Gojo Kiss Prompt: Back From The Dead

Pairing: Satoru Gojo x fem!reader

Prompt(s): “You came back./…” “I promised, didn't I?” + Returned From The Dead Kiss

Rating: Angst with some Fluff

Warning(s): This story contains some manga spoilers, but since I have not read the JJK manga or seen s2 at the moment, it's not totally accurate... I just hope you all enjoy it as this story isn't super specific to the prompts but it's the same idea, yeah?

WC: 1,926

Main Masterlist

A/N - This is yet another story of mine that was inspired by a fic written by another amazing writer here on Tumblr! It was inspired by this fic by the amazing @just-jordie-things!

*I will definitely have to make another story like this that is more based on the events of the manga and the anime when I get the chance too, so stay tuned for that!*

It had been weeks since your long-time boyfriend, Satoru Gojo, had been sealed in that damn box.

The world around you fell into chaos in a matter of minutes since word had got out that the great Satoru Gojo was in the prison realm.

Curses and Curse users seemed to crawl out of the shadows and the depths of hell itself to celebrate his removal from this plane.

Every day there's a new challenge just to keep up with exorcising all of the curses that came out of hiding.

There aren't many jujutsu sorcerers left...

So many have decided to or were forced to retire...

So many have died...

With that being said, there are only a few of you left who can fight this fight.

You included, even though you'd instead go straight after Geto for doing this to Satoru and putting you and so many others through this.

Not only do you have to deal with your desire to go after Geto and fight against curse users and powerful cursed spirits, but you also have to deal with the weight of fear you're carrying, not knowing of his well-being.

Is he even still alive in there?

You hope so...

You've also wondered if he's okay or if he's hurt so many at this point...

You know that time works differently in the prison realm, but that's all you know about it.

The box was supposed to be a rare object, but Suguru Geto had somehow found it and used it with such ease to seal Gojo inside.

Will he ever return?

You don't know for sure, but you hope that if you and the others can get your hands on the box and find a way to unseal him, your hope would be restored.

Thinking about Satoru and Geto being the one who had sealed him away as much as you have been ever since he was sealed into the box causes your mind to be occupied with anxiety for you to patrol the area you were asked to properly.

Your teeth grit together roughly as the thought of Geto being the one behind Satoru being sealed away in that box, your eyes currently focused on a rather rowdy group of teenagers messing around on the other side of the street near an alleyway, distracted.

Your feelings about Geto, who had once been a very close friend of yours, have always complicated, especially after he had reportedly killed his family and went on to slaughter hundreds of non-sorcerers...

You've struggled so much with the way you miss him, too.

No matter what he seems to do or what heinous acts he commits, some nights, you still cry yourself to sleep because you wish that things could go back to the way they were.

On most of those nights, Satoru sat awake with you, comforting you as you wept and reminisced about the good old days when you, Satoru, Shoko, and Geto were friends and would hang out and also go on missions together.

Satoru had spent hours combing his fingers through your hair, cooing softly about how he missed those days, too.

And now that you're here, Satoru is sealed away, and Geto is to blame; it's as though all of your feelings have become crystal clear.

You HATE Suguru Geto!

You hate who he's become.

You hate that he let himself take such a dark path.

You hate that he betrayed you, Satoru, Shoko, and jujutsu sorcerers everywhere.

Right now, though, you mostly hate him for what he did to Satoru.

When it comes to Satoru, though... you love Satoru Gojo.

You had known him since the two of you were very young children. You became close friends with him, which stayed that way until you got into high school when he asked you to be his girlfriend.

You had been dating ever since.

And even with Satoru sealed away, you love everything about him.

Not sensing any cursed spirits or cursed energy in general, you huff, deeming the area safe for now before starting your trek back to the apartment.

Walking home, you think about how long you've tried to remain positive.

For your students.

For the other sorcerers.

Being the closest to Satoru, you know that you have to put on a brave face and ensure everyone that hope is not entirely lost, that at the end of the day, everything will be okay, and good will triumph because that's how it's supposed to be.

You are feeling hopeless, though, and you've been carrying those feelings since that day in Shibuya when Itadori told you that Satoru had been sealed away.

You remember every second of your short interaction with him that day.

His wide eyes, his shaky voice, the way he had asked you what that meant, and then the look he had given you as he looked to you for guidance on how to help with the situation.

In response, you had sent him off rather quickly to help at the bus station, but truthfully, you just needed him gone so he couldn't see your entire foundation crumbling.

And then came the deaths of your friends... your students... and people you had fought alongside your whole life...; they all began piling up, and you couldn't help but feel hopeless...

What else was there to feel, though?

The man whose mere existence was supposed to put all of this at ease was gone, and now, with how long he's been sealed away, you're starting to think he'll never come back.

Cold raindrops hit your face just as you reach your apartment building.

You consider yourself lucky to have made it to your apartment building before the storm started, but the weight of your anguish squashes such positive emotion.

It's only a matter of time before you're killed too, you think bitterly, more irritated by the notion than afraid.

You know that you're getting reckless, as many of the others who are still fighting the fight have told you.

You're running on little to no sleep... Barely eating anything, which means your energy is always low.

In fact, the last few curses you'd had to exorcize were low enough in grade that you considered yourself lucky, but you knew that if you were to run into a grade one- or a special grade- you'd be lucky if your death is quick and painless.

"What am I going to do?" you mutter to no one and nothing in particular as you dig in your pocket for your keys, ready to enter the building and just go to bed and sleep—or at least try to.

As you're about to enter the building, you realize that the rain seems to have stopped, as you no longer feel the chilly wet drops hitting your skin.

'I could've sworn that the skies were overcast just a minute ago,' you ponder before tilting your head back to look up at the night sky.

Sure enough, the stars aren't visible, and the sprinkle had turned into a full-on downpour.

Even though you're now paying attention to the storm, hearing the distant rumbles of thunder, curiously, you remain dry.

You're not under an awning, and you don't have an umbrella, so you're not sure what's causing this phenomenon.

Your brows furrow in confusion as you stretch your hand out in front of you, reaching as far as you can, and to your surprise, you remain dry.

"What the hell?" you mumble as you look down at the pavement around you.

You can see a clear line before you, where the raindrops are pelting the pavement just in front of your feet.

You've seen and witnessed many weird things in your life as a jujutsu sorcerer, but this has to be the most peculiar thing you have ever seen.

You do a slow 360° turn, and just as you thought, the pavement underneath you is dry.

That's when you notice something strange when you turn away from your apartment building's door.

The dry patch of pavement stretches out another ten or so feet and clings around another figure.

As you look up at the figure, the air gets knocked out of your lungs as you see the familiar head of white hair, causing you to sputter for a second as tears sting your eyes.

"Satoru." you whimper out before running towards him at full speed.

As you reach him, you crash into him, clearly knocking the air out of him.

After stumbling back a few steps from the impact, his strong arms wrap around you, and he's holding you tightly against his chest.

"Oh my god... Satoru..." you gasp out as you cling to him tightly, with your arms around his neck and your legs wrapping around his hips to keep yourself in place, your hands getting lost in his pure white hair as you have your face buried in the crook of his neck.

"I know, sweetheart... I know..." he breathes gently against your neck as his own hands are lost in your hair, breathing in your familiar scent he'd damn near forgotten.

When you finally pull away from him, it's only for a moment, just long enough to see Satoru's pretty face, seeing that it's unharmed, which fills you with relief before your hands grab the collar of his t-shirt as you tug him against you so fast that your lips slam together.

This kiss is messy, your teeth clashing with his, both of you panting so hard that it's challenging to kiss properly, but you don't care about that one bit.

Just a minute ago, you were so sure you'd never seen him again, but now that he's here with you, you'll take any scrap of closeness you can get.

He has one arm wrapped under your legs to help support you, while the other tangles in your hair, pulling you back while he gasps for breath.

You let go, gasping for breath. "Oh my god, you're here, you're real, you-you're alive..." you whimper as you press your forehead against his, your hands cupping his face. "You came back...”

“I'm alive." he nods against your forehead, his lips brushing yours again.

"I promised, didn't I?"

That's right. Itadori mentioned that before he was sealed in the box completely, Satoru had told Itadori to tell you that he promised to return to you, no matter what and no matter how long it took.

"I'm here; I'm home," he says before giving you a long, deep kiss.

He lets go a few moments later, and you look him straight in the eyes.

"I thought-" you choke on your burning throat. "I thought you were gone, I thought- I thought I'd never see you again..."

You're tearing up again, the weight of your emotions confusing you, but you still muster a smile as you look at him. "I thought I lost you..."

"Oh, baby," he sighs, setting you down on your feet so that he can wipe your tears away. You didn't lose me; I'm right here." He assures you, and you nod, leaning into the warmth of his palm. And I'm not going anywhere, never again, okay?"

You nod back at him, shutting your eyes as you relish in the comfort of his presence.

Now that he's back with you, you can finally get your life back on track and end what's been happening with Sukuna and Geto.

Right now, though, all you want to do is stay wrapped up in his embrace, which is what you will do.

[bloopitynoot]

10 Modern* Genius Wei Wuxian- Wangxian Fics

ladysunami kindly gave me so many SVSSS and wangxian recs and I wanted to return the favour!

So here is another tried and true list of fics i've loved that fit in the Genius WY theme.

Parameters:

Wangxian!

Genius WY

Ideally sci fi/or modern setting (one is in the past but the rest are modern).

donghua or book canon; avoid yin iron. (there may be one I recommend that uses yin iron as a wire but not really as a plot device. It's present as a cultivation tool; ie it's good for resentful cultivation).

up to canon gore is chill

bonus if it includes both genus and BAMF WY

I have focused mostly on genius/brilliant fics but I tried to feature fics in which WY is extraordinary in his chosen field. Despite the odds (or not) he may face, he thrives. Many of them contain BAMF energy minus like the situational/workplace centric fics.

If you have a brand of Wangxian fic you want recs for- DM me! I love making these lists.

I hope you enjoy!

1 Wei Wuxian’s Guide to Hacking for Fun and Profit (150301 words) by ArgentInferno

Chapters: 14/14 Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, modern cultivation au, Hacker Wei Ying | Wei Wuxian, neurodivergent wangxian, Therapy for the win, Fluff, Shenanigans, Lan Wangji isn't good with feelings, Fighting against corruption, Talisman-based tech, Getting Together, Slow Burn, shameless flirting Summary: When Lan Wangji is seconded to the Lanling branch of the Cultivation Bureau, he expects a boring rotation. Perhaps a lonely one, but he is accustomed to loneliness, and duty is duty. He doesn’t expect to be partnered with an over-exuberant ex-criminal with far too much enthusiasm for hacking, making mischief, and annoying Lan Wangji. Wei Wuxian is everything Lan Wangji despises in a cultivator – he’s loud, unruly, and has no respect for anything. He’s even proud of what he did to get arrested in the first place. Unfortunately, he’s also very good at what he does. If Lan Wangji is going to figure out why someone with a talent for both hacking and talisman curses is targeting certain prominent members of Lanling’s high society, he’s going to need all the help he can get, for it’s far from a normal case. Solving it might put both him and Wei Wuxian in the crosshairs of some very powerful people on both sides of the law. Then again, given Wei Wuxian’s predilection for explosive experiments, working with him might be most dangerous part about the whole mess.

NOTES: I love this fic so much. I love when WY is a 'criminal' but all of the acts he was charged for were because he was being just- it feeds my activist heart. That paired with him being the best at hacking is so solid in this. Bless LZ for being as open as he is in this story!! This is a solid hacker with magic fic.

