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lorelune · 7 months ago

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O4O: part i

|| jing yuan x reader || E/18+ || omega for omega, soft smut || wc: 10.3k || ao3 ||

Jing Yuan has been content riding out his heats alone for centuries. You, despite being another omega, are happy to lend a hand if Jing Yuan will have you.

minors, antis and ageless blogs dni

💦🎀 this piece is apart of SPRING FEVER: an omegaverse collab! 🎀💦

part i (here) — part ii — part iii (coming soon!)

notes: hello omega jing yuan omega jing yuan save me... the way omega jy has haunted me for months. MONTHS. this fic is incredibly indulgent soft, needy smut with non-traditional a/b/o dynamics. THANK YOU to the lovely @owlespresso for beta reading!! please read the tags and enjoy!! <3

CW: a/b/o dynamics, omega jing yuan (with afab and amab anatomy), omega reader (afab anatomy), past yingxing/jing yuan/dan feng, bottom jing yuan flavors (though reader does not do any penetration), use of toys, worldbuilding around omegaverse, lots of biting, milfy jing yuan, mommy kink without the word mommy (at least not in this part 👀💗!!),

Jing Yuan has not shared his heat with anyone in a very, very long time. Centuries, most certainly. Jing Yuan doesn’t find it very useful to keep track of that length of time— he finds it cumbersome if anything. There’s no use holding onto a past that only forces him to redigest pain.

Jing Yuan rarely has heats. He keeps a diligent schedule of medication and only has to go through them once every decade or so. Occasionally less, if the Luofu is passing a particular star system or comet field. His heats are always cumbersome. He can conceal his omegan sensibilities often, but it is more difficult prior to a heat.

Preheat is a different beast.

When Jing Yuan sequesters himself in his estate for the better part of a week, anyone who knows he’s even there assumes it is to go through a rut. A week is a standard amount of time to take off for a rut and is expected. However, a heat has a standard time off of about two and a half weeks. Much longer to accommodate preheat and nesting needs.

Jing Yuan rarely indulges his own.

The Luofu, at large, assumes he is an alpha. This is manufactured, however only partially. Generally, the citizens of the Luofu assume, given that he is the General and he has a larger, broad-shouldered stature, that he is an Alpha through and through. He always wears scent patches in public, which is normal for both omegas and alphas. Betas, too, occasionally. Depending on the subtype. The Charioteers know that he is an omega, but they are committed to some amount of discretion and guard the information as a secret. Lady Fu, an alpha, will occasionally scold him for being so secretive. Like he harbors some sort of self-hatred that he is an omega.

It is simply more convenient for him to be seen as an alpha. Jing Yuan doesn’t wish to disturb this perception.

And therefore, it is much easier to wait as long as possible between heats and bear them alone. Whatever instincts he has can be satiated with toys and a half-decent nest. Jing Yuan has always considered this enough. ‘Enough’.

(It’s not sating. Jing Yuan cannot lie to himself about this. He remembers laying with Yingxing, and how the alpha made him feel more full and content than Jing Yuan had ever thought possible during a heat. Or ever, truthfully. He remembers how calming Dan Feng’s presence had been— grounding and reassuring, too. Jing Yuan was fucked, filled and protected. An omega’s dream.)

Jing Yuan... copes with what he has. A large, plush bed with a downy mattress, a few donated, alpha-scented garments, and a collection of inflatable, knotting toys. He always leaves his heat with lingering cramps, a brutalized hole, and a yearning that takes a few weeks to quiet itself.

It is natural that he craves his mates. Even if they are long dead (not dead. Not really. Not the same as they once were, anyway.)

And certainly, never to be his again. The mating mark on his neck has long faded.

Jing Yuan tracks his heat so such yearning can be anticipated and planned for. He knows when his heat is approaching, down to the specific day it will occur. He titrates off his suppressants carefully, and maps out a portion of time off for himself a year or so in advance.

Which is why it is very odd that he starts exhibiting preheat symptoms in the middle of the day, a random day, during a tactical meeting.

Even if he had been titrating down his dose in anticipation for a planned heat in a few months time, it is far, far too early to begin feeling symptoms. The familiar itchiness prickling under his skin is entirely unexpected. Jing Yuan has to put a particularly large amount of effort to get through this unnecessary meeting without letting a single symptom slip. He can only adjust in his seat so many times before it is improper, or juggle the cradle of his jaw from one hand to the other before it is clear something is wrong.

If any of the Charioteers and their advisers notice anything amiss with him, they say nothing. The only one who looks off-put is Fu Xuan. She’s a spitfire alpha herself, and perhaps she’s keen enough to notice that Jing Yuan is beginning to feel... unwell. Though he is masking his scent as he always does, he imagines that the flush in his cheeks is becoming increasingly obvious.

Fu Xuan gives Jing Yuan a wary look as the meeting is dismissed.

“General,” She says curtly. “Are you well?”

“I’m fine,” He gives her a rich laugh as he stands, muffling a groan as his stiff back and knees ache. He’d sat for too long. He feels light-headed as he rights himself and Fu Xuan glares at him.

“I doubt that,” Fu Xuan huffs. “I will not interrogate you in public, nor do I think you would give me an honest answer even if I did—”

“So little trust in me, Master Diviner—”

“ However, I will urge you to go home. ” She takes a step closer and sniffs the air. It’s just the two of them in the meeting room now, the rest of the parties in attendance having filtered out. Subtly and without fanfare, she takes his hand in her own, and presses her wrist to his. Jing Yuan keeps an easy grin on his face but can’t help the way he tenses his fingers, flexing them at the contact. “Do you need an escort?”

“Is Lady Fu worrying for me? How kind.”

“I’m— not, ” Fu Xuan huffs now and more roughly smears their wrists together. The scent gland she is almost abusing is swollen and hot to the touch. It takes all of his composure not to squirm with her treatment. “I’m no fool. If you have a heat starting, you should be comfortable at home, not in a war room.”

“Master Diviner, you think I’m an omega?” Jing Yuan says with a smile. He knows she is already privy to this, but he can’t resist teasing her a bit.

“You are insufferable. Even in this state. Go home. I will take you there myself.”

“I’m afraid I can’t return home just yet,” He hums. He imagines he has a few hours before proper pre-heat sets in. “I have a lunch date that I cannot miss.”

“You— a lunch date?”

“Yes, of course. It’s a scheduled event, dear Diviner.”

“Do not patronize me.”

Jing Yuan laughs as she fumes. He has the urge to ruffle her hair, but thinks better of it. The complicated updo would surely be ruffled, and Jing Yuan is already getting an earful as it is.

“I would never.”

Fu Xuan yanks her arm away with a growl. She wears some type of masking perfume, she always has, but with her frustration swirling, a bit of her actual scent peaks through. It’s light on the back of his tongue, floral almost. Nearly inedible, but the kind of scent Jing Yuan that makes him nostalgic—

(For a master with a scent like frost-covered roses, and a packmate with a scent filled with springtime lilac blossoms in fat clusters.)

“If this lunch is really so necessary, may I escort you there at least? Or will your alpha be meeting you here?”

“They’re not an alpha.” Jing Yuan hums. His stomach feels warm regardless. “And I’ll be just fine getting there myself.”

Fu Xuan looks at him, questioningly. Her lips open, then close once more. There are questions she clearly has. And for all her brashness and hot-blooded fervor, she understands decorum better than most. She pries out of care and her good intentions, and Jing Yuan can respect that if nothing else.

“I’ll concede,” Fu Xuan sighs. “ However, please let me know if there’s anything else you need. You have my number.”

“Noted.” Jing Yuan rises, and feels the heat clouding his head sink lower in his body. He’s being engulfed.

Fu Xuan deadpans, “General—”

“Have a good rest of your day, Master Diviner,” He calls with a light laugh, slipping away before Fu Xuan can give him any further grief.

...

As the Arbiter General of the Luofu, Jing Yuan knows its streets and secrets very well. There’s more than one way to arrive at his favored terrace garden without being seen or smelt by the public. It is helpful that this path is lined near an aqueduct stream, surrounded by lush greenery and clumps of fragrant azure asters. This path is tucked away, straddling an external tunnel of the Luofu’s inner tunnels. Really, only the Calibrators aboard the ship use it, and as there are only a few and they tend to keep to their delve, Jing Yuan has very little fear walking this way at his own leisure.

He is glad you tend to take your lunch dates in the privacy of this particular garden, under the gazebo and nestled atop its many silken blankets and pillows. A conventional restaurant in this state would be doable, but unideal.