2 Starting at the End (19829 words) by katie_elizabeth

Chapters: 1/1 Rating: Explicit Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff, Romance, Getting Together, Fluff and Humor, Light Angst, Pining Wei Ying | Wei Wuxian, Pining Lan Zhan | Lan Wangji, Misunderstandings, Under-Desk Blow Jobs, First Time, Hand Jobs, Rimming, Thirsty Wei Ying | Wei Wuxian, Virgin Lan Zhan | Lan Wangji Summary: Wei Ying is confident that once he has a patent on the books, he'll be able to bring his coffins into funeral homes nationwide. They're biodegradable, affordable, and attractive–what more could a dead person desire? Unfortunately, for all of his talents in invention, Wei Ying isn't well-equipped for tackling bureaucracy. Hence, the need for a patent lawyer: a smart, intimidating, and extremely sexy patent lawyer from Lan & Sons. He sees it coming, like a car crash in slow motion: he is going to embarrass himself.

Notes: Okay I know this entire premise is screaming crack, but it is super cute LOL. Genius inventor WY has a lot going for him, but one skill he does not have is in patents. He decides to visit a patent lawyer but then cannot stop harassing the guy. super crackish, definitely not BAMF, but no denying WY isn't brilliant. This is a solid palette cleanser of a fic.

3 With No Particular Affection (92397 words) by Chrononautical

Chapters: 14/14 Rating: Explicit Additional Tags: Arranged Marriage, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Kid Fic, Miscommunication, Family Drama, Jiang Fengmian and Yu Xiyuan's A+ Parenting, Canon typical consent during sex, canon typical violence revamped for a modern setting, canon typical behavior from villains and honestly I toned it down a lot, Good Uncle Jiang Cheng | Jiang Wanyin, Wedding Fluff, Wedding Night, Genius Wei Ying | Wei Wuxian, Street Kid Wei Ying | Wei Wuxian, Homelessness, Rich Lan Zhan | Lan Wangji, Oblivious Wei Ying | Wei Wuxian, Lan Zhan's canon typical communication skills, Cinnamon Roll Wēn Níng | Wēn Qiónglín, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Wei Ying | Wei Wuxian Has a Pregnancy Kink, Wei Ying | Wei Wuxian Has a Fear of Dogs, background blink and you'll miss it nielan, Curtain Fic, not literally but I feel like I should warn for that, Domestic Fluff, Fluff and Angst Summary: A prominent physicist and professor, Wei Ying has built a life for himself in Chicago. He's safe, he's happy, and he has plans for his future. Unfortunately, those plans are derailed the moment he finds out his brother is in trouble. To save the family business, it will have to be Wei Ying's life on the line. He has to marry his old high school crush, Lan Zhan.

NOTES: If you like family serial dramas, this is the fic for you. We have; powerful families, genius WY, guilt tripped adoptee, business struggles, arranged marriages for capital gain, and children! It really cannot get more over-the-top dramatic. I also especially love that WY is a genius but acts as though he is aloof (even though he knows exactly what he's doing) it just adds to the vibes.

4 a tide in two seas (80932 words) by occultings

Chapters: 10/10 Rating: Explicit Additional Tags: Parallel Universes, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Post-Canon, Getting Together, Mutual Pining, Established Relationship, Mild Horror, Case Fic, mildly sci-fi, Jiang Cheng | Jiang Wanyin & Wei Ying | Wei Wuxian Reconciliation, First Time, Loss of Virginity, Married Couple, Love Confessions, Weird Plot Shit, i honestly don't even know how to tag this fic but there is freak4freak occurring, Podfic Available Summary: A midnight train, two unexpected encounters, and a rift in spacetime.

NOTES: This fic screams sci-fi and it is so rad. Cultivation is a thing, but so are space-time rifts. WY is so cool in this!! He is incredibly smart but also a certified badass with his time and space jumping. When cultivator LZ and rift jumper WY collide on a mission- we get this beauty of a fic.

5 The Shade of Old Trees (363665 words) by Kryal

Chapters: 25/25 Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Graphic Depictions Of Violence Additional Tags: Ridiculously Long Notes, Alternate Universe - History, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Slow Burn, 300k+ Words, Worldbuilding, Slow Life, Action/Adventure, Magic Returns, BAMF Wei Ying | Wei Wuxian Summary: “We rest in the shade of trees our ancestors planted.” They called the man in the ice Yiling Laozu, after a folk hero associated with the town in the foothills of the mountains where he was found. No one expected him to be alive!

NOTES: Okay I have posted this fic before but I absolutely LOVE it. The premise is so damn cool. Loads of scholars, scientists in a world with (seemingly) no magic there is a man in ice who awakens. Part case-fic, part romance, this is really a neat fic. A twist in the end too. WY is both so damn smart but also a BAMF.

6 We Meet at the Thousandth Step (315914 words) by Rynne, Admiranda

Chapters: 44/44 Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, No Sunshot Campaign (Modao Zushi), Cangse Sanren and Wei Changze Live, Rogue Cultivator Wei Ying | Wei Wuxian, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Night Hunts (Modao Zushi), Genius Wei Ying | Wei Wuxian, Inventor Wei Ying | Wei Wuxian, Plot, Romance, Drama, Fluff, Strangers to married, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Developing Relationship, Minor Violence, Case Fic, Mystery, Flirting, Wei Wuxian's Canon-Typical Flower Flirting, Arson, There Was Only One Bed, Getting Together, First Kiss, Meeting the Parents, Resolved Sexual Tension, Resolved Romantic Tension, Wei Wuxian Is a Good Big Brother, New Relationship Bliss, Chinese Mythology & Folklore, Blood and Injury, Yiling siblings, Married Lan Zhan | Lan Wangji/Wei Ying | Wei Wuxian, Honeymoon, Wangxian's Baby Fever Series: Part 1 of The Different Paths We Tread Summary: As they both go wherever the chaos might be, Lan Wangji and rogue cultivator Wei Wuxian, eldest child of the famous Cangse-sanren, find their paths converging. Soon they'll discover in each other the perfect partner for night hunting…and beyond.

NOTES: A favourite brand of fic is when Wei Wuxian's parents survive and he thrives. This is very much that! We get to see the brilliance that is WY, but we also get to see him fall in love with LZ in a way that has no strikes against him in a canon divergent world. This is an unbelievably sweet case fic. This is the one fic set in ancient fantasy times

7 Sometimes When We Touch (80763 words) by AitchNKay

Chapters: 19/19 Rating: Explicit Relationships: Lan Zhan | Lan Wangji/Wei Ying | Wei Wuxian Characters: Wei Ying | Wei Wuxian, Lan Zhan | Lan Wangji, Jiang Yanli, Jiang Cheng | Jiang Wanyin, Wen Qing (Modao Zushi), Wen Ning | Wen Qionglin, Jin Zixuan, Lan Yuan | Lan Sizhui, Lan Jingyi Additional Tags: Modern Era, Modern AU, Angst with a Happy Ending Summary: A modern day AU where Wei WuXian is a doctor who has his whole world taken away from him. And a former classmate who is so willing to give it all back to him.

NOTES: This is less a BAMF fic and more- WY is brilliant at what he does and deserves the recognition fic. I am not going to lie WY goes through a lot but the ending is happy! The angst surrounds the Jiangs especially Madam Yu- in the fact that they controlled and subsequently ruined his life and career. it does get resolved though thanks to the power of Wangxian.

8 Nursery Rhymes (96858 words) by manaika

Chapters: 13/13 Rating: Mature Additional Tags: they're all hopelessly flawed, No Therapy, Minor Character Death, character with a neurological condition (minor), Cameos, Inexperienced Wei Ying, Experienced Lan Zhan, Romance, Reconciliation, Budding Love, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Unreliable Narrator, a bunch of them actually, Medical Inaccuracies, Slow Burn, Flashbacks, Past Character Death, Childhood Trauma, Found Family, Foster Care, Past Injury, Nurse! Wei Ying, Doctor! Lan Xichen, Teacher! Lan Zhan, Character With A Heart Condition (Major), Past Incarceration (Major Character), Underage Character With Leukemia (Minor), it's actually very sweet, Captain Of The Heavy Cruiser WangXian Lan Xichen, Vicecaptain Of The Same Ship Jiang Yanli, almost everyone makes an appearance (see character tags), Music is a Love Language, Podfic Welcome, Fanart Welcome Summary: Lan Xichen is a pediatrician who often treats child abuse cases for various foster homes, orphanages and social workers for free. He's currently looking for a second nurse because Luo Qingyang is freshly back from maternal leave and can't be expected to work full time with a baby on hand and none of her substitutes were up to the task. Enter Wei Ying with a semester worth of med school, stellar recommendations, a huge gap in his CV and a laugh bright and warm as the sun. Skeptical at first, Xichen decides to give the man a chance. He gets more than he bargained for with exactly zero regrets.

NOTES: Following the previous dr wei ying fic, we have another healthcare worker wy fic! WY is brilliant at what he does but due to circumstances in life he struggles to get a job where he thrives. Xichen takes a chance on him and it ends up being glorious. WY is brilliant in this fic but he is also a bit of a bamf with the way he takes on child abuse cases. CW for mentions or child abuse though- it features a lot in this fic because that's what happens in pediatrics. But it has happy endings all around.

9 Hear a song this deeply (87424 words) by so_shhy

Chapters: 16/16 Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, modern cultivation au, Kind of academia AU, Music, Kid Fic, Canon-Typical Violence, Action/Adventure, To An Extent, Background XiYao - Freeform, canon-typical Meng Yao behaviour, Original Character(s), Slow Burn, Fluff and Angst, we love us some tragic backstory, Happy Ending, for wangxian at least, [slaps fic] this baby can fit so much plot in it Summary: “I’m not here to help you with your work,” said Lan Zhan, injecting frost into his voice to deter any further attempts at charm. “I’ll be focusing on my research.” Wei Ying cocked his head. “Research?” he said. “Mm. I’m a cultivation researcher, not a department employee. I’m reconstructing the ancient musical cultivation techniques of the Lan clan.” _ Lan Zhan’s new liaison at the Caiyi Municipal Cultivation Department is an enigma – ridiculously talented, yet somehow content with mopping up spiritual pests for barely above minimum wage. Wei Ying is slapdash and irresponsible, and Lan Zhan doesn’t like him at all… but then he meets A-Yuan, who loves music and longs for a piano his father can’t afford. Forced into cautious friendship by a four-year-old's music lessons, Lan Zhan soon realises Wei Ying is more than he seems. The single father is a man of many secrets – including, perhaps, the key to Lan Zhan's life's work. And in the meantime, the background resentment in Caiyi Town is rising to dangerous levels…

NOTES: I love this modern cultivator au because WY is straight up a secret genius. He is broke for sure but works so hard and does his job well (albeit a little bit unorthodox and wildly unsafe). This features both BAMF and genius WY and we get a slowburn with wangxian which is <chefs kiss>. We also get little a-yuan! Heads up there is angst in present and past but the ending turns out for Wangxian.

10 when the sun goes out (176383 words) by travelingneuritis

Chapters: 22/22 Rating: Explicit Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Modern Cultivation, tech cultivation, Necromancy, Angst with a Happy Ending, insecurity around adoption, Dad!WWX, dad!lwj, Grief/Mourning, Mistaken Identity, Mood Whiplash, Body Swap, sex tears!, Falling In Love, Consensual Somnophilia, apocalypse (localized), Smut, unrealistic sexual stamina, Flashbacks, Time Skips, Illustrations, Horror, Canon Temporary Character Death, Cultivation Sect Politics (Modao Zushi) Summary: Wei Ying was so strong, that was the thing. He needn't have sought out alternate methods at all. He didn't need to use talismans, he only did it for his own amusement. He invented new ones all the time. Useless ones, and silly ones; inventing just for the sake of it. He talked about tech cultivation like it was fun, not an embarrassment. You can fit a lot of living into the end of the world.