Jing Yuan can smell you as he approaches. It makes him pause, just outside the gate. His hands hovers over his jade abacus as he opens his mouth to taste you in the back of his mouth.

(Warm, a familiar scent that he associates with the rare indulgence of relaxation. It’s not overly sweet or ripe, but balanced and full-bodied. Not quite floral or fruity, and not deep enough to be akin to an aged black tea. Perhaps like the roll of a hearth or the beeswax of a lit candle.)

He’s sighs. It calms him instantly.

Even if you aren’t an alpha, you are familiar, as is the current setting.

You’re sitting at a low table in the shade of the gazebo. There are several plates of cheeses, cut fruits, salted meats, and nuts laid out. You’re ladling sticky honey into a small dish as he enters, and look up at the sound of the gate closing.

You smile when you see him.

“General,” You smile. “I apologize, I started setting up lunch without you. Everything should still be chilled.”

“No need to be sorry,” he laughs gently, brushing a hand against your shoulder before rounding the table, and taking a seat across from you. “I could never complain about your diligence. You have chosen quite the spread today, haven’t you?”

You flush with a nod, and gesture down to the table, “The markets were lovely today, I had to splurge. You’ll have to let me know what you think.”

“Only if you do the same.”

“I-I can do that,” You smile at him softly.

Despite your familiarity, you still regard him with some amount of anxiety. Jing Yuan has long since placed this has less to do with his status as General, and more than likely due to a deepened amount of affection that Jing Yuan... entertains. Enjoys. Thrives off of, even. He perhaps returns it, though he hasn’t told you that explicitly.

Besides, you believe him to be an alpha. He’s sure that, if you did know his secondary gender, such affections would fade quickly. The allure of what he could provide as an alpha is quite different from what he can provide as an omega.

Jing Yuan takes a sip of sparkling juice, and as he lowers the thin-necked glass, you look at him strangely. A crease knits itself between your brows.

“Did I get some on my face?” Jing Yuan chuckles and wipes at the corners of his mouth with his thumb.

“No... you just,” You stumble with your words, hands flexing in your lap. “Are... are you alright? Your cheeks look quite warm, and you’re sweating around your hairline.”

You always have been keen to bodies other than your own. It’s not the most common trait.

“... Am I?” Jing Yuan could choose to lie at this moment. It would be easy to say he was using a new brand of suppressants, or blame it on a stressful day. However, he doesn't like lying to you, only twisting the truth when entirely necessary. “I do suppose I’m at that point in my cycle.”

“Oh!” You startle and sit up more straight. You push a plate at him. “Pre-rut? You should eat, then. You’ll need your strength. Do— do you have someone I can call? I don’t mind.”

Your worry is cute.

Jing Yuan can’t help thinking about it. You are an omega full of so much care and urge to help. Jing Yuan has seen it and experienced it many times, and has also seen how it has gotten you into unfortunate situations. You have a trusting mind and spirit, and more than once, it has been used against you.

Jing Yuan likes keeping you close, so he can look after you, even if it’s from a distance.

He stares down at the plate. There’s a pile of glistening orange grapes, a few roses of sliced, cured meats, a chunk of honeycomb, and buttery looking crackers. It does look delicious, however Jing Yuan has always struggled to eat in his pre-heat. When he looks up at you to decline, your expression looks even more worried, almost sour.

Before he can speak, you are. Petal-soft lips lips downturned. “Are you... not in pre-rut, General?”

He deflates, slightly. He is old— and. He does not wish to steer you away from what is a correct assumption. You are his most trusted companion.

“I am not,” He says softly, and picks up one of the grapes. He squeezes. The skin is taut and tight. “And, please call me Jing Yuan. Formalities can be dropped, yes?”

“I— yes, of course.” You look from his plate to him. “So, you’re... pre-heat?”

“I am, yes.”

“Oh!” You immediately heap his plate with several other kinds of fruit, and grab a clean glass and pour ice water from a pitcher into it. “I apologize— for. Making such an assumption.”

“No need to apologize.” He soothes and lays a hand over yours. “I’m aware of what the vast majority of the Luofu assumes my secondary gender to be. It does not bother me. If it did, I would have corrected the greater public long ago. I apologize for not telling you directly until now.”

“It’s— okay,” you reply. Perhaps a bit hurt. “I never asked. I just— I just thought. Wrong.”

(Please be kinder to yourself, he thinks. It hurts to see you saddened on my account.)

“Nonsense,” he laughs and gracefully takes the water you offer. He downs the glass down his parched throat. He— hadn’t realized how thirsty he was. “No harm done. If anything, I’m grateful that you now know.”

(Regardless of how it could change your feelings toward him.)

Jing Yuan has tempered heartbreak for millenia. Another one— is not nothing, but it is manageable. Perhaps not during preheat, but he still has time to mourn.

“I’m glad too,” you tell him, and squeeze back his hand. You only scent him sometimes, always so shy about it, but now you firmly rub the scent gland in your wrist against his. His aches, and the sensation and exchange of pheromones nearly makes him wheeze. He straightens his spine.

“Was that—?” You almost pull away.

“No, it’s very welcome.”

You stare at him, intent and soft, before settling. Tentatively, you rub at the gland in gentle circles.

“You should eat,” you say after a moment. “Do you have an alpha I can call? Or— um, anything you need me to pick up for you?”

“I am fine.” Jing Yuan will text Qingzu for the essentials, rather than troubling you. “I’ll finish lunch with you, and then see myself home.”

“... No alpha to pick you up?”

“None to speak of, no.” Jing Yuan manages a smile.

(It has been— centuries since Jing Yuan had an alpha to care for and stake a claim on him. The notion of finding another has been put out of his mind since he himself had to confine Dan Feng to the Shackling Prison and exile the man Yingxing became. Even after meeting them as they are today, Jing Yuan knows they are no longer his mates.)

“Oh.”

Every one of your emotions is so clearly on your face. You look so sad for him and you squeeze his hand. He has half a mind to pull away, and remind you that he does not need your worry. However, he is in pre-heat, and by Lan, he is craving worry.

“And... heatmates?” You ask. “I don’t want to pry, but it’s hard to spend a heat alone.”

“Once again, none.” Jing Yuan replies without hesitating. The silence that follows is poignant as you study him.

“I see.” You frown again, clearly thinking. Jing Yuan can see the thoughts turning around just behind your eyes. You pile on even more fruits to his plate. “Eat, eat. You need it.”

“This much fruit will give me a stomach ache, I fear.”

“Some of it, at least!” You huff at him. “For me, please?”

Jing Yuan meets your gaze, easy and soft. There’s no threat, only the heat that matches your scent and the feel that radiates in his chest.

(You are not his alpha. You are something entirely different— something that he wants so badly to hold.)

“For you.”

...

By the end of lunch (in which, Jing Yuan does manage to eat a decent amount of the fruit you’d put on his plate), Jing Yuan’s pre-heat has begun to simmer into a more uncomfortable territory. He desperately wants to shed his uniform and armor, and slip into a robe and no bottoms. He hasn’t begun to slick yet, but he will surely start to by sundown.

Jing Yuan stands after the meal, stretching. It’s proper afternoon now, and the birds of the garden chirp eveningsong.

“Jing Yuan?” You ask as he stretches his arms above his head. His name sounds lovely in your mouth.

He hums, “Yes?”

“Do you want a heatmate?” You ask quietly.

He looks at you.

You’re fiercely meeting his gaze, even though you’re clearly struggling to. Your bottom lip is tucked between your teeth, and you’re fighting a frown from the crinkles on your forehead. Regardless, you stand your ground and ask a question that is surely difficult to broach, especially so directly.

“I—I am offering.” You stammer. “To clarify.”

“To be my heatmate?”

“Yes— I hate to think of you suffering alone, Jing Yuan. If I can be by your side to ease it, if only a little, I would like to be.”

“That is very brave of you to ask.” He smiles with a tilt of his head. “And bold.”

“I— I’m being honest.” You almost whine. It’s so cute. “Is that a no?”

“No, not at all.” Jing Yuan replies. “However, I wouldn’t want you to help solely for my benefit. If you wish to enter my nest exclusively to be an aid, and not out of... personal wants, I would feel guilty.”

“It’s— it’s personal wants too.”

“... Is it now?”

“Yes. Absolutely.”

“Even though I’m not an alpha, as you thought?”

“Yes.”

“You’re certain.”

“ Yes, Jing Yuan.”

“I cannot give you a knot—”

“I do not need one!” You break, much to Jing Yuan’s amusement. “I am happy to be by your side, regardless of that! If anything, I’m more than happy to share a nest with you without the assurance of a limp and a potential pup.”

Jing Yuan smiles, almost unrestrained, and your cheeks heat deliciously.

You stammer, and poke at his chest, “You��re teasing me—!”

“I apologize, you must forgive me—”

“ Rude—!”

Your bury your face in his chest and nuzzle there. It’s— clearly a self soothing action, one you realize a moment too late isn’t quite proper. You stiffen, beginning to draw away, before Jing Yuan catches you by your scruff and holds you there.

“You’re alright,” He holds a wide palm there. “I apologize for teasing you. I mean so warmly.”

“... Scoundrel.” The sound muffles into his chest.

“Am I?”

You peer up at him, so warm in the cheeks and eyes... almost watery. Something in his chest feels sticky and molten.

“ Yes—” You dare to meet his eyes again. “But, one I’m very fond of.”

Jing Yuan steels himself.

You are an omega. It is not your pheromones addling his mind. There is clarity in the attraction and affection he has for you, one not influenced by the urge to be knotted and bred. Though, Jing Yuan wants that, maybe part of him needs it. There is a trunk full of toys and implements he has tucked away that will sate the urge. The feelings that he carries for you will not so easily be placated.

“I would like it very much if you were to share my heat with me,” He speaks softly, just for the two of you to hear. Not even the garden birds will know his words. “If you are still offering.”

“Yes,” You say quickly, tentatively wrapping your arms around his waist. “Yes.”

He chuckles, easy and low, and presses his nose into your hair. Perhaps it’s pre-heat, making him sentimental and mushy. He usually hides out and bears it alone in his comfiest nest so these feelings typically do not get expressed in any other way other than delirious, anguished cries while a knotting toy takes the edge off.

Jing Yuan finds these are nice to indulge, as your scent envelopes him.

...

“I lied earlier,” Jing Yuan says as you enter the threshold of his estate. “I apologize sincerely.”

“Oh?” You ask with a tilt of your head, accepting a pair of house slippers eagerly. “... What about?”

“I am in pre-heat unexpectedly. Though I have been tapering suppressants for an anticipated heat, it has come far earlier than planned . Things are... not as I would like them. You’ll need to excuse me for a few moments.”

Jing Yuan, like any omega, is particular about his home and nest, especially around his heat. He knows his home and inner chambers are not to his liking and he’ll need to prepare them. Even if you aren’t an alpha entering his nest, you are a guest and companion he is very fond of. You deserve only the best.

“Of course, whatever you need,” you assure him. “Do you need me to grab anything while you do so? I don’t mind running to the market—”

Jing Yuan turns on his heel, grabbing your arm firmly, “You’re not leaving.”

“O-Oh.”

Your eyes widen, and heat rises in your cheeks. Your throat bobs as you swallow and nod. Jing Yuan— were he not in pre-heat, would perhaps be a bit embarrassed by his brazeness. However, now? The idea of you leaving his home sends him reeling. You cannot leave— not until you smell like him and his nest. Not until— not until this is over.

“I sent a request to Qingzu to fetch us a few things during the walk over. She’ll be here shortly. I do, however, have a bowl of fruit that could be cut up while I get myself sorted. How does that sound?”

You nod eagerly, happy to follow instruction. Jing Yuan knows this about you and enjoys it thoroughly.

He sets you up in the kitchen with a bowl of sunsiettas, a box of meldberries, and a few bunches of perfectly ripe, round kaishen grapes. Jing Yuan leaves you to the task, which he can already tell you will do dutifully. You thrive off of praise and direction. It’s a dangerous trait of an omega to carry, even more terrifying to hold openly as you do. Jing Yuan knows it has burned you before.

However, he intends to indulge you well and kindly, as it pleases him very much.

His mind, far-too warm and itchy, yearns to spin fantasies as he locks himself in his room with a shake of his head.

He must keep it together. Just for awhile longer. His bed is— not a nest. Not the nest he wants (needs) it to be. His duvet, thick and luxurious as it is, needs a fluffing and a fresh scenting. His pillows are not arranged to his liking, and he needs to poke through his linen closet and add some extra layers as well. He needs to make sure there’s lube nearby with clean toys. Water out. His phone charged and volume on— (though, he already sent a message to Qingzu stating his heat has hit and he’ll be out for at least a week. ‘Defer to Diviner Fu :3’ , which is Jing Yuan’s payment to Lady Fu for the list of errands he had sent her.)

Jing Yuan shakes his head with a laugh. The little alpha will certainly be pleased when she hear she’ll get to play General for a while.

Pre-heat drives him forward. He sheds his many layers (without aid, which is objectively a headache and he regrets not asking you for assistance initially. However, Jing Yuan is fairly certain that if he were to be fully bare around you, regardless of his pre- heat or not, he may jump you and drag you into his nest—)

Pre-heat is also making him somewhat irrational.

He throws on his favored robe, a silken, cream-colored garment with delicate gold and red embroidery around the hems. The sleeves drape at his wrists and a sash ties it snugly around his waist. The itch that’s been rolling around just under his skin feels duller, with the less restrictive garment. The fabric crosses over his chest in a way that is... revealing. Probably too revealing, under any other circumstance, especially given that you have never seen him in anything less than his daily regalia.

The thought of looking so indecent around you has its allure to it. One that Jing Yuan lets himself entertain with a smitten smile as he works.

He is attracted to you, surely. This he knows and has known.

Jing Yuan acknowledges that this is both emotional and physical. You are dear to him, truly. In a way that is unique to any of the connections, he holds in the present. Your presence is one he thoroughly enjoys, and, more than once, (many times), has craved during his late-evening ruminations in his courtyard. He— has thought about inviting you over, if for nothing else than a chat in the moonlight and tea or wine to your preference, however—

He has always stopped himself.

Yearning, he will allow in the ways he has learned to manage it over the centuries. Small doses of longing that can be enjoyed and swallowed down, without festering. Being brazen with his wants and feelings is... slipperier. Especially concerning you, as you are dear to him, and Jing Yuan, for better or for worse, would like to share space with you for as long as he can manage.

This attraction is regardless of secondary gender.

Jing Yuan has not cared about secondary gender for a great while (since he shared a bed with a short-lived alpha and one of Long’s Scions, who, like all Vidyadhara, did not have a secondary gender at all.)

Your presentation as an omega was never a deterrent to him. If anything, it was something of a comfort. Jing Yuan was claimed long ago, and he knows that no alpha’s claim will feel the same as Yingxing’s and he wouldn’t want anyone, especially you, to attempt to emulate it. The ownership of a claim was not something he sought. Jing Yuan has had his heart broken enough for this lifetime. He is sure you could rend his heart asunder, however it would not be in the way of losing a mate that he is biologically tied to.

Statistically, Jing Yuan is lucky that such a loss did not cause him to become Mara struck five hundred years ago.

He is very content with whatever your relationship could become. If nothing else, the prospect of it allures him. Especially now that you know his presentation and clearly seem undeterred yourself. If— if anything. Your scent calmed and cooled when he’d told you on the terraces.

Another thing that Jing Yuan will have to parse when he isn’t so wet that he’s leaving puddles in his wake.

For now, Jing Yuan’s nest is satisfactory aside from a few personal items.

Now, all it’s missing is you.

...

Jing Yuan does not find you in the kitchen, but rather the foyer, wishing Qingzu a goodbye with a wave and shout.

Jing Yuan must—

(Temper his instincts because you are far too close to the door and you need to be in his nest and his teeth need to be in you and his scent on you—)

“Jing Yuan,” you say to him warmly, with a smile. There are a few canvas bags on your arms. “How are you feeling—?”

Jing Yuan can’t stop himself from dragging you away from the tall set of doors and back to the kitchen. You squawk at his firmness, but don’t reject his touch. He helps you heft the bags onto a low table. His own arms shake, with both the strain and his own heat-induced weakness.

“It’s really progressing, huh?” You tentatively raise a hand, and place it on his forearm to stroke there.

Jing Yuan practically purrs when you rub over the silken fabric, “It is. Quickly. However, my nest and appropriate supplies are ready. Did Qingzu deliver all that I asked?”

“It seems so.”

There are— three more bottles of lube. A few pearly-looking medicine pills, a specialty item from the Alchemy Commission. Several stacks of ready-made meals and electrolyte powder. There are several vials of milky-looking oils he had her grab for more scandalous purposes as Jing Yuan would like to avoid any type of friction abrasion. Lastly, there are few unmarked boxes with new toys.