NOTES: I had not heard of TechnoMancy before this fic and the premise is so damn cool. I will warn this is like 70% angst but the ending pans out! I cried so much in this fic; mainly because of how the author chose to tell the story. The writing was really cool and immersive. Normally I hate when I cannot distinguish the time/place of a scene but this was done so well. Bonus for added art! This is the fic with the yin wire

[fuckyeselucien]

Creator Highlight #11 - @labellefleur-sauvage

Today we'd like to highlight @labellefleur-sauvage! We were so delighted when she came up on the wheel of fate, because @labellefleur-sauvage writes, consistently, some of the most interesting fan fictions in the community. She has no shortage of creativity, which makes picking three of her works incredibly tricky- all of them are so interesting, so fun, and SO well-written!

@labellefleur-sauvage captures the essence of Elain and Lucien, regardless of the setting. They might be in the mortal lands meeting for the first time, or an ancient mummy and a modern archeologist- no matter the time or place, they are ALWAYS recognizably Elain and Lucien.

Check out some of our favorites from her below, or check out her masterlist HERE:

Tempests And Urges:

Slowly, Lucien turned his head and his gaze found hers. Everything quieted. The house’s inhabitants were gathered around Lucien, talking about what he could expect, but Elain focused only on the male in front of her. She tried to convey her apology and sorrow and want with her eyes, frozen with indecision and unable to say what she wanted.

Lucien stared back at her, and while she could so clearly see his own sadness and longing reflected in his brilliant russet eye, he gave her a small, slow bow and turned away. Elain’s stomach dropped. He was going to leave her, and Elain would be stuck in this house like a neglected piece of furniture, without the one being who had a hope of truly understanding and listening to her. She took a half step down the stairs at the same time Lucien turned to Rhys and nodded his head…

“Wait!”

...

"Take me with you."

OR: A divergent ACOTAR fic, in which Elain goes with Lucien to find Vassa during ACOWAR.

The Highland Fox and English Rose:

Elain Archeron, the middle daughter of an enterprising English merchant, has been raised with one goal in mind: become the wife of a respectable Englishman. Everything else—her interests, her desires—didn’t matter. But when her father convinces her to enter into an arranged marriage with a brutal Scottish Laird to save their family from ruin, Elain is suddenly forced to reevaluate everything she thought she wanted in life.

As the newly appointed Laird of a derelict clan with a crumbling castle, marriage was the last thing on Lucien’s mind. His entire life is thrown into disarray when he is forced into a marriage contract he didn’t sign, to an Englishwoman he’d never met.

But Lucien harbors a dark, ruinous secret that affects more than just himself, and he is determined to resolve the issue at hand. Together, the Highland Fox and the English Rose will go on a journey that will force Elain and Lucien together—or drive them apart.

Or: an entirely indulgent Elucien Scottish Historical AU

The Curse of Sleepy Hollow:

In the quiet village of Sleepy Hollow in the human lands south of the Wall, there’s a local legend: that every All Hallow’s Eve, the ghostly form of a headless fae on a horse from the lands north of the Wall haunts the town for an evening, looking for his missing head and a human woman to take as his bride.

Too bad for Elain Archeron, the headless fae has found his head; now he’s looking for a bride, and he’s set his eyes on her.

Want to nominate someone? Fill out the form HERE

[blackenedsnow]

Heyy, if you’re comfortable doing so could I please get some Beetlejuice x fem!reader who’s a single mom? Just pretty much him being soft and comforting letting her know she’s doing a good job etc? Thank you in advance 💕💕💕 can be a proper fic or headcanons I’ll let you decide xx

beyond it

WARNING: References to the stress of single motherhood

PAIRING: Beetlejuice x Single Mother! Reader

NOTE: I absolutely loved writing this!! I hope you enjoy this, and thank you so much for the request 💕💕

SUMMARY: Beetlejuice surprises you by being a source of comfort, helping you see that you’re doing better than you give yourself credit for.

It was late—too late for you to still be up. But as a single mom, you didn’t have the luxury of falling into bed as soon as the day ended. No, there were dishes to clean, laundry to fold, and tomorrow to worry about. And of course, your child had woken up twice already, needing reassurance from a nightmare.

You were running on fumes, slumped on the couch, your face buried in your hands. It felt like all you ever did was work. Just when you thought you could finally close your eyes and sleep, your thoughts picked up again—worrying about what needed to be done tomorrow, whether you were doing enough, whether your child was okay.

“Hey, dollface, rough night?”

This fucking guy.

That voice—raspy, familiar—cut through the fog of exhaustion like nails on a chalkboard. Beetlejuice. You didn’t bother looking up. He was probably lounging in his usual spot, perched on the armrest of your couch with a stupid grin plastered on his face.

"Go away, BJ," you muttered half-heartedly. "Not tonight."

The ghoul groaned dramatically. "Aw, come on! And here I thought we were past the whole 'piss off, Beej' stage of our relationship." You felt a cold presence next to you, then his hand—decaying yet surprisingly gentle—lightly brushed your shoulder. "I mean, after all the times I’ve stuck around, don’t I get any appreciation?"

You exhaled sharply, finally lifting your head. "Appreciation? For what, exactly?"

"For being a goddamn delight, babes!" Beetlejuice beamed, leaning back against the couch and spreading his arms wide. "For hanging around when no one else does. Gotta say, not a lot of folks could handle a single mom with your level of stress."

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn't hide the tiny smile tugging at your lips. "If by 'hanging around,' you mean constantly being a nuisance, then yeah, sure."

Beetlejuice chuckled, his voice rough yet oddly soothing. His eyes, usually wild and manic, softened just a bit as they focused on you. “Ah, you love it. Don’t lie, babe.”

You shook your head, sinking deeper into the couch. "I’m just… tired, Beej. I'm really tired."

For once, he didn’t launch into another sarcastic quip. Instead, Beetlejuice shifted closer, his body language relaxed but attentive. “Yeah, I know. I can see it. You’ve been runnin' yourself ragged for, what, weeks? Months?”

Your eyes welled up, but you quickly blinked the tears away. “I just… I feel like I’m not doing enough. There’s always something I’m missing, something I should be doing better.”

Beetlejuice’s hand rested fully on your shoulder now, his touch surprisingly solid. "Oh, come on, you're killing it out here, babe. You think your kid’s got it bad? They've got you. And lemme tell ya, you’re doing a hell of a job. Better than most."

You glanced over at him, surprised by his sincerity. "Really? You think so?"

“Are you kidding? Babe, I see it. I see you juggling work, taking care of the kid, making sure they're happy. And yeah, it’s messy and chaotic, but guess what? They're fine. They're happy, ‘cause you’re busting your ass for 'em.” He leaned in a little closer, his expression for once free of mischief. “You’re doin' more than enough."

His words hit you hard, in a way you hadn’t expected. You didn’t know why, but hearing it from Beetlejuice—someone who you never thought would care about anything—meant something. It eased the tight knot that had been sitting in your chest all day.

“I just don’t want to mess them up,” you whispered, your voice trembling slightly. “They deserve better than… than this.”

"Whoa, whoa, slow down there, sweetheart." Beetlejuice’s voice softened. He slipped his arm around your shoulders, pulling you in close. “They've got you, and that’s more than enough. You’re not perfect—who the hell is?—but you're trying. And that's what matters. Trust me, when they grow up, they're gonna see that.”

You allowed yourself to lean into him, resting your head against his chest. His suit smelled like a mix of dirt and decay, but there was something oddly comforting about the way he held you, like he was actually trying to be there for you, to support you in his own weird way.

“Hey, tell you what,” he said, his voice low. “Next time you feel like crap, I’ll stick around. We’ll cause some shit together, huh? Might help take the edge off.”

You chuckled softly, wiping at your eyes. “Yeah, maybe.”

Beetlejuice grinned, but it wasn’t the mischievous, cocky smirk you were used to. It was softer, almost tender. “You’re doin' good, doll. Don’t let anyone—including yourself—tell you otherwise.”

You looked up at him, and for the first time since he’d shown up in your life, you realized how much you appreciated him. Not just as the obnoxious ghost who wouldn’t leave you the fuck alone, but as someone who—despite his crude humor and questionable ethics—actually cared. Maybe not in the typical way, but in a way that mattered.

"Thanks, Beej," you whispered, closing your eyes as you let the exhaustion finally catch up to you. "I mean it."

Beetlejuice stayed quiet for a moment, just holding you close. "Anytime, babe. Anytime."

[zipegs]

I’m back again with another rec list!! This time, I’ll be focusing on ostensibly lesser-known long fic—for my own organizational purposes, this means a word count of (approximately) 20k+. I will be including WIPs this time around, but they’ll be clearly indicated at such. Recs are divided into two categories—canonverse (including slight adjustments to it) and alternate universe. All fics are Hannigram unless otherwise noted. 

Please be sure to heed all archive tags and warnings! Hope you enjoy, and don’t forget to give the authors some love!!

Dolce Far Niente by @avegetariancannibal​ [E, 20k]

Hannibal and Will have many, many sweet things to say and do to each other.

Technically this is part of a series, but I found it reads perfectly well on its own! 20k of Will and Hannibal being soft, sappy, and incredibly in love post-fall. A little domestic fluff, a little vacationing, and a little smut—the holy trinity tbh.

The Fall, The Flood, The Flight - Hannigram by write_starlight_riots [T,  24k]

Hello! :]

This is mainly the manifestation of a very indulgent inspiration/daydream/thought experiment that seeks to explore what immediately-post-fall Hannigram would be like. And I mean /immediately/.

Also inspired by @/threadsoflacee on tumblr!

I’m a sucker for hurt/comfort, sickfic, and vulnerability, and oh man does this fic deliver! The boys are hanging on for dear life as they fight to take care of each other’s wounds while struggling through their own. Both of them are absolutely hamstrung by their injuries in the most delicious ways, and we also get some wonderful ~feelings~ drama and realizations mixed in with it all. Very visceral and desperate in the best of ways.

Io by cuspid [M, 24k]  * WIP

"You look tired, Will. Why don't you rest? I promise I'll wake you if anything should happen." "It's already happening," Will said, and Hannibal's smile widened.

On the way to the cliff house, Will begins to feel unwell.

SUCH an amazing A/B/O AU! Will presents as omega and goes into his first heat while he and Hannibal are driving to the cliff house. cuspid’s writing is STUNNING, and I’m particularly enjoying the way they weave omegaverse into the universe, including the cultural and language differences they include when we get Chiyoh’s POV. It really feels like an intrinsic (and very NBC Hannibal) part of the universe, and they fit it flawlessly into canon. Speaking of, they include some fantastic Chiyoh POV as well as POV from an original character who I fell in love with instantly. Amazingly hot, fantastic characterization, sexual tension... 1000/10 highly recommend. Last updated June 29, 2023.

The Rules of Disorder by @lestatdelioncourte​ [E, 53k]  * WIP

He is falling...

Will Graham falls off a cliff in the arms of Hannibal Lecter, finally accepting the darkest parts of himself. He wakes up, uninjured and in Hannibal's bed in his old Baltimore house. Confused, Will quickly realises something is wrong and has to navigate a new reality: one where Hannibal Lecter is not a killer, where they have made a life together without any of the familiar horrors. It is his ideal world...isn't it?

I’m definitely a sucker for parallel universe/time travel nonsense, and this fic doesn’t disappoint!! It’s so heartbreaking and hopeful and bittersweet—Will finally gets everything he could have had, only to realize it’s not the same as what he wanted at all. Very investing, emotionally rewarding fic! Definitely feeds my hankering for angst while not being one-note painful—it’s got that delicious balance of comfort and pain that I can’t get enough of. Last update was June 2023.

Honzen Ryōri by @terminalfids​ [E, 54k] * WIP

"I have never felt as alive as I did when I was killing him," Will admitted in a whisper, and it was true. His skin ached with it, felt like he might simply burst from it. It wasn't enough to contain him.