“You’re so well-prepared.” Your eyes are wide as you take stock of the haul. Jing Yuan bundles things into a basket and ushers you to his nest.

“I have gone through many heats,” he chuckles. “I have learned the best tricks.”

“I-I can see.”

As you enter his bedroom, you stare at his nest with wide eyes. You jump when Jing Yuan locks the door.

“... Is that alright?” Jing Yuan asks.

“Yes, yes, of course. I just—” You swallow. “I haven’t ever helped another omega through a heat. If you have any pointers or preferences, let me know while you’re still in your full mind, please? I’d like to make this as comfortable for you as possible.”

Jing Yuan thinks for a moment. With a tilt of his head, he rests his hands on your shoulders. Your scent is spiced, a bit nervous, but also undeniably aroused. Your gaze darts down to his exposed collarbones and chest, then quickly back up to his eyes. Heat rises fiercely in your cheeks.

“Your presence will be helpful in and of itself,” he assures you with a squeeze. Carefully, he hooks his thumbs on your outer garment and pulls it down, undoing buttons and ties along the way. Your lips part, breath hot. “I’ll guide you as I need. My heats tend to be mild, though they do last a full week. There will be lulls, which I tend to be quite worn out during. I’ll need your assistance more than anything.”

You nod, taking in his response.

Jing Yuan— he’s holding it together. Slick is beginning to drip down his inner thighs and there’s an ache in his core that feels heavier and hotter by the minute. However, he does want to do this part slowly. He prides himself on his patience. Piece by piece, he takes off your day clothes and tosses them into his nest. Without them, your scent is stronger. Your neck is bare from any topical or adhesive blockers.

“During the rest of it though?” You ask, softly. “When you’re in the throes of it.”

Jing Yuan hums, letting a shaking hand rest on the curve of your waist, “I’m not certain. It’s been quite some time since I’ve shared a heat with anyone.”

“... Really?”

“Yes.” Jing Yuan presses his lips to your forehead without thinking. The heat of it, of you, sinks into his own. He feels like he’s going to burn up. “Does that surprise you?”

“Yes.” You answer, and push yourself closer to his neck. Your lips part to taste his scent on the back of your tongue. “You are a catch. I know you have quite the lineup of suitors... I just assumed.“

“You also assumed I was an alpha.”

“The General is a skillful liar.”

Jing Yuan clicks his tongue, sliding a hand below your last garments. Satin, lacey things that are almost sheer. Thin. He could tear them easily, but doesn’t. His touch lingers.

“ Jing Yuan,” he reminds you. You stammer before pitching into him. He carefully walks the two of you backwards. His legs are close to giving out. “And I’d like to think of it as a skillful withholding of unnecessary information.”

“ Jing Yuan is very good with his words,” You murmur into the soft skin of his neck, lingering around one of the scent glands there. They ache, sore and unstimulated.

So carefully, you stretch up on your tiptoes to nose at one of them. Your scents bloom together and his eyes almost roll back into his head at the meld of it, the relief and rush of connection.

It’s the last push Jing Yuan needs before dragging you into his nest with a stifled moan. Coherency is shattered and all he can do is crave, crave, crave.

...

You are a good heatmate.

Astoundingly good. Attentive, kind, and so soft. It’s a relief to Jing Yuan, who’s heat-addled mind is so used to loneliness and cold. You do not have the scent or knot of an alpha, but you’re more than enough. It’s presence and comfort in a way Jing Yuan so, so missed. It’s enough in a different way— and that difference is good.

(You are not Yingxing or Dan Feng, and Jing Yuan is grateful that you aren’t.)

Jing Yuan finds himself on his back, with you wrapped around him. You let him pillow his cheek against your collarbone. His nose presses against your scent gland, and he pants against it with an open mouth and spit slicked lips. Your hand lays over his chest, cupping his breast while gently thumbing over his nipple. He’s so swollen there, aching.

He cries out as you pinch, as if it could relieve any of the pressure roiling around under his skin.

You curl closer into him with your lips against his temple. “Does that feel good?”

He can only keen and hope you understand that it’s a plea for more.

You must because a moment later you’re squeezing with your entire hand. It’s— too big of a handful for you. Your fingers are soft and your touch gentle. The visual of the plump flesh of his chest bulging out from between your fingers rewires Jing Yuan’s brain for a craving he never knew possible. A rush of slick gushes from his cunt and— it’s so much. He lurches into your neck, licking blindly at your scent gland. Vaguely, he notices you stiffen and your scent grows a little sharper.

It’s worry. Jing Yuan can’t have that.

With every ounce of his strength, Jing Yuan rolls you below him, and sits on your hips. You let him, so pliant and agreeable, and lay below him. Jing Yuan’s breath catches and drool slips to the corners of his mouth.

You are beautiful. You look debauched, and you’re not the one in heat. You’re flushed and damp with sweat, just as he is. The robe he’d draped you in is mostly open, revealing supple skin and your last bastion of modesty in the form of a cute pair of panties that Jing Yuan will fantasize about later.

You look up at him in awe, lust-hazed just like him. There’s little composure to be had as your fists ball up in the sheets around his thighs. Your gaze goes glassy as you look from his face down to where he’s seated atop you and back again.

“No teeth,” he assures you. It is the last coherent thought he has, if only to provide your some comfort.

You look up at him sweetly and nod, grabbing the plump flesh above his hips. “No teeth.”

(A claim wouldn’t take, anyway. Not really. Omega-to-omega pairings lack the necessary pheromones to stake a claim on each other. The most it would do would indicate that whoever has been bitten is a submissive-leaning packmate. Which— Jing Yuan actually would not mind biting you. He would like his teeth in your neck if you would ever allow him.)

He groans at the thought, lowering his head as a silver mane of hair spills around his face.

Jing Yuan is drenched and hard, leaking from the tip of his cock and seam of his cunt. It’s— filthy. You’re soaked too, with a mix of him and undoubtedly yourself too, though Jing Yuan can’t scent it over the smell of his own heat. It’s regrettable as he is sure the mix of you must be divine. Heavenly.

He wants it in his mouth.

Jing Yuan slinks down your body, licking and sucking at patches of your skin. You try to bat him off, haul him up and away from your own leaking sex, but he resists. He needs a taste or he’ll die, probably. His heat can be quelled in a number of ways, he presumes.

With his face buried in your cunt, surrounded by your scent, the ache for a knot is dulled. When you cry out on his tongue, it is almost deafened.

Jing Yuan drinks you up— he should pay more mind to your clit, probably, if he wants to get you off properly. However, he is so immensely distracted by your entrance and the essence of you that’s leaking out. There’s a rapidly widening damp spot beneath your ass. A steady flow that Jing Yuan needs in him.

He seals his mouth over your cunt, and prods his tongue inside of you. He presses so close, suffocating with his nose tight to your clit, to lap at your insides.

You— you wail above him. Your hands bury in his increasingly tangled mess of hair for any sort of leverage. Jing Yuan doesn’t let up; he doesn’t think he can. Your tone crashes into one that’s softer, more airy, begging for more. For less. Jing Yuan can’t entirely tell. He isn’t sure he cares, truthfully. All he knows is that your thighs tighten around his head with each suck and slurp.

The sound of it is heavenly.

Your thighs press around his face. Flush to his cheeks are the scent glands in the apex of your inner thighs. Not everyone has them, as they’re something of a recessive trait among all secondary genders. The scent that comes off them is your own, however muskier and deeper. It sticks to the inside of his nose and pours down his throat like a nectar. You mewl when he breaks away to lap at one, coaxing out more of the scent. He gluts himself on it.

He needs, he needs, he needs.

“Jing Yuan,” you pant above him, propping yourself up with one arm while the other blindly reaches among his nest. “Do you need it? Knot?”

He—

(He needs to be filled. He isn’t picky if that feeling is quenched with his cunt, ass, throat, or nose. The scent of you is almost enough, even if he clenches down on nothing and feels hollow in his belly. The sensations are so dull with you nearby. He feels heat incensed, but in a way that craves closeness with you and not the manic pursuit of a knot.)

It’s refreshing. Jing Yuan regrets not propositioning you for this treatment sooner.

“Are you offering?” Jing Yuan purrs. He places his thumbs over the scent glands of your inner thighs and presses down on the swell of them, just under your skin.

Your back bends off the bed and you throw your hand over your mouth. Teary eyes meet him and you nod. From the folds of the nest, you pull forth a knotting toy with a shaking grip.

It’s beautiful for a toy. It’s a model that Jing Yuan had seen in a few high-end adverts on the few social medias he moonlighted on. It’s a flesh-like plastic cock, with an inflatable knot at the base. A little, wired remote drags along the blankets of his nest as you hold the phallus out to him. The plastic of the toy is a light gold, cut with veins of blue. It looks otherworldly and unreal. Jing Yuan has never cared for much realism with his toys, though this one is human enough.

He makes a mental note to get Qingzu a bouquet for purchasing it for him on such short notice.

The head of it feels cool against his cunt. It’s a welcome sensation as it feels like his body is burning up from the insight. He lays over you, wrestling you a bit to be flat below him, with his thighs caging yours. He growls when you try to grab the toy from his hands to assist.

It makes you pause.

Your soft palms cup his cheeks, “Do you not want me to help?”

“The angle—” The angle won’t be right, Jing Yuan wants to say. His words feel lost in his throat as he slowly begins to push inside himself. He gasps and tries to duck into your neck, to like and suck at the gland there and feast on your scent.

“I can try—?”

“ No.”

Jing Yuan wants you just like this. In his nest, smelling like him and arousal and safety. The toy that’s sliding into his cunt is mostly irrelevant, as is the twitch of his cock as he slowly and methodically fucks the toy into himself. Little by little, he bullies it into his underused hole. The stretch is— is not bad. It would be far more uncomfortable if he weren’t in heat and pouring slick.

You ask more quietly, just as he bottoms out. You still haven’t let go of his face. “Are you sure?”

He is, but he can’t find the words to say so. Instead, he nods and tucks himself closer to you. You pet down the back of his neck and push on his scent glands. They ache with his heat. The pressure and direct contact makes him grunt as he adjusts to the toy in his cunt.

You hush him and nuzzle in his cheeks, “You’re doing so well. So good, Jing Yuan.”

He keens and pulls back the toy cock, only to shove it back into himself a moment later. Praise from you is a drug. He’s sure. You’re unbearably earnest and sweet and you are too kind to him. You whisper more of them into his ear as he fucks himself, deep and slow. He feels the sentiment of your words more than he hears it. Deeply affectionate and caring. If he were more lucid, he would be disarmed by you, speechless even. Perhaps he is already speechless, but he blames that on the heat haze and how the head of the toy is pressing deliciously into his sweet spot.

He narrows his focus on the spot and fucks him on the toy in earnest.

Jing Yuan will have an arm ache after this. Many aches, actually. It will be worth it. It is easiest to bear with you underneath him, tilting your hips up to grind against his dripping cock. It’s not the friction his body craves, but it’s welcome. It sends sparks down his spine and he whines into your neck.

You nip at his neck, high on the side of it, and Jing Yuan lets loose a cracking moan. It’s almost embarrassingly loud. Were Jing Yuan able to feel shame in that moment, he’d be red-faced.

Instead, he tips his head to the side, allows you room to mouth and suck marks as you desire. You catch on quickly, and hum, licking broad stripes and soaking him in your scent. Your marks. It surrounds him.

He fucks himself on the toy faster.

(It’s nothing like the heats he had while he was mated with Yingxing and Dan Feng. Not at all. They were shorter, back then. Perhaps it was his youth or the relentless pace and haze Yingxing kept that burned Jing Yuan out faster. Or, maybe it was that Dan Feng always made sure he was wrung out, despite not craving him in the same way Yingxing had. It was carnal then. It still is now, but it does not feel as manic. You are gentle without qualifiers, sweet without expectation, and happy to let him rut into you and back onto the toy as much as he pleases. Your kisses are bruising, but not bloody like Dan Feng’s. There’s a different pace, a different scent, and a different intent.)

Jing Yuan once enjoyed the desperation that Yingxing put into everything he did (including him). He had fallen in love with Dan Feng for his poetics and distanced care. You have neither of these. It is unfair, ultimately, for Jing Yuan to draw comparison.

Perhaps, he’ll feel guilty over it later. For now, his arm gives out and he falls into your chest with a keen. His back arches, hips raised, and the new angle is so, so good. You run your hands through his hair, and move your thigh, just right, so he can grind on it to his heart’s content.

He’s close; he can feel it in his belly.

What sends him over the edge is the feel of your lips against his hairline, the way your lips have curled into a soft, easy smile as you kiss him there. You stroke down his back, like how a good lover would.

You are a good lover.

He shudders as orgasm grips him. The sound that rips from his throat is shattering, as overwhelming as the heat that boils over in his guts. And you are such a good lover, that the little remote must have already been in your hand, as in the moment he comes, the knotted base of the toy begins to swell. Jing Yuan can’t— can’t chase his orgasm. He can feel his eyes growing wet while his body feels out of his control (he hates that, he really does). You, however, are a good lover and reach and stretch, matching his angle with the toy and fuck him through it yourself. The knot catches once inside him, then a second time, and with the third, it locks him and the toy together.

And with what can only be called a sob, Jing Yuan fully collapses on top of you.

He can’t keep himself upright, he realizes. His thighs tremble terribly, and his arms are the same. His eyes are filled with tears he didn’t expect and doesn’t know what to do with. It feels vulnerable. Too vulnerable, in a way that Jing Yuan has avoided for centuries now.

Before the feeling can consume him, you’re coaxing him onto his side and wrapping yourself around him. A sheet gets pulled atop the both of you and you’re nosing into him wherever you can.

“It’s okay,” You tell him. “You’re okay, I promise.”

A muffled sound that comes from your throat, followed by the low roll of a purr.

Oh.

All for him?

He shoves himself closer, skin to skin in all the spots he can reach. His tongue laves at your scent glands as his cunt flutters around the toy. He claws at your back before locking his arms around your waist.

You’re purring for him.

He can help but do the same, even chirping without meaning to as he nips at your jaw. Jing Yuan trails his lips to your cheek, then the corner of your mouth. You curl and laugh at his touch, and Jing Yuan steals the lovely sounds from you with a kiss. It’s something deep and consuming, and Jing Yuan needs more of the taste of you. You squirm into it, gasping and opening your mouth for him to explore as he needs. Your openness continues to undo him.

It’s all the reassurance he needs. Any poisonous feelings fall away, and Jing Yuan, for the first time in far too long, finds himself content and knotted.

...

Jing Yuan has never had a heat quite like this one.

It is certainly more mild, and certainly a bit shorter than what he was expecting. The worst of it lasts five days, followed by three days that he can’t quite call post-heat. Though the desire in him is less feverish, he still craves your presence so much it hurts, and the idea of you being out of his nests sends him into a toothy panic those days. The ‘no teeth’ rule is modified to allow some biting, as long as it doesn’t involve any scent glands.

(However, Jing Yuan still would not mind putting a claiming bite on you. He makes a note to bring this up when he’s feeling some clarity of mind and can... attempt to court you properly.)

The most intense days of his heat are spent with a knotting toy in his cunt, rutting against your soft thighs, or with your hands wrapped around his cock. He eats you out whenever he can muster up the energy to shimmy between your legs and luxuriate there. Any down time is spent dozing in the warm sun rays that his bedroom is perfectly placed to receive.

The latter days of his heat, Jing Yuan is more lucid.

It’s in those days he truly enjoys his heat. Though the burn of arousal still lays within him, it is easily tempered with your presence in his nest and your many shared bite marks. Your time awake is spent lazily kissing, speaking in low voices, and sharing laughter and cups of cool water, one after the other.

Jing Yuan, partially, did not think he would ever get to experience this type of connection again. with you or any other partner. The intimacy of the act is so deeply vulnerable, and after the spiritual loss of both Yingxing and Dan Feng, he never endeavored, or wanted to endeavor to, open himself up in that way again.

He, perhaps, convinced himself he did not need to.

(Nevermind the many nights, both heat-addled and otherwise, Jing Yuan spent craving nesting companions. Nevermind how many nights Jing Yuan lay alone, accepting his losses and mourning mates he’d never hold again. Jing Yuan could never choose to be selfish.)

It helped when Yanqing was little. He was just a small pup with golden eyes like Jing Yuan’s and a fiery spirit, even when he was so small. Jing Yuan had never considered himself maternal, however having a pup to take care of brought out latent instincts he’d spent the better part of his life pretending didn’t exist. As Yanqing aged, however, he was less receptive to such affections and connections. After presenting (far too young, poor thing, traumatized body), Yanqing wouldn’t share a nest with Jing Yuan unless he fell ill. Even then, Jing Yuan would have to coax him into it.