"Then you owe Randall Tier a debt," Dr. Lecter mused softly, still holding on to Will's hand as he cast a glance over the corpse before them. "How will you repay him?"

"I want to skin him," he said after a long moment, dragged out until he could feel Dr. Lecter's emotions swallow his own with anticipation. The man's feelings were bombastic. Loud and inescapable when he let them fly free on his face. It was easy to submerge himself in it, mirror it, until Will felt more of Dr. Lecter in his head than himself. Dr. Lecter wasn't a psychopath. He was more emotionally alive than anyone Will had ever met. He just also happened to be able to act as cruelly as though he felt nothing at all but cold curiosity at the simple flip of a switch. "I need the- the parts. I want to build him a monument. Do you know a place where I might do that?"

For the second time since his release from the BSHCI he thought that Dr. Lecter might kiss him. He told himself that he was relieved when he did not.

Canon-divergent from Naka-Choko. Picked this fic up soon after it was first published my god did I enjoy it!! The very first scene had me head over heels—it’s beautifully written, delightfully intimate, and has just the combo of hurt/comfort, inner conflict, and turmoil that makes me drool. I’ve loved the little changes terminalfids has made to canon so far, and the way they’ve echoed or adapted canon scenes and lines in new, appropriately divergent contexts. Really fantastic characterization and POVs from both characters—I love the insights we get from each of them and am SO excited to see how it all turns out! Last updated on February 2024.

A place you can never go by @det395​​ [E, 84k]

When things don’t go according to plan, Hannibal makes a wish. He finds himself a year-and-a-half in the past and seemingly given another chance with Will.

His feelings about the situation only get more complicated when he realizes he may not have completely lost access to his old timeline after all.

A Digestivo canon divergence.

I have never ever felt so emotionally conflicted (/positive) while reading a time travel/parallel universe fic! Jen writes these characters beautifully and captures their pain so well. I love the way she uses the memory palace throughout this, and I was hanging on every word. Absolutely stunning fic that has become one of my all-time favorites. She also has written two DELICIOUS timestamps/accompanying one shots, which are part of the same Ao3 series as this fic.

The Storyteller by @gzdacz-writes-fic​ [E, 188k]

Hannibal has little choice: to eliminate the threat he presents, he must stand by and let illness consume Will Graham. But the brighter Will burns, the more the delusions of his inflamed brain begin to spill onto Hannibal's world, until the boundaries between the real and imagined become faint - and something Other slips through.

Canon divergent from partway through season 1. I will rec this fic until I’m blue in the face. It starts out /painful/—Hannibal lets Will’s encephalitis continue on unhindered with some truly devastating results—and continues on a slow, emotional, bittersweet train that incorporates some truly lovely character moments, some great catharsis, and an incredibly engaging surreal/magical realism–style mystery. Fantastic writing and characterization, incredibly engaging through and through. HIGHLY recommend but be prepared for the road to be bumpy! There’s a lot of caretaking and recovery both mental and physical, in addition to some emotional turmoil 🥰

Callin’ Anybody, Can You Hear Me? by nobetterlove [E, 19k] 

Daring to take an Introduction to Visual Arts class, a completely blind Will Graham ventures into The Walters Art Museum for an assignment. While taking the narrated tour, Will isn't prepared for the heavily accented voice flowing through his speakers, flawlessly describing the art that brought each piece to life. Though it was hard to believe, love at first listen sat at the back of his mind.

Two years later, Will visits the museum every other Friday, fixated on both the voice and the beauty and knowledge his favorite museum had to offer. With the right connections and a true talent, Will scores a gig playing for the museum's latest exhibit reveal. When a recognizable voice makes the opening presentation, Will is overwhelmed with feelings and dreamed up possibilities. What happens when the voice becomes a real person, who finds Will just as interesting?

Or - the one where Will falls in love with Hannibal's voice before ever meeting him.

A really lovely piece! The characterizations ring so true to me and I love this portrayal of blind Will Graham. The author does a wonderful job with Will’s inner monologue and really beautifully portrays his perspective and interaction with the world as influenced by both his blindness and his Classic Will Graham character that we’ve all grown to love! The first meeting between Will and Hannibal is so heartwarming, sweet, and charmingly fluffy, and their relationship blossoms quickly—we’re treated to some really lovely dates that beautifully capture that honeymoon-stage flutter and fondness, and there’s a lovely navigation of their mutual loneliness that definitely hit home for me. Though this fic itself is technically complete, it does end on a cliffhanger meant to be picked up by a second installment of the series. If you end at the penultimate scene, though, it can be read as a complete work!

Songs for the End of the World by th_esaurus [M, 20k] Will Graham/Abigail Hobbs/Hannibal Lecter,  Will Graham/Abigail Hobbs

When the infection hits, swift and relentless, turning men into monsters and the world into a wilderness, Will Graham is one of the few who doesn't run. He's lost his wife, he has no colleagues, and Abigail Hobbs has been a ghost for such a long time; the only person he has left in the world is sitting in the dank cells of Baltimore Hospital for the Criminally Insane.

Waiting for him.

A TLOU-inspired post-canon AU written before s2 aired. Really beautifully written, fantastically emotional and heart-wrenching piece that kept me engaged all the way through to the bittersweet end. The characterizations are so good and the prose is amazing—highly recommend! For those who don’t normally read Will/Abigail or Hannibal/Abigail, it is present, but I think even those who don’t normally find that to be their cup of tea could enjoy this piece! There are a few very brief sex scenes between Will and Abigail (really no more than a few lines) but it’s the intimacy and distance and horror and love between the three of them that really shines through!

oh, give no faith to show by videcormeum [M, 25k]  * WIP

“Try to relax your shoulders. Be one with your body, do not fight it.”

Atoms separated them. Will swallowed. With a deep, steadying breath, he allowed his shoulders to drop. It felt better, the pull at his muscles easier. His chin lifted naturally. Projecting to the balcony.

Hannibal smiled. “That’s good, Will.”

Dancers are dying at a local ballet company. With local law enforcement convinced it's an inside job, promising FBI agent and ex-dancer Will Graham is sent undercover to investigate. When he meets renowned ballet dancer Hannibal Lecter, it becomes clear that the investigation will be anything but straightforward.

Yes, you need to read a Ballet AU. Trust me. The whole cast is repurposed here as part of the ballet company (except for Jack Crawford, who remains with Will in the FBI camp), from dancers Zeller and Bev to ballet master Hannibal, choreographer Chilton, and Madame Du Maurier. The piece is really delightful and full of emotion, old trauma, and sexual tension while also delivering some really fun company bonding and banter. Really lovely piece, especially for anyone with any interest or experience in dance or performance! Last updated May 2021.

A Trip for Biscuits by anothersummerday (M_hys_a) [E, 26k]

In late summer 1936, Bedelia du Maurier's traveling circus is plagued by a series of murders, and Will Graham begins a brief but passionate affair with a man named Roman Fell.

Wow, a delightful read all the way through! The circus aspect itself doesn’t play too big—we don’t see any performances, so it mostly serves as a backdrop that provides a really lovely traveling outcast feeling. We get an encephalitis-era Will analog here, grappling with having killed Hobbs and facing his canon-typical nightmares and sleepwalking, and then Hannibal, using the alias Roman Fell, shows up smack in the middle of all of it. Delicious repurposing of canon dialogue, lovely cameos and supporting roles from characters like Margot, Reba, Dolarhyde, and Peter, and just really smooth, engaging writing.

climb into your shell of grief by skellytons [T, 37k]  * WIP

"There is... a distinctiveness to the way that you carry yourself, Will. It is familiar in people like me and unfamiliar in people like them." Hannibal looks up at the sky, reading the stars. "And people cannot trust what they find unfamiliar."

"Well, what can I do about that?" Will scoffs, feeling quite lost indeed.

"You say you have this man's address."

"Yes."

Hannibal holds out his hand, palm toward the calm sky, "May I have it?"

Will has never been one for support groups. He hadn't planned to stay for long. And then he heard Dr. Lecter speak.

Retired FBI agent Will Graham finally gives in to pressure and attends a grief support group, and one of the members there immediately catches his attention (three guesses who that is). This is definitely a heavy one, so check the tags—lots of angst and hurt/comfort, and the focus really is on Will’s grief and trauma, the background and details of which are fed to us just a little at a time, enough to whet the palate but not give you the whole picture right from the start. It’s also got a fun mixture of canon characters, who poke in from the sides, and unfamiliar ones, who serve as a pleasant, not-at-all distracting backdrop for Will and Hannibal’s interactions. Last updated May 2024.

give it to the dirt by @ropertplant​ [E, 132k]  * WIP

Hannibal gets called in to consult on his second FBI case after The Minnesota Shrike; a string of murders connected to New Orleans. While he’s there, he meets a very interesting tour guide for the city.

They talk. They argue.

And they have much more in common than they may realize.

This is the Hannibal we know from canon—Chesapeake Ripper, psychiatrist, consultant for Jack et al back at the FBI—put up against the Will we know in spirit, if not in exact circumstance. Will has remained in New Orleans and works as a tour guide, living in isolation on the swamp with his seven-plus dogs. There is so much to love about this one!! The characterizations, dialogue, and banter, for one, are delightful and so striking. We get a delicious helping of smitten Hannibal, bitchy/abrasive Dark!Will, delightful inner conflicts, sexual and romantic tension, some hilarious peeks at Team Sassy Science, and more. There are some INCREDIBLY fun and incredibly hot scenes, and there’s great humor throughout along with some really well-done sweet moments. This one absolutely consumed me—once I picked it up I couldn’t put it down! Last updated July 2024.

Symbasis by @bloodripelives​ [E, 126k]

Anabasis: a journey up away from the coast, cf. Xenophon, Alexander. Katabasis: a journey towards the coast, or, descent to the underworld, cf. Persephone, Orpheus.

The world is being torn apart and remade. The ripper of Carthage thinks to help with the tearing; a desert prophet is ready to be remade.

REALLY fantastic Historical AU that starts out at the end of Alexander the Great’s siege of Tyre, where Carthaginian Hannibal son of Lectis happens to have been stuck along with the rest of his envoy for the past seven months. Meanwhile, this version of Will (Weldjebauend, or Wel for short) is an Egyptian priest of Ammon-Re; he’d been found in the desert when he was a child by Joh (Jack), another priest of Ammon-Re, who’d taken him under his wing and brought him into the priesthood. Will’s encephalitis-induced hallucinations and empathy are repurposed into visions and knowledge sent by the gods, Hannibal is a hoplite soldier as well as a murderer who’s got a blood feud to avenge, and some of our favorite minor characters are woven in throughout, including Beverly (Bacaxa), Jimmy (Jason), and Brian (Briarios). There’s A LOT of history in this, and Alexander the Great and the historical happenings that go along with him definitely do not take a backseat. It’s a bit of a slow burn leading up to Will and Hannibal meeting and getting to know each other in any capacity, and it’s an enthralling ride—tei’s writing is fantastic and the characters are absolutely engaging from the very start!

[frownyalfred]

I've seen the idea around and was wondering about your thoughts on it?

That an Alpha nearing rut starts to become "aggressive" to non pack mates and starts making sure the nest/den is secure and protected. And that an Omega nearing a heat starts to prepare the nest and cleans everything around it, maybe even starts hoarding food and water in preparation.

Do you follow that idea for your own au? And what do you think a betas "job" would be? Would they feel a combination of these urges too or be the one to keep the level head and able to think not having a mind clouded be heat/rut thinking

I love this idea! I definitely lean more into the traditional a/b/o tropes when it comes to alphas preparing for their ruts. I described this a little bit in my pennywaynes a/b/o fic, where Martha and Alfred were laughing a bit at Thomas' expense. Clark acts this way a bit in ASOH when he starts accidentally going into rut and growls at Dr. Thompkins when she says something he doesn't like -- and of course, Lex smacks him and he's totally fine with that, since Lex is pack and Leslie isn't. I don't normally write den-defensiveness into my a/b/o fics, just since I build my AU's pack life around the omega's nest, which the alpha is allowed into but doesn't own like an alpha den. His den is his people, right?

For omegas, I find it much more fascinating for them to mirror alpha rut instincts instead of just falling into the domestic. So they get territorial and defensive of the nest too, but their instinct is to be close with pack members instead of just protecting them. They're inwardly focused, trying to stay close and soothed by having their pack mates close to them, often in the nest itself but not always. The omega also stops eating and drinking as much in preparation for the heat, which is why having the pack mates nearby is so important -- they can help provide pre/post heat care and encourage them to eat and drink even when their instincts betray them a little.

As for betas, I think you're right and they're the "clear headed" ones out of the bunch. But they're also not entirely unaffected. In ASOH Alfred is very much the pack beta, and he spends most of the 2-3 heats/ruts we see in that series providing a ton of care. Some of it is very much instinctual, that is, he's the one who feels better doing it. Checking on the pack, making sure everyone is fed, making sure things are going well in the heat/rut. Helping soothe pre and post cycle worries and hormones. So it's maybe not so much that he's clear headed as he's just got a different job than an alpha or omega in the moment.

[beth20light]

𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓓𝓲𝓼𝓽𝓪𝓷𝓬𝓮

Jacob black x Reader

A/N: Hello! Right now i’m really obsessed with jacob black x reader fics but i cant seem to find something that i liked :( Soo i decided to write mine. Its gonna be 2 or 3 chapters im not sure yet and english is not my first language please excuse my mistakes .Anyway i hope you guys like it 🥰

Note: In this world there is no bella. So not any love triangles. There are vampires but just mentioned briefly. And both of you are above 18.

Summary: Your dad, Charlie, and Billy were on a fishing trip, and somehow you and Jacob ended up tagging along. When it was time to head back, everyone paired off, and you ended up with Jacob. Now, the two of you were already on the road in Billy’s old truck, heading back to Forks.

The car ride was quiet since both of you were tired from the fishing weekend with your dads. You just wanted to go home and sleep in your bed. While thinking about your cozy bed, you glanced at Jacob. He was focused on the road, not wanting to hit a deer or something in the middle of the night. Jacob had been your friend since your family moved to Forks when you were 12. Billy and your dad were friends, so it wasn’t surprising that you and Jacob became friends too. He was a good friend, but you and he had drifted apart for a couple of months. He’d been acting strange—cutting his hair, changing his look, hanging out with Sam, who he hated the most, and putting distance between the two of you for reasons you didn’t understand.

Somehow, you both ended up on this trip together. Instead of asking why he’d been distant, you decided to let it slide and act like nothing had happened. Only small gestures giving something that he needs etc. dull thanks and you are welcomes. Pf course your dad understand that there is something happened between you two. So maybe the reason that your dad wanted you to go with Jacob rather then himself. But now, with just the two of you alone, the mood felt more awkward then the fishing trip.

“Is there something on my face?” Jacob asked, lifting his lips slightly.

“What? No,” you said, caught off guard.

“ You’ve been staring at me for a couple minutes you know” He smirked.

You hadn’t realized you were staring at him, lost in thought about what had happened between you two.

“I was just looking at your new look. New hair, biggest biceps ever, and all. You’ve changed a lot. I do like your new look, but I miss the long hair,” you said with a half smile.

He gave a small, bittersweet smile. “Well, some things had to change. Nothing stays the same.”

The silence between you lingered after Jacob's quiet words. You turned your attention back to the road, focusing on the dark stretch ahead as you got lost in your thoughts again. You still couldn’t find a reason for why Jacob was acting this way, and it made you sad. His refusal to share anything with you only deepened your disappointment. It was as if the two of you had never been best friends who shared everything.

“What the—” Shaken from your thoughts by Jacob’s words, you looked around. The car was slowing down, and Jacob didn’t look happy. “What’s happening?” you asked with a concerned glance.

“The car is breaking down,” he sighed. “Great.” He leaned back in his seat and rubbed his face with one hand. “Just what we needed.”

You sat up a little straighter, looking out the window at the seemingly endless stretch of dark highway. The woods loomed on either side, the only light coming from the car’s dim headlights and the faint glow of the moon.

“Is it the engine?” you asked, trying to hide the nervousness creeping into your voice.

Jacob shook his head. “I’m not sure yet. Let me check.”

He unbuckled his seatbelt and got out of the car, the door creaking as it closed behind him. You watched him walk around to the front, popping the hood and disappearing into the shadows. The night air seeped into the car, cold and unsettling.

You pulled out your phone to see if there was a signal. Of course, there was none. How could it be a signal in the middle of nowhere? As panic started to rise, you hoped it was something fixable.

Jacob reappeared a few minutes later, wiping his hands on his jeans. “Looks like something’s wrong with the radiator. We’re not going anywhere,” he said with a shrug. “Let me call Dad so he can come get us.” He reached for his phone.

“We can’t. There’s no signal,” you sighed nervously, getting out of the car. “ What are we gonna do now ?”

Seeing your nervous, Jacob said, “Hey, relax. Y/N At least you’re not alone.” With his words, you glanced at him. The idea of spending the night stranded on the side of the road with your best friend—who had suddenly put distance between you for some unknown reason—wasn’t how you had imagined ending the weekend.

But it was better than being alone in the middle of the night, you thought.

“I think there are about 20 miles left. We can go on foot,” he said while looking at the empty road.

“Are you serious? You want to walk all that way? It’s nearly five hours of walking.” You looked at him in disbelief; he couldn’t be serious about this. Not to mention the wild animals that could attack at any moment.

“Yeah,” he murmured. “I guess we’re stuck here until our dads realize we’re not home yet.”

“I hope they realize soon.” you said while looking at the endless woods beside you.

A wave of cold swept through you, making you shudder. you rubbled my arms without realizing.

“Y/N, you’re going to get cold. Get in the car,” Jacob said, scanning you. You nodded and went back to the car. Inside wasn’t that warm either since the car broke down, but it was better than being outside.

Jacob sat down in the car too. It was time for silence. Everything was worse between you two now; You had to sit with him on this cold night until God knows when. With the car broken down, the inside was getting colder. You realized your fingertips were freezing, so you put them in your pockets.

“Are you cold, Y/N?” Jacob suddenly asked, concern etched on his face. “Why i am asking? Of course, you are.”

“Thanks for the concern, but unless you have a blanket you can give me, I don’t think you can help,” You said with a sly smile. “Wait, aren’t you cold too?” You asked suddenly, looking at him with a confused expression. The cold didn’t seem to bother him.

At your expression, his concerned face shifted, and he smirked. “No, only weak people like you get cold. Not me.”

Ha ha ha, You laughed ironically. “You are a joker now. Keep the comedy to yourself, I’m freezing.” You said, side-eyeing him.

You were warming to each other, making jokes, but the cold wasn’t letting up. You rubbed your arms again to feel some heat.

“Hey, come here,” he said while opening his arms.

You looked at him, confused. “You want to hug me now? How is that going to help?”

“Since I’m the hot one in both ways, I can help you not die from the cold.” He spoke with a cocky tone. “Besides, if I let you die like this, your dad would kill me too.” Without giving you a chance to respond, he gently pulled you to him and wrapped his arms around you. You rested your head and hands on his chest. He was holding you tight, not letting you escape. Then you realized and asked, “Jacob, why are you so hot?”

“What do you mean? I was always hot,” he said sarcastically.

“No, Jacob, why is your body so hot?” You asked, concerned as you tried to look at his face. “Do you have a fever?” You put your hand on his forehead; he was burning. “Why didn’t you tell me? I let you drive all this—” Your words were interrupted by his laughter.

“Ahh, I missed this,” he sighed. You were still looking worriedly at his face. “No, I’m fine. I’m like this all the time, so it’s not a fever.”

“Did you go to a doctor?”

“Yes, I did,” he said while pulling you closer to his chest. “You don’t need to worry. I’m fine.”

“Are you sure ?” You asked again. Didn’t get satisfied with answers “Yes for the billion time I’m fine.” He smiled with this unending questions.

“That’s good, then,” You said, you felt that he nodded.

All this chatting felt like old times. Both of you were joking again; You were worrying over him, and he was assuring you that he was okay. Just like that time when he fell off his bike and acted like nothing happened because he didn’t want you to worry. Those were good times.

You were getting warmer, of course. Jacob was practically an oven. Lost in your thoughts, a small giggle escaped from your mouth.

“What happened?” he asked.

“Nothing, just my thoughts,” you said. He hummed agreeingly. There was silence again. This was the only time you could get alone with him, so you decided to speak.

“Hey, Jacob.”

“Yes, what’s wrong, Y/N?”

“Do you really miss us?” You asked, your head still on his chest, unable to see his reaction to the question.

He didn’t answer immediately. Then he sighed. “Yes, I do miss us. But there are things, Y/N, I can’t—”

You interrupted him. “What things, Jacob? What is it that you can’t tell your best friend?”

He sighed again, but it was different this time. “There are things that can harm you. You don’t understand now, but I’m trying to protect you.”

“You’re protecting me by leaving and hanging out with Sam? I thought you hated him,” You said with a frustrated voice.

“I did hate him, but now I don’t. It doesn’t matter,” he said. “And yes, I’m protecting you by leaving.” His voice grew louder. You didn’t say anything, then his voice softened. “I wish I could tell you what’s happening, but I can’t. I’m sorry. This is the best for you.”

There was little silence again. You still couldn’t understand why he won’t tell. And it was eating you from inside not getting any answers. You felt desperate. The answers were on tip of his lips but he choose not to say anything. Maybe he didn’t trust you enough to say it. This even made you sadder.

“Will it always be this way until the end?” You asked, your voice cracking. It was your last attempt to get him to speak. Being like this forever made your heart feel so heavy with sorrow. You felt like you were going to cry, so you closed your eyes tightly, trying to keep the tears from escaping.

“Y/N I—” he started, but he didn’t finish his sentence.

You didn’t ask anything else, and he said nothing. Your bodies were close, but not your souls. You were scared to open your eyes again face the facts. With the warmth from him, and with your unending thoughts you fell asleep on his chest.

[thatgirlwithasquid]

letters that i can never send

words: 25,571

Chrissy/Tina | Teen and Up Audiences | POV Tina | Ghost Chrissy Cunningham | Letters | Right Person Wrong Time | Unhappy Ending

beyond excited to get to share my fic for @sapphicstevents' stranger things sapphic mini bang!! writing it definitely fought me for a while but i'm really proud of this fic.

so here's the first chapter and a cover i threw together to post it with! the whole fic is up on ao3 here, and @hullomoon has been amazing and created a podfic of the work for anyone interested in listening <3

---

Chapter 1 : A Pack Of Green Scrunchies

words: 5,739

June 20th, 1986

Dear Chrissy,

I wish I had known you before everything went mad. 

I think I told you that before, but I mean it now more than I meant it then. It feels so crazy to think that we went through school walking past each other in the halls and not even glancing in each other’s direction. I know that I did the same thing to other kids but it still feels impossible.

My mom took me out to the mall the other day—there’s a mall in this town, not like the destroyed one in Hawkins. It’s full of people and stores and it's loud. I didn’t like it. I always used to find it annoying how quiet Hawkins was sometimes, but I hate how loud it is here. There’s too many people talking and smiling and I can’t see them without thinking about how oblivious I was before I met you.

They were selling scrunchies in one of the stores. My mom was looking for a new purse but I stopped to look at them instead. I bought a pack of green ones because they made me think of you. I wonder if that’s what you would smell like; cotton fabric and lingering perfume from my wrist.