It quenched something in him. It allowed Jing Yuan to let himself care in the direct way he craved. With his position as General, how often does get to show care with his hands, and not with his words or stratagems? Not with sacrifice or poetry, but with his body and scent.

Jing Yuan realizes now that there truly have been so many urges and behaviors Jing Yuan simply did not indulge.

And as his heat breaks, Jing Yuan thinks he’d like to start indulging them more.

...

On the last day of his heat, you stir around nightfall. You are exhausted, Jing Yuan knows this. Though his heat has provided him with a surprising amount of stamina, you are in standard condition, and looked wrung out halfway through day two of his heat. Jing Yuan’s grateful you’re as fond of midday naps as he is.

You are cradled against his chest, your cheek pillows on his breast. He’d thrown a robe on while washing up, and hadn’t elected to remove it. The silky texture of it feels lovely against his flushed, sensitive skin. You seem to enjoy it too as you grip at the fabric of it in your sleep, nuzzling into his chest.

Your brow scrunches and a little sound pops from your throat as you try to burrow closer. It’s a hopelessly sweet gesture, desperate and honest. Jing Yuan can’t help but chuckle and smooth a hand over your mussed-up hair.

When your eyes crack open, your voice is raw, “‘S morning?”

“No, nighttime.” Jing Yuan nods to the darkened window.

You raise yourself up just enough to look, hum, and then fall back on top of him, “Feels like it should be morning.”

“We haven’t been keeping a very consistent sleeping schedule,” Jing Yuan rarely does, but he imagines that you and your position with the Sky Faring Commission have quite a regular routine. “You can keep resting.”

“I don’t wanna’,” Though, you shove your nuzzle into his chest, smearing him with your scent. “I wanna stay up and talk to you.”

“Me?” Jing Yuan smiles, smitten. He pinches your cheek. “About anything in particular?”

“... Not yet.” Your eyes slip closed. “Maybe later. I want to say things to you, but I feel... mushy. Inside my head.”

“Pheromone drunk?”

“‘Something like that,” Your words slur. “Not that I’m complaining. You smell so good, Jing Yuan.”

When you say his name, he shudders. The hand that’s been playing with your hand slips to your nape and squeezes. You keen at the contact and tangle your legs with his. It’s an impossible amount of closeness you are seeking, but Jing Yuan must attempt to give it to you. It’s abashed and honest, and in the stillness of night, how can he not indulge?

“Do I?”

“ Mhm.”

“Like what?”

You’re falling asleep, clearly. You’re struggling to keep your eyes open even as you inhale deeply. Your lips part and you take his scent into your mouth.

“Earth after rain,” You hum. “Sunbeam and linen. Warm milk.”

He squeezes you.

(A long time ago, Yingxing had complained about his scent. ‘Complained’. His face had been flushed crimson, telling him how distracting his sweet, rich scent had been. Dan Feng thought it was the funniest thing, considering Yingxing so clearly enjoyed Jing Yuan’s scent, as did he. They’d described it similarly— “petrichor” Dan Feng had told Jing Yuan while sweeping his mane back from his neck— “the smell of sunshine” Yingxing had told Jing Yuan after berating him.)

“How complementary.” Jing Yuan purrs and pulls you closer by the waist. Your face is smushed against his chest, but you don’t complain. You keep your lips parted to enjoy his scent. “And you like it?”

“So much,” You assure him, droopy-eyed.

So good for him, so so good.

Jing Yuan presses the tip of his finger to your lips, a bit chapped from the dehydration and exertion. You chirp with it, a bit more awake.

He hushes you, and pushes his finger further into his mouth, “Sleep now, dear. You need to rest.”

“‘So do ya’,” You try to say, though it comes out garbled as Jing Yuan lays his finger on the flat of your tongue. Your eyes widen and go a bit crossed to look at his wrist, then up to his eyes.

Jing Yuan isn’t entirely sure what compels him, but something does. Gently, he leans down and presses his lips to your forehead. He idles there, and pets down your side.

“I’ll sleep soon, I’m sure you know.” Jing Yuan says softly. “Will you indulge me?”

(He asks to be selfish.)

Without hesitating, you nod.

(And you let him.)

Jing Yuan doesn’t explain himself. He doesn’t need to. Maybe it’s the specific sweetness his scent must take on, or the night air in contrast to the warmth and comfort of his nest, but you understand what he wants and give it to him without so much as a word.

Your lips open a little wider and Jing Yuan slips another finger inside. You stroke your tongue on his fingers as you close your mouth, eyes going dazed and heavy-lidded. You take a deep breath, inhaling his scent into the deepest parts of your lungs. You suck on his fingers gently.

Jing Yuan watches with still, even breaths.

Later, he will analyze why this scratches so many itches in his brain. Why his post-heat mind feels more calm and sated than he thought possible. Why he wants more of this, always, even if he doesn’t have a name for it yet.

For now, he is so, so content to have you this way. You are lulled back to sleep so easily, sucking on his fingers with your cheek still smushed against his breast. Even as you sleep, Jing Yuan doesn’t remove his fingers. He explores the inside of your mouth with gentle, easy pressure, so as to not wake you. It’s exploratory, more than anything.

He plays with you in such a way until he’s too drowsy to continue. Satisfied and warm, he drags you under the covers and holds you close, scenting you one last time before letting himself fall into a contented, new kind of sleep.

...

You depart suddenly, while Jing Yuan is in the kitchen deftly chopping fruits and assembling little parfaits.

You had been in his bathroom, freshening up with whatever products you’d like from his stash. Jing Yuan had left you your own robe for when you exited, quietly beaming that he’d have yet another article with your scent on it.

However, when you do leave the bathroom, you are fully dressed in the day clothes you arrived in a week ago. You stand at the doorway of his kitchen, pausing, wide-eyed.

“I n-need to go,” Your voice wavers, like you’re going to be ill.

Something squeezes in between Jing Yuan’s ribs. There are thin, transparent patches on your neck on either side. Scent blockers. Your eyes look watery. Jing Yuan immediately sets down the knife he had been working with.

“Is everything alright?” asks Jing Yuan. He knows something is wrong, even if he can’t smell you, you’re clearly distressed and disheveled.

“It’s— it’s nothing. It’ll be okay.” You tell him. Your voice trembles and you shake your head.

“Are you sure? I can help.”

“It’s— it’s really nothing. I need to leave. I-I’m really sorry.”

You look from him to the foyer that leads to his front door and back again. There’s a desperate look in your eye that Jing Yuan has never seen with such an intensity before. It makes his heart ache and his hands feel clammy. He sighs.

(And a quiet, ever-present voice in his mind says, “they all leave, eventually.”)

“Alright.” Jing Yuan gives you a smile, the best he can muster. He knows it must be sadder than intended, as your expression falls and you look like you’ve been punched.

“I’m so s-sorry.”

“It’s alright,” It isn’t. Not fully. “Handle whatever it is that you must. I’m only a call away. If you need anything, please don’t hesitate to contact me.”

“Okay.” You take a shaking breath and shudder out the exhale. You’re trying not to cry and it takes everything in Jing Yuan’s being not to rush to you and attempt to mend whatever is causing you distress but—

(He can’t. He can’t do that. You have asked him to leave you be and Jing Yuan has spent his entire life honing his ability not to chase, even when he so, so badly wishes to.)

You give him one final, fleeting look, “Thank you. I— I’ll see you at our next lunch, okay? I’m sorry.”

It looks like there’s more you want to say, but you’re already out the door before you can. Jing Yuan hears it open and shut with a soft thud that vibrates throughout his home. It leaves Jing Yuan standing alone in his kitchen, frozen, while the robe he wears slips down his shoulders. He bears your marks, and reeks of your scent. His nest grows colder each minute. And though his heat has ended, the yearning for you has not.

If anything, the feeling is far stronger than it was before.

He latches onto the fact you will have your lunches. That— he will find some clarity then. That he can inspect you for damage during the next sunshine-filled meal you share, and prod to see if the last week and half did not carry the same type of... meaning for you, as it did Jing Yuan. He will need to make sure you’re well. He’ll fret until then, he knows this.

(A more dormant, possessive part of him wishes he snatched you back from his foyer and threw you back into his nest. If something was wrong, he could. If something needed fixing, he could help. If it were anything official for your work, Jing Yuan would pull any and all strings to get you out of the obligation. If you were hurt, Jing Yuan would do anything to see you better.)

Instead, Jing Yuan idles in his kitchen, feeling struck and helpless. Something in him aches, deep and low, and Jing Yuan lays a hand over his chest and squeezes it into a fist. He had thought he had become used to this type of loneliness, but it aches all the same.

#lore writes #jing yuan x reader #jing yuan x you #hsr x reader #cw omegaverse #ITS HERE... ENJOY!!#part one hehe <33

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writerthreads · 27 days ago

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Americanisms that annoy the crap out of me in writing

By Writerthreads

Welcome back to another post! Today is a little rant/PSA for all of you who use American English and terminology.

When I read books that are meant to portray British characters, I get so annoyed when I read jarring Americanisms. Here’s a list of them that are especially annoying (I’m sorry):

“Pants”

Pants = underwear. Every time I read something on Ao3 along the lines of “Harry spilled a cup of tea on his pants” I immediately think of him drinking said tea in his undies which is absolutely hilarious.

Somebody who can’t afford to go to the GP/hospital??

Hello, we have the NHS which is free at the point delivery!!! #rare uk w

I had to fully stop reading a fic when a British character couldn’t afford medical care and that was a whole plot-line.

As a medical student, this scenario is fully bizarre for me to comprehend. The only situation in which someone wouldn’t seem medical attention from my pov is if they don’t want to wait for hours at the A&E

Chips/crisps/fries omfg

Chips= the fatter ones you get with fish and chips

Crisps: potato chips

Fries: the thinner ones from Maccies

Cookies vs biscuits

To this day, I still don’t fully get the cookie/biscuit thing but according to my British friends who get annoyed when I mix them up, biscuits are meant to be crunchier (eg. Chocolate digestives & jammie joggers), while cookies are softer, eg. chocolate chip cookies

Biscuits covered in gravy????

What is that. That is not a thing. The UK equivalent would be a scone (sweet, eaten with jam and clotted cream or smth like that and which one goes first is a whole debacle) or a Yorkshire pudding.

Accent/slang

Different people from different areas in the UK speak differently & have different vernacular. When who’s meant to be posh speaks in roadman talk, it’s the funniest thing ever, so please do research carefully!

Takeout

Unfortunately I do say this quite a bit, but people are saying this more in the UK now imo. Takeaway is the preferred term.

Fall

“It’s fall because the leaves fall form the treeeeees” no bro it’s autumn. I grimace every time I read this in a book set in the UK.

I could care less

Ok, then care less? It’s I couldn’t care less, which makes more sense anyways.

Fanny pack

Fannies mean something else in the UK lol. It’s a bum bag, but this term is used more now maybe?

Freshman year? College? Frats? Spring break?

We have a different education system :) uni is three years usually, colleges are halls at uni or sixth form colleges

Little annoyances:

Math: It’s maths. Mathematics.

Vacation: holiday (more interchangeable now tho)

“Line up”: “QUEUE up”

On accident: by accident

Trunk/hood: boot/bonnet (I do a weird mix and say boot/hood, my bad lol)

I drive stick vs I drive manual (learnt this from my ex). Most people in the UK (and Europe) drive manual because it’s supposedly superior

Movie: film (more interchangeable now)

Principal: headmaster/mistress

There’s probably a longer list somewhere…

Thank you for bearing with me. My friends are now subject to me saying ‘trousers’ every time they say ‘pants’, I can’t help it (help I’m getting colonised)

Also look up slang (esp slang from certain parts of London, or roadman slang), they’re hilarious and I can’t help but say some of them now (I blame my friends but honestly calling a meal a scran is so funny)

Anyways goodbye

#writing #writing tips #writers on tumblr #writing advice #creative writing #teen writer #writers block #writeblr #writers #british things #english #i’m sorry for this #but I do get annoyed sometimes and I have to go on reddit to get validated by proper British people getting proper annoyed

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runninriot · 2 months ago

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Feel (I Know What You Need)

written for @steddiesmuttyseptember

week 1 prompts: Service Dom, Pillow Princess | rated: E | wc: 4.454 | tags: Pillow Princess Steve Harrington, Service Dom/Top Eddie Munson, Pre Steddie, Hook-Up, Flirting, Teasing, Sex and Feelings, implied Strangers to Lovers | complete fic on ao3

Eddie should’ve stayed at home, shouldn’t have let Chrissy drag him out of the house to go clubbing because look where that got him.

He’s standing alone at the bar, an overprized drink in his hand, watching his best friend having the time of her life after she abandoned him for the cute girl she’s currently kissing in the middle of the dance floor.

And, oh no, don’t get him wrong! He’s not mad at her for leaving him behind to have some fun with a stranger; he’s happy for her. Chrissy deserves to be swept off her feet, to be kissed by a girl that seemed to be genuinely interested in her, maybe not just for tonight.

Because while Eddie has been aware of his sexuality since he was 15 and lucky enough to stick his tongue down both, a girl and a boy's throat in one night for the first time – Chrissy is only now experiencing the benefits of broadening her... hunting grounds.

That’s good for her. Especially after her break-up with that douche Jason – Eddie couldn’t stand him, always knew it would end up in a mess one way or another. He’s glad that guy’s out of the picture.

So, yeah. He fully supports her little make-out session. And he really doesn’t need her to entertain him. He’s good on his own. Knows it’d be easy to find someone else to occupy his time with.

But the thing is-

He's been trying not to do that anymore, to stop picking up random strangers in random places.

Having casual hook-ups is nice and all, but it always feels like something is missing. Like he can’t live up to his full potential because what he craves demands a little more trust, more communication, more ‘getting-to-know-someone’ and that’s just not how one-night stands work.

So, he’s been trying to be good, to hold back and not jump at the next best person that offers him an inviting smile. But then again- Eddie’s a weak man.

He catches himself too late, can’t help but let his eyes roam across the room, scanning the party crowd for potential takers. It's like a sugar rush, addictive in a way, fuel for his ego - and see, the thing is, Eddie's good at flirting, good at reading people to know what they're after.

Like pretty boy over there, for example. Doing his slutty dance moves; fingers seductively gliding across his mesh-covered upper body, touching his face, stroking through his own hair – confident, horny. He’s good-looking and he knows it, knows he’s got eyes on him, not just Eddie’s.

Eddie can practically hear the girls to the guy’s right gush about him when he sees them giggle and blush while daring to turn their heads every now and then. And there, watching him closely from the left corner, licking his lips like a greedy snake when the guy on the dance floor sways his hips to the beat, is a dude that probably thinks he’s hot shit with his gold chain around the neck and too much gel in his hair.

But neither of them have a chance, because it’s Eddie, who catches his attention when he opens his eyes and stares right at him before making his way over to the bar that’s conveniently also where Eddie is.

This is almost too easy, really.

Eddie can read him like an open book; the yearning in his eyes is visible from miles away and his body language is speaking volumes. Eddie knows exactly what that guy wants and this could be his lucky night because-

Eddie's suddenly feeling generous.

-----

“Never seen you here before,” pretty boy says as he leans over the counter, waiting to get the bartender’s attention.

Eddie doesn’t hide the way he’s checking him out head to toe, eyes lingering where the guy’s bent over the edge of the counter with his juicy behind on display, hugged by a tight pair of shorts that’s sitting dangerously low on his hips, revealing a sliver of bronze tinted skin dotted with moles.

Everything about pretty boy’s outfit screams ‘easy to get’ but he can see in in his eyes that it’s all part of an act.

That guy is anything but easy. He’s the type of person that wants to be conquered – you either prove you’re worth his attention or he won’t grace you with more than a derogatory look.

Eddie is so up for the challenge.

“First time,” he answers curtly, hiding a smile in his glass when he finishes his drink. “Not my usual crowd.”

He’s feigning disinterest while already undressing the guy in his mind, throwing away any half-hearted intention to stay alone tonight.

The guy’s too pretty to be left unsupervised. Someone needs to keep an eye on him, make sure he’ll get home okay.

There are too many creeps just waiting for a delicate little thing to cross their paths, ready to sink their dirty fingers into places they do not deserve to stain with their greedy hands. They’d only cut themselves on his sharp edges anyway.

Eddie, on the other hand, knows how to take care of a beautiful rose with thorns, wouldn’t mind a few scratch marks as a reward for his efforts.

Without looking away from him, Eddie lifts two fingers – the petite brunette behind the bar has been eyeing him up all evening, he knows she’ll see him.