I miss you. 

Tina.

—

The lights in the hospital waiting room hum with an electric static. Even under all the anxious chatter and background noise of the hospital, it’s the only thing Tina can hear. Well, that and the fading ringing in her ears.

Her hands clench and unclench around the hem of her shirt as she watches the minutes tick by. Beside her, her dad’s leg bounces up and down. She’s not sure if he’s aware of her watching him. The man stares ahead down the crowded hall through the chaos as if her mother will suddenly appear there, good as new.

Tina doesn’t say anything, just reaches out and entwines their fingers, letting out a sigh of relief as her father squeezes her hand back. She needs his strength to lean on. It doesn’t matter that, rationally, Tina knows her mother’s injuries from the earthquake were far from the most severe that came through those hospital doors today.

She’s never been more scared than she was when her dad came stumbling out of the rubble, shirt bloodied and with her mom’s arm over his shoulder to support her weight. Tina had been so frantic that she can’t even remember if her mother had been conscious at that point. She was out cold during the drive to the hospital, though; the sounds of ambulances and firetrucks and police cars responding to the destruction weren’t even enough to break her from her state. Her father had somehow remained stoic then, too.

Thankfully, it’s not too much longer before a nurse lets them visit her mom. After hours of waiting, they’re more than ready to see how she’s doing. 

With all the trouble caused during the disaster, her mom is crammed into a room with other people, separated only by a flimsy curtain. Around them, the relieved reconciliation of other patients and their families fade into the background as Tina reaches her mother’s side and grasps at her hand where it lays atop her blankets. 

IVs poke into her skin and wires trail off to monitors she doesn’t even begin to want to look at. Instead, Tina focuses her gaze on her mom’s weary face. She looks tired, eyes rimmed with dark circles that are only accentuated by the pale colouring of her skin. But she seems okay, all things considered, and Tina sighs out in a relieved whoosh of breath.

The nurse goes over her mom’s condition with her dad, but Tina hardly takes in a word—the moment the nurse confirms that her mom will be okay, she tunes her out entirely. Instead, Tina drinks in the sight of her mom, brushing a careful thumb over her scraped knuckles and almost tearing up when her mom gives her a small smile in return.

Eventually, the nurse hurries off again and Tina’s dad slumps into a chair beside the bed. Tina barely glances his way, too scared to look away from her mom, convinced that if she so much as takes her eyes off her, something terrible will happen again.

“Tina,” her mom sighs. “I’m okay. You don’t need to look so worried.”

Tina shakes her head.

“I was so scared,” she manages, voice cracking under the tears she spent so long suppressing. They finally rush down her face in a flood of emotion, tasting salty where they converge in the corners of her mouth.

“Oh, baby,” her mom says, voice softening. “It’s going to be okay now, okay? Why don’t you go and get some rest, you look exhausted.”

Tina can’t help but laugh at that, an ironic, choking thing. “I look exhausted?”

“Well,” her mom smiles before shifting slightly and doing her best to smother a wince. “I’m already laying down and getting rest. I’m more worried about you.”

Guilt stabs Tina’s heart like a blade. Her mom’s the one in a hospital bed, with doctors and nurses hovering around outside to help if needed, and yet Tina’s the one acting like the world’s weighing down on her shoulders. It’s shameful in its own way. 

Tina always thought she was strong enough to be her parents’ equal. She did well enough in school and had plenty of friends; her parents saw how grown up she was and even helped her plan her Halloween parties; her mom told her everything—every annoying thing someone at work said, every snippy little complaint about her dad forgetting to hang the washing out…

And here she is now. Comforting Tina like she’s a little kid in need of a nap and not a seventeen-year-old who should be better than this. So, she shakes her head, plastering on a smile even as her eyes sting with another wave of tears and, admittedly, exhaustion.

Before she can put up much protest, her dad pipes up to agree with her mom. It doesn’t leave enough room for anything more than Tina going along with what they want. Her dad almost follows before he hesitates, catching her mom’s eye. She nods back at him.

“Why don’t you see about finding some dinner for us two? I won’t be far behind you, I just need to have a talk with your mom.”

What is Tina supposed to do about that other than leave? She’s obligated to listen to her parents, even if she wants to stay. Besides, she’s sure she’ll be visiting her mom as often as she can until she’s discharged. 

So, it’s fine. All this is fine.

When she gets to the door, Tina turns and looks back at her parents one last time. With all the other people talking in the room, she can’t make out what her parents are discussing. What she can make out is the way her father’s face pinches into a concerned frown. 

Whatever it is they wanted to talk over without her must be serious. Resigned, Tina sets off in search of the cafeteria. It feels strange, pushing on through crowds of the distraught and the injured. Against her better judgement, her eyes catch and linger on the horror around her. 

Nothing will ever be the same after this, not in Hawkins at least. Too much bad has happened, too much to even let herself think about.

By the time her dad finds her in the cafeteria that evening, the dinner that Tina bought them has long since gone cold.

—

School doesn’t reopen until a week later—a week filled with funerals and clean up and searching for anyone still buried under the rubble. During that time, Tina recovers what she can from her trashed house to cram into some other girl’s bedroom. She should probably count her lucky stars that its usual inhabitant left for college a year ago, otherwise she would be knocking elbows in this little space—seemingly so much smaller than her own room was.

She longs for home: for her corkboard of polaroids of herself and her friends, for each marker line creeping up her door frame dedicated to a year of her life, for her fuzzy blue blanket, and for so many more little comforts that she had taken for granted. Staying here, in someone else’s bedroom while her dad stays on the pull-out downstairs, makes her feel strangely like a jigsaw piece jammed into the wrong puzzle.

There’s nothing to be done about that, with the roof of her house half-collapsed it’s not like they have much choice other than this. She is grateful that her dad’s work friend—Mr. Daniels—took them in, but that doesn’t stop her longing for what she’s lost.

Returning to class brings back none of the normality she longs for, either. Sure, the cracks in the road outside have been hastily paved over for the most part and the classrooms have been deemed safe to return to despite whatever state the earthquake had left them in, but everything has so clearly shifted…

All Tina sees, everywhere she looks, are the empty seats. The ones from kids whose families fled the town are one thing, one type of grief for the friends she’s not sure she’ll ever see again. The rest are something else entirely, vacant seats that will never be filled; those seats offer no question to their absence in Tina’s life.

So far, she has been to eight funerals. Three of them were some of her best friends. She didn’t sleep the nights after any of those. After the last one, she hasn’t been able to bring herself to attend any more; it turns out that there’s only so many bodies you can handle saying goodbye to within such a short period of time.

Mr. Clarke clears his throat, trying to recapture the forlorn attention of the room. Even he can’t seem to muster a genuine smile so Tina doesn’t know how he expects the students to care about any of this. Honestly, she’s surprised the school has even bothered swapping teachers to fill in for staff absences with how little chance they have at passing their exams after all this. If their grief wasn’t enough, having a teacher so clearly unprepared to deal with older kids isn’t going to help them learn at all.

She remembers Mr. Clarke from middle school and almost, very briefly, feels bad for thinking poorly of him. He’d been a nice enough teacher. She’s sure he’s still nice enough, but she just doesn’t have it in her to care about stuff like that anymore. Not after everything. She’s not sure how she fits into this new, broken version of Hawkins; how the hell should she be able to care about how everyone else fits in?

Slowly, the eyes of the class do raise to the man where he stands, squirming at the front of the room, backdropped by the chalkboard covered in scrawled science Tina hasn’t understood a word of. She can’t help but think that their usual teacher would have explained it in a way that made so much more sense to her.

She doesn’t know if that teacher is one of the leavers or worse.

Everyone sits quietly as Mr. Clarke stumbles his way through telling them about the commemorative assembly that is going to be held in the gym. Both schools will be coming together in a few days time to remember their lost friends, or at least that’s the plan.

Silence hangs in the air for another excruciating moment. Then the whispering finally begins. Names get thrown around, ones Tina is sure must belong to the dead.

“Jason,” someone whispers.

“Carol,” says another.

“Nicole—”

The whispering gets cut off abruptly by the scraping of a chair as it’s shoved out from under its desk. Some kid launches himself to his feet and stalks out of the room, eyes red-rimmed. Behind him, the classroom door slams shut on a spluttering Mr. Clarke.

Whispers start up again in the wake of his sudden departure. This time, Tina tunes them out. Instead, she sets her thoughts adrift, steering away from anything too dour to think on. She doesn’t want to deal with this today. They’ve only been back at school for a day. 

She isn’t ready for this yet. It doesn’t feel like there has been nearly enough time for any of them to come to terms with this. How the hell are they going to get through these last two months of school and—

“Tina!”

Blinking back to her senses, Tina looks up, across the lunch table and to whoever called her name. It’s Vicki, looking at her with wide, concerned eyes. She probably should be concerned, Tina can only vaguely recall walking to the cafeteria, she’d been so trapped in her own mind.

“Sorry, what did you say?” she asks.

It’s just the two of them, perched on the edge of a sparsely populated table. Their group used to be a lot bigger.

“I—” Vicki starts, hesitates, and then leverages a painfully forced smile onto her face. “I asked if you figured out what you wanted to do at college yet.”

She wants to wince, to cringe away from the inane topic. It makes her feel sick to pretend that everything is normal. People died, other people got hurt, the town is a mess. Why would they be worrying about stuff like this as if it means anything at all anymore?

“I don’t know. With my mom in the hospital everything’s changed. I haven’t had time to think about it.”

Vicki squirms uncomfortably at her confrontational tone, looking chastised. It makes her deflate a little, feeling suddenly very cruel. Just because Tina doesn’t know how to play at being normal, doesn’t mean she has to be such an ass to her friend over it. She still cares about her and being a bitch is only going to drive a wedge between them. It’s not like she has many friends left after everything, either.

Her hands tremble in her lap and she shakes them out as if that might banish some of her simmering nerves. It doesn’t. With a tense kind of control, Tina pushes up to her feet. Vicki’s eyes swivel up to her, surprised by the abrupt shift.

“Bathroom,” Tina chokes out, trying to tamper down the frustration in her voice.

“Tina…” Vicki starts but Tina is already walking away.

The lighting in the bathroom is dingy and off-putting, and yet the electric buzzing of those fluorescents still puts her in mind of sterile hospital walls. Her mom’s been making a great recovery, she reminds herself. She’ll be home before she knows it. Maybe then everything will start going back to normal.

The porcelain basin of the sink stares, glaringly white up at her as she leans over, splashing her face with metallic-tasting water from the old taps. Her ragged breaths send speckles of water back into it as it drips in trails down her face. She’s probably smudged her makeup now, and it didn’t even help at all.

With a choked sob, Tina turns her face upwards, meeting the paled expression of her reflection; eyes wide, droplets of water clinging to mascara-tinted lashes. But that’s not all she sees.

A sick feeling of horror settles deep in her stomach as she notices something from the corner of her eye—something hovering behind her, in the corner of the bathroom. The room had been empty when she came in. Heart hammering, startled by being snuck up on, Tina whirls around to see—

Nothing.

Just an empty, dingy, school bathroom. The green doors of toilet stalls stare back at her impassively as she clutches a hand to her chest, willing her racing pulse to settle.

It was nothing. It was her mind playing tricks on her. It had to be nothing. Because if not, how could she explain that fleeting glimpse of the ghost of Chrissy Cunningham?

—

Tina’s pen taps restlessly against the Daniels’ kitchen table, the only sound in the eerily silent house.

Sharing a living space with another family comes with all the chaos one would expect, with each of their routines clashing loudly and incompatibly as they stumble around each other each morning and night. And yet the quiet moments like this are almost worse, when everyone is out working or visiting the hospital or whatever else it is these people do. Aside from Tina, it’s empty. Abandoned, almost, like the rest of this god-forsaken ghost town.

She scratches a frustrated line through her pitiful homework attempt and pushes it away across the table, out of sight and out of mind as she stares distractedly out the window. The chair she sits on creaks as she leans to the side, trying to look out into the street. Usually at this time of the evening, kids would be running around, excited and playing in the warm spring air. Usually parents would be seen and heard, trying to cajole their kids inside for whatever they had cooked up or ordered in for dinner.

Tonight, there is nothing but a creeping sunset that paints the sky a dull pink, like drops of blood diluted in a lake of blue. There is no one finding time to play, and no one enjoying a peaceful evening, and Tina’s parents aren’t here. It’s just her, alone with her anxious mind.

She should be at the hospital, trying her best to be there for her dad and checking in on her mom. But going there again and again felt like poisoning herself, losing herself in worry that would set her heart pounding and mind spiralling. It doesn’t matter to her scared brain that she knows her mom is doing much better, she still can’t help but feel sick with worry.

And she’s so tired. It makes visiting her mom so difficult because her mom gives her this pitiful, concerned look whenever she sees her like this. Tina just can’t take that; being a burden to her parents instead of a place of support. They have nothing to be worried about, really. It— She’s just tired…

She can’t sleep with worrying about if something happened to her mom in the night, or if another earthquake might come to completely level this damn town. And what’s more, her mind hasn’t been able to stray far from the thought of what she saw—or what she thinks she saw—in that damn bathroom. Any time her mind has a chance to wander, her thoughts get inevitably dragged back to that sight.

She had only glimpsed her for a fleeting moment but that had been enough. Enough to see the shape of blood splatters on her cheer uniform and the inhuman pallor of her skin… Now, every sound—every creaking shift of this unfamiliar house, every car driving by, every sudden noise—leaves her jumping, expecting to see something horrific around her as if she’s being tormented by some twisted apparition. She hates it.

She should know better than this, she doesn’t even believe in ghosts! Whatever she saw must just be a trick of the mind. And yet.

With a frustrated groan, Tina pushes her chair out from the table and stands. Sitting around like this is doing her no good, either. It’s like she can’t escape any of this worry for even a second. Or, at least, she can’t when crammed into too-small rooms that have no space for the shape of her grief.

Her loaned keys chime against each other as she snatches them from the countertop. She just needs to get out of the house, walk around and clear her head. Maybe then all this anxiety can start to dissipate and the memory of that hallucination will fade.

Locking the door behind her, Tina wanders off in whatever direction her feet decide to take her. 

The air is clear outside and she hopes that might ease some of the tension that she has been holding, coiled and aching, within her. It’s hard to remember that she doesn’t need to be prepared for something awful to happen, because chances are nothing will.

She wishes she believed that.

Every time she blinks back to awareness, she finds herself on a different stretch of road that she can’t recall making the conscious choice to head to. This walk clearly isn’t doing anything for her. Clear her mind? What a ridiculous idea. How the hell could a place as fucked up as Hawkins bring her any relief, no matter where she might go or what she might do? It’s like the only thing her body knows how to do here anymore is to run on autopilot—to keep her body moving as her thoughts keep on spiralling.

She stills, taking a frustrated breath and at least trying to keep track of where she’s ended up. Her eyes scan her surroundings, taking note of how the efforts to fix up the town haven't reached this far yet, great deep cracks still clear and precariously crisscrossing the roads, splitting the asphalt open to reveal the exposed bowels of the earth.

It’s not something she’s that surprised by. Ahead of her, the road turns off into the trailer park. It makes sense that no one has prioritised fixing up things around here. With the abandoned yellow streamers of police tape, catching and glinting in the golden hour, it’s only too easy to remember what happened here all too recently.

Tina cringes at the sight of them, dancing in the gentle breeze like they don’t know what they mean. Like they don’t know a girl was massacred inside that place. Still, she can’t quite tear her eyes away. For a long, breathless moment, she just stares, caught in the bone-deep wrongness of that place. And then, like ice slithering down her spine, a stomach-churning feeling of horror settles upon her. It takes a hold in her chest before she even realises the cause of it.

Just barely visible from this far away, lingering in the window of the Munson’s trailer, is the shape of a person, standing stock-still. The longer she stares, breaths shallow and fast under the weight of that settling dread, the more the distant shape seems to resemble a girl, its silhouette becoming more convincingly feminine as that agonising second draws out longer and longer, running on forever as her gaze refuses to budge from the sight.

It’s like time has stopped. 

Tina doesn’t realise she’s stepping away until her feet scuff against the uneven ground and she nearly loses her balance. That, at least, is enough to break her out of her trance even if the terror sinking into her stomach refuses to dissipate; she rips her gaze away from the trailer as if burned. It feels like the shape of that figure is scorched into her retina now.

Unwilling to look back at that window, Tina runs.

—

Sitting through the commemorative assembly in the school’s gymnasium is like pulling teeth. Every word jars her, striking through with pained awareness of how overcrowded the room is playing host to two schools and yet not nearly as crowded as it should be.

She feels like an exposed nerve, too vulnerable for this. Her eyes burn with exhaustion and the threat of tears.

At some point she stops listening entirely, too mentally overwhelmed as she tries not to think about anything at all if it will get the ringing in her ears to stop. As she looks down at her hands, the shadows cast by the lines of her palms form a dark echo of the blood and grime she remembers from that day. She had to trim her nails as short as she could to get rid of the last traces of it.

When they’re finally dismissed, the end of the speeches coinciding with the end of the school day, Tina lingers behind at a shout of her name.

Waving over at her from through the dispersing crowd is Vicki. There are strained creases around the corners of her eyes as she weaves her way to meet Tina but she valiantly keeps a smile in place, something more than Tina can say for herself.

“You want to tag along with me? I’m heading to meet Samantha, she snuck some of her parents' booze in all the confusion so we’re going to meet up and let off some steam.”

“Samantha Stone?” Tina clarifies. “Since when do you hang around with Samantha?”

Vicki scoffs. “Since almost everyone else is gone.”

Tina presses her lips together to keep the sudden roll of nausea at that blasé statement at bay. Vicki seems to pick up on it, her expression dimming marginally with her concern, but she chooses not to question it. Instead, she strides on, head held high.

“Anyway, we all have people’s memories to drink to. I cannot deal with the aftermath of that stupid assembly while sober. So, you coming or what?”

Tina takes a steadying breath and follows. After all, it’s not like she’s got any better ideas. 

The crowd that gathers at the edge of the school’s field is a mishmash of different people, most of whom Tina has only ever seen around each other in the classroom or at her own parties. They seem to clump together uncertainly, stilted conversations offered between each other about inane topics that Tina doesn’t have the energy to entertain.

Regardless, she loiters around with the group, accepting whatever drinks get thrust into her hand and taking great gulps to avoid joining any conversations. Listening is more than enough, if you can even class what she’s doing as listening. 

Everyone else, at least, seems on the same page about getting shit-faced. As the hours creep by, shoulders finally start to slump and the group gets rowdier the drunker they get. Bottles are uncapped with grandiose claims of them being in honour of someone who couldn’t be there with them.

Silently, Tina raises her own drink, the faces of her friends flashing in her minds’ eye. 

At some point, Vicki leaves her place at Tina’s side. She looks up to see her, arms interlocked, with Samantha and laughing the way she only does when she’s really tipsy. For a second, Tina considers going over to talk to them, but when she gets up from her spot on the bench her body feels clumsy and uncoordinated. It’s probably better that she stays here, leaning against the seat for support.

There’s another kid who could probably benefit from the same. He’s pale aside from a splotchy flush to his cheeks as he stumbles ungainly out from the tree line.

“Didn’t get lost taking a piss then?” his friend taunts as he wobbles his way back over to their side.

“I think I just saw a ghost,” he says in a daze.

Everyone laughs at that. Tina tries not to think at all.

The sun is creeping towards the horizon and Tina is far too many drinks in when the nausea finally hits her. It feels like a physical thing, crawling its way up her throat.

“Shit,” she gasps, floundering up onto her feet at last and heading blindly into the trees. At least there she might have just a smidge more privacy in her shame.

Her sneakers shuffle over uneven earth, hesitant at first until the need to puke becomes too much and she hurries further along, with all the uncoordinated grace she can muster. Knees meet the ground and an arm braces against a tree as she sucks in deep breaths. They slowly soothe the sickness away. In the end, she’s not sure if it’s better or worse that she didn’t actually vomit.

Head still hazy, she looks up and widens her awareness back to her surroundings.

“You have got to be kidding me,” she says, clambering back to her feet, as she spots them.

It’s a girl. It’s too far away to be sure but she looks to be dressed in a cheer uniform, at least from what Tina can see. The girl is curled around herself, sitting with her back against a tree and her head in her hands.

This could be it. This could be that same hallucination. 

Tina should just go—whether or not this is real, she just needs to leave it alone. If this is just some other student from their drunken group, then her crying is none of Tina’s business. Hell, she’s had to step away for private moments herself and it’s not the sort of thing you want to be walked in on. And if this is Chrissy, then… Well, then that doesn't bode well to think about.

Leaves and twigs crunch underfoot, stealing any stealth she might have managed, as Tina approaches. Not like it matters, the girl doesn’t react at all, as if she can’t even hear her.

The closer she gets the less she can deny it. That strawberry-blonde hair, held back from her face by a green scrunchie; that small stature; the familiar cheer uniform, speckled with somehow still-red blood… She may not have known Chrissy personally, but Tina had certainly seen her around enough to be able to recognise her.

She slows to a stop, looking down at the figure of her. From here she can see that her head isn’t actually in her hands. She’s covering her ears, muttering something under her breath that Tina can’t quite make out without getting closer.

Tina’s mouth opens to speak but she finds it suddenly dry, her throat barren. She clears her throat, the sound perversely loud in the atmosphere around her.

“Chrissy?” she manages finally, voice little more than a whisper.

Chrissy’s head snaps up to look at her, eyes wide and frantic. Her whole body tenses, posture coiling and shifting as if she’s preparing to bolt, and for a moment Tina feels that same need to flee echoed in herself. Neither of them do.

Tearful, blue eyes take in Tina’s face before some of the fight seems to drain from her, slumping infinitesimally against the tree behind her. Tina, though, doesn’t relax and her alcohol slowed mind fumbles to come to grips with the sight before her.

Chrissy, where she sits in the leaves and dirt and forest debris, is so pale. Every so often, the very vision of her seems to flicker in Tina’s sight, as if the girl herself were not fully corporeal… trapped between this world and the next.

“Are… Are you real?” Chrissy breathes, voice small and broken.

The irony of that startles a laugh from Tina before she can help it. 

Shouldn’t she be the one asking that? Chrissy is the dead girl out of the two of them. If either of them should be mistrusting their minds right now, it should be Tina. Because if ghosts aren’t real, as Tina had always believed so strongly, then how can Tina be facing this right now?

“Am I real?” she scoffs, voice bordering on hysterical. “You’re the dead girl here.”

“What?” Chrissy asks in that same crushed tone.

“You’re dead,” Tina tells her, because what else is there to say?

Somehow, Chrissy seems to pale further, as if blood was rushing away from her non-existent face.

“No. N-no. I’m not, I can’t be. What are you talking about?”

“You died. In the Munsons’ trailer.”

“You’re lying. I’m right here—I can’t be—” Chrissy’s voice becomes shrill and stricken with panic before an anger steals over her features. “This isn’t funny. What kind of joke is that? I just—I need to get home.”

Tina scoffs, almost disbelieving, and steadies her swaying against a low-hanging branch.

“I went to your funeral. You’re dead. And I must be going crazy…”

The last part comes out half as a laugh, half as a sigh. It’s a fact she’s resigned herself to uncomfortably quickly, but what other explanation could there be? People don’t just see visions of dead girls sitting around and telling them they can’t be dead if they’re not mad.

Chrissy’s expression glazes over, seeming to be lost in her own mind as a fresh wave of tears give a new shine to those mournful eyes.

“You’re lying,” she says again, but this time she sounds more defeated than accusing, like it makes sense to her even if she doesn’t want it to be true.

Or Tina’s mind thinks Chrissy shouldn’t want it to be true—if Chrissy’s ghost actually was in front of her, that is. But she isn’t, because that would be preposterous. She’s just had too much to drink, and she’s been feeling paranoid, and it’s not as if she’s been able to rest since all of this began.

She doesn’t know why she’s indulging this in the first place. 

Her mouth opens to say something to that effect. Surely she has some smartass comment about it all, but all that remains in her mind are the wispy impressions of the thought as she tries her best to reorient herself. In the end, she gets nothing out before a voice calls out for her. 

Damn, she’s been out here for too long. She’s not even really sure how much time has slipped away without her notice between her leaving the gathering and ending up where she stands now.

Right, that decides it, she’s leaving. This—all of this—is something she doesn’t want any part in. Not ghosts, or hallucinations, or whatever any of this is and certainly not while she’s drunk. There are a thousand more important things she could be worrying about, she chides herself as she turns on her heel and sets her eyes on the way back. In fact, she’s mid-step when a feeble voice calls out for her.

“Please, don’t go. I’m scared to be alone…”

Tina pauses, her heart pounding.

“I need to get back,” she says; to herself, because there is no one else there. 

For a moment, Chrissy is quiet. Tina almost thinks the hallucination has finally dissipated when she speaks up again.

“Will you come back?”

Tina’s heart stutters in her chest. This isn’t real. None of this is real. She turns to look behind her and Chrissy is gone, not even a trace of her to be seen. 

“Tina!”

“Yeah,” Tina replies, the words mumbled to herself, as she finally unsticks her feet from the ground to return to the group. 

---

chapter 2

[turtleblogatlast]

hey!!! this is less of an ask and more of a fic rec tbh 😭 but have you read 'I May be Invisible, but I Still Look Good" by Dandy over on Ao3???? It's after the movie AND Leo-centric and like he gets cursed so his spirit is ripped out of his body. It's like 125k words of wonderful storytelling

OH- but for an actual question, do you have and fic recs?? or any AU's you think people should go check out?

I tried answering this before and it erased my reply orz

ANYWAY YES I HAVE read this and I absolutely love it with every fiber of my being.❤️ 100% one of my top fics to read in this fandom that I even go back to for a reread more than once. The characters are perfectly done and the set up for the story is believable with a fantastic payoff, highly highly highly recommend to anyone who hasn’t read it yet.❤️

As for recs, I’ve always been terrible at giving recs since my memory is very bad especially for ones I haven’t read in a while.😭 Off the top of my head I can recommend (note these are practically entirely Leo-centric since he’s my special guy you understand (the others aren’t forgotten at all though!!!) - and most of these are very very well known so you’ve likely already read them…):

[Note many of these are unfinished and may remain that way - please no one harass the writers for more, let them write at their own pace if they choose to write at all]

- The Neon Void by sugarpastels is absolutely incredible, the dramatic irony of it all as we follow Leo in the state he’s in and see just how broken all the Hamatos are by his “death” is just 👌👌👌 The fact that this places with one of my favorite tropes aka “Leo being in the Prison Dimension longer than canon” is just so good. Genuinely a thoroughly gripping tale that I highly recommend. It’s not complete yet (a lot of this list isn’t) but what is there is so amazing please read (though you most likely have read it already haha)

- little kid with a big death wish and firefight by remrose are another two you’ve likely seen but by god are they worth the read. Firefight isn’t done yet but it and death wish are so amazingly well written and really go into how trauma affects people differently and how ties with family can be tested in traumatic situations. Hard subjects definitely but very maturely done. (Also I misread firefight as firelight for way too long before I realized it-)

- Power Up and Times Five by pickedcarrotsandradish are both unfinished but I can’t care because what we were given is so good that I’m fine with them as they are. Both deal with Leo’s insecurities and bad feelings about himself and, very importantly, the fics go into how these insecurities establish a base for Leo’s very real flaws and how those flaws push him to act the way he does. Very interesting and compelling stuff here!! Power Up especially does really cool things for the boys’ mystic power ups, especially Leo’s, and I loved reading about the ins and outs of what they could do.

- Race Against Life, Death, and the EPF by Cass_Phoenix is just so engaging to read??? Like I love the entire set up for it - it’s feels so fresh and like you’re in Leo’s desperate situation yourself. I was so excited whenever a new chapter came out because the atmosphere was so well done.

- A Mixed Bag by GreatlyBlessed is SHOCKINGLY not Leo-centric for once haha. It’s not completed, but again, like the others above it is so good that I recommend it anyway. This story is actually a crossover between four sets of TMNT (‘87, ‘03, ‘12, and Rise) and the dynamics set up in it are SO fun I love it. Team 2 is my fave because you have literally all my faves on that team how could I not?? I also highly appreciate that everyone gets a chance to shine and that there’s no bashing at all, they’re all just very much in character and it’s refreshing to read ❤️❤️❤️

There’s a LOAD more that I could recommend I’m sure but I don’t remember them off the top of my head at the moment.😭 If I remember I’ll come back and add them in!

(Forgot about AU’s- honestly there’s some that I see and catch up on when I see them but there’s just so many that it’s a bit difficult to keep track of sometimes! I’d have to go around and fully look through many before having a solid answer haha! The ones I do see are always so well done though, I may come back and add them here if I remember 😅)

[makotonaegiunderstander]

something I’ve been thinking abt is how many people think Makoto is immune to despair. I don’t think he is. I think becoming the ultimate Hope was BECAUSE he felt despair. He wouldn’t have fully reached that point without Junko. Makoto becoming such a beacon was his last attempt to avoid completely falling and it wasn’t because he didn’t feel despair, it was because he was too damn stubborn to allow everything to go to waste and he refused to sacrifice his beliefs for someone else’s. His inner monologue tells me he DID experience the same new low the other suvivors did in the final trial, but at the point where he had the choice to give up and die, he looked at the others and he looked at Junko and he couldn’t allow it to happen, not out of self preservation, but because the idea that Junko would have control over their lives made him FURIOUS. and that utter refusal to die kicked in, wether luck or otherwise, and he made the concious effort for one last push while something in him was breaking. He had to be broken in order for the Ultimate Hope to come through so aggressively, bc it could only exist in the face of the Ultimate Despair. He snapped the same way she did, but in the other direction. In what could have been his final moments he chose to embody everything Junko wasn’t, and every single optimistic and luck fueled ideal in him suddenly charged forward and pushed him. It was a combination of the final straw and a choice. Makoto isn’t immune to feeling despair, he’s just too stubborn to fall into it of his own volition. I think that’s why I like that scene in DR3 so much. People were SO SHOCKED Makoto actually fell for the tape, that he actually became despair for a moment. I saw people getting mad or disappointed, saying it was pathetic and Makoto seemed to fall from some sort of pedestal for them. Honestly part of me wonders if that sort of mentality, which clearly people had in universe, affected Makoto a bit. Like he started to see himself as less of a person, subconsciously. Prompting him to take more risks, less self preservation, act way more bold. It seems he has to be reminded a lot not to put himself in danger by his friends, to not do something too reckless. All over the place I would see in regards to that scene either this frivolous ‘oh this was just angst drama with no meaning behind it’ or ‘he can do better than that. he’s so weak’ or ‘come on, there’s no way he’d fall into despair, he’s the Ultimate Hope!’ This kind of mentality, which was kind of ironic considering Ryota was there the entire time saying the same thing and treating Makoto the same way. Like Makoto was superhuman. Like Makoto didn’t feel despair the same way ‘normal people’ did. In a way that was also how Munakata saw Makoto. Makoto stopped being a PERSON to the world when he became Ultimate Hope, he became a concept, a belief system, much the same way Junko ascended beyond herself. But the difference is that treating Makoto that way is the opposite of the reason Makoto became such a representative for hope. He wasn’t doing something no one else could. He was doing something everyone had the chance to, he just… was a little more optimistic, a little more stubborn, a little more ‘gung-ho’ about things. He just took the lead where no one else did, where no one else knew they even COULD in the face of Junko’s unstoppable force. She had overcome the biggest threats and obstacles in the world, what could one person do? And the answer Makoto found was, anything. Everything. It doesn’t all rest on Makoto, he’s just the one that was inspired to try to do what seemed like the impossible. But as evidenced by the change in his friends after that trial, it’s clearly not something only Makoto is capable of. The others pulled out of despair thanks to Makoto, but it was their choice to do so.

“But… this world is so huge, and we’re so small. What can we do…? No, we can probably do anything. Yeah! We can do anything!”

[undertale-fic-librarby]

Any fics with undersail sans

or with Farm sans as a character and not just a love interest?

Howdy, thanks for asking! Here are some fics that might fit what you're looking for!

Firsts and Seconds by skerb (Mature, Incomplete)

Sans (who goes by 'Sticks') has had a good life; he and his brother inherited their grandfather's small farm and things are going well. There's nice people around, no shortage of things to do, and the satisfaction of seeing the land flourish to life every year is a reward itself... ... ...that is, until he stumbles upon something no one ever expects to find in their field one autumn evening while Papyrus is in town. [[General CW: this fic deals with starvation recovery, so please take care as you proceed. 💗]] (rottencrop slowburn recovery fic ♥)

Compost for this Rib Cage Garden by WrittenNovelty (Not Rated, Complete)

The mythos of death would always be associated with melancholy and loneliness. Of loss, coldness, and grief. Mortals would look to it with fear, Gods with begrudging acceptance. Death itself, at least one-half of it, saw himself as the necessary evil all else claimed him to be. The one good thing he’d ever touched in his life, the one person who’d believed in him… Was gone. --- What the world had become when she’d… There was a grunt below, causing Reaper to refocus as the skeleton below cracked his back and peered up at the hazy orange ball the sun had become. Their gazes almost seemed to lock, the soft green held within the mortal’s a painfully familiar color. They seemed to stare right at him. “Uh… Howdy there stranger. Watcha doin’ way up there?” The other called. Reaper’s chest filled with ice as he turned to see who the other could be speaking to. It couldn’t be him. Yet, he was as alone as ever. He twirled back around to see the other had waved his hands around, seemingly just as startled.

Tapping the Font by skerb (Explicit, Complete)

“Say,” Sans murmurs, his voice roughed out. “Might’ve forgot to ask… Hey’tap. It’s just a spice, right..?” It’s not like Axe had been hiding it. It’s right in the name. “Heat tap,” he corrects, careful to pronounce both T’s this time. “Brings heat.” Sans blinks at the simplicity of his answer, then finally grins. “Wow,” he snickers almost amicably. “That’s one way to do it.” Axe returns his grin. “Said you could handle it.” -- Wherein a miscommunication results in Axe (enthusiastically) weathering Sticks's heat. :)

Two And A Calf Men by silverryu25 (General Audiences, Complete)

Sans and Papyrus bought a farm when they arrived on the surface but despite Papy’s hopes it didn’t help Sans feel better. Could a “temporary” addition to their little family help both brothers heal and live happier lives?

RealAgeAU by @ancientschampionau (Not Rated, Incomplete)

A series of drabbles covering the events of Nightmare being reverted to his uncorrupted form while the gang tries to raise him.

[six-demon-bag]

this was possibly the darkest shot in the entire extremely dark movie but i couldnt resist. also can someone turn of the ideas fountain i dont have enough time to write all of these fics about schmidty and i will die trying

[malaierba]

Crying over Kinniku and Iromatsu, cry with me @ the "Karamatsu dies and becomes a ghost and does his best to pretend he's still alive" fic (linked as a source)