Sure enough, not a minute later, two drinks are placed in front of pretty boy whose eyes widen when Eddie grabs one of the glasses and silently offers him the second with a nod.

“Impressive,” the guy snickers while rolling his eyes, trying not to give away how much it bothers him that Eddie managed to get him served that easy. “I’m Steve.”

He doesn’t offer his hand but instead, straightens his posture and turns to fully look at Eddie, giving him an obvious once over.

“Eddie.”

“So, what brings you here? You said this isn’t your usual crowd.”

Eddie’s eyes flick over to where Chrissy is dancing arm in arm with her girl and he smiles to himself when he turns his focus back to Steve.

“Guess I just wanted to try something different.”

“And? Was it worth it?”

Steve holds his gaze and Eddie could probably get lost in the other guy’s hazel eyes. But he’s a man with a plan and he’s getting tired of their pointless conversation.

Time to cut the chase.

“Music sucks,” he says, leaning just a little bit closer, “but I sure had a fun time watching the dance floor.”

He doesn’t miss the bob of Steve’s Adam’s apple when he swallows roughly, imagines what it would feel like to follow the movement with his tongue.

“Yeah? Saw something you liked?”

Steve inches closer almost as if he doesn’t realise it, eyes still transfixed on Eddie.

“Still do.”

-----

continue reading here

#steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #steddie fic #steddie smut #steddie smutty september #week one #18+ event

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verbenaa · 14 days ago

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all my dreaming is only put to shame | kinktober 2024

𝓅𝒶𝒾𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔: Astarion/F! Tav 𝓇𝒶𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔: E 𝓌𝑜𝓇𝒹 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓃𝓉: 7.3k 𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈: masturbation (both m and f), guided masturbation, mutual masturbation, dirty talk, exhibitionism/voyeurism, praise kink, porn with feelings, yearning, soft Astarion

𝓈𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎: She’s on a particular fantasy, one involving Astarion and some ribbon wrapped elegantly around her body with a touch only he is capable of as he brings her to her peak again and again and praise falls from his lips, when footsteps near her tent.

Footsteps that Rin is far too lost in her imagination to hear—unguarded and terribly vulnerable—especially when said person does not want to be heard, sneaking through the night with every bit of their prowess.

Her lips open on a silent moan and she's so very near completion when a voice cuts through the night, the exact one she had been fantasizing about.

“Well, now this is quite a surprise.”

✧· · ─── ·✧· ─── · ·✧

In which Astarion walks in on a decidedly private moment, but finds a way to make the most of it.

𝒶/𝓃: hello! I am back with my second kinktober fic! This fic features my tav Rin, a half-elf bard, who I write about in my longfic to eden. You don't need to have read it in order to understand and enjoy this fic, but I totally think you should because it's great ~enrichment~ and also has a lot of smut in it along with sassy banter.

the only pertinent information needed for this fic is that it takes place during act 2, not too long before Astarion's confession.

it puts the 'feelings' in the 'porn with feelings' tag. you've been warned 😎 please enjoy and let me know in the comments what you though!

read on ao3 | masterlist | to eden link

Darkened blonde locks lay in sinuous waves beneath Rin’s head where it rests pillowed on her bedroll, the beginnings of something like pleasure leisurely flowing through her veins as she sighs softly into the cool nighttime air.

It was always cold here with the shadow curse hanging over them, but in moments like this Rin finds she doesn’t quite mind the way the chill prickles at her bared skin as heat suffuses through her, the icy touch of it reminding her of a very particular vampire who so very frequently graces her thoughts.

Hands run down her body slowly, taking their time as she luxuriates in the feeling as fingertips run over her collar, her chest, her waist; the touch so light it’s barely there, but the spark it leaves against her skin as they trail is all too real.

But the hands are just a touch too warm, the touch neither artful nor elegant enough to ever belong to him as they softly caress over a peaked nipple, a shallow exhalation leaving her lungs as she brushes against the bud once more.

Astarion hadn’t come to find her tonight, but that was perfectly fine. She could find her own pleasure, as she had done time and time again before they were thrown together by fate and put on this quest.

Rin lets her hands drag down her skin, over the planes of her stomach and down into the valley between her thighs as she lets her legs open for her own touch.

She lets out a silent sigh as they glide through her folds, collecting her wetness on fingertips aching to run circles around her clit. She’s determined to take her time tonight, to indulge herself in a bit of self-care that she occasionally has a habit of not quite prioritizing in the way she probably should.

Astarion, for his part, does always tend to think that she’s too impatient, too rushed, in their nights together. So she’ll take a page out of his book and slow down and enjoy the journey for as long as she can manage before her patience inevitably runs out and she brings herself to her peak.

The tiniest bit of pleasure begins to bloom as she begins to rub gently at her clit, keeping her touch soft and slow against herself. Rin lets out a contented hum at the feeling, widening her legs slightly as she snuggles deeper into her blankets.

She lets her mind drift off into her imagination, the feeling of her hand perfect as she draws lazy circles over herself, slowly kindling the heat inside her with every swirl of her fingertips.

Rin has no shortage of things to imagine, either.

It’s easy to imagine a great deal of things when she thinks about Astarion.

She could imagine Astarion and his lips as they caress over her skin, pressing kisses onto every known inch of her, warming her up with every brush of them.

Or she could imagine Astarion and his elegant, beautiful hands and how those nimble fingers trace over every curve and indentation of her form with a reverence she’s never known from another.

Astarion, with that damned mouth of his, clever and arrogant and talented in equal measure, on her cunt as he tastes every bit of her inside and out.

Astarion who steals fruit and little delicacies for her when he comes across them and smuggles it into her tent, leaving it for her to find later like a treat.

Astarion who reads every inane little letter she writes to him and replies back in kind.

He’s almost, dare she say, likable when he allows himself to be.

Astarion, Astarion, Astarion.

It’s a chorus of his name in her head as she thinks of every little thing about him, everything she’s ever liked and enjoyed or delighted in about her companion, as she loses herself to her fantasy, indulging in the feeling of her fingers circling around her clit as she imagines they were his instead of her own.

Rin sighs into the night, lashes long fluttered shut against her cheeks as she gives herself over to her pleasure.

She’s on a particular fantasy, one involving Astarion and some ribbon wrapped elegantly around her body with a touch only he is capable of as he brings her to her peak again and again and praise falls from his lips, when footsteps near her tent.

She’s rubbing at herself intently, lips open on a silent moan and so very near completion when a voice cuts through the night, the exact one she had been fantasizing about.

“Well, now this is quite a surprise.”

At first Rin thinks the smooth sound of his words are in her imagination, once more getting a little too carried away, but when she smells the very real scent of rosemary and bergamot swirling around her, her eyes fly open, shocked to see Astarion standing in front of her with a sly look on his face.

“Astarion?!” She exclaims, snatching her fingers away from her most intimate place as she scrambles around in an attempt to locate her blanket—the one she is, unfortunately, currently lying naked upon.

She settles for closing her legs, squeezing them together tightly as her arms cross over her chest in an attempt to cover her breasts as she bolts to sitting.

It’s not like he hasn’t seen her naked like this before, but being walked in on in such a state has her feeling decidedly more vulnerable than normal under his reddened gaze.

“Were you expecting someone else?”

“I wasn’t even expecting you.” Rin narrows her eyes at him despite the heat rising to her cheeks under the weight of his gaze as he caresses her skin, Astarion taking in every bare inch as they brush over her; looking at everything from the full breasts she poorly hides behind her arms to her soft thighs now curled under her, expression nothing short of startled.

“That much is clear.” Astarion raises an elegant brow as he finally circles his gaze up to her face, amusement written onto his features as Rin glares up at him.

It was one thing for the object of your fantasies and deepest desires to simply be in camp, nearby and yet still so far away, separated from one another by distance and fabric (however flimsy it might be) and the vague illusion of privacy.

But it was another thing entirely for them to suddenly appear in front of you while you lay naked pleasuring yourself with legs spread and everything on view.

It felt as though she had summoned him here with her incredibly vivid and decidedly impure thoughts and the blush on her cheeks grows even darker, though she’s not entirely certain such a thing is even possible.

“Can I ask, Astarion, what you are doing and why the hells are you in my tent?”

The fact that she’s even having this conversation, stark naked, while he just stands there looking at her as though this was a perfectly normal situation is enough to almost send her into a fit, and she takes a steadying breath in an attempt to center herself.

“If you must know,” He sniffs, even the sound haughty. “I strolled over to see if you were busy, darling. I was going to offer to perhaps share a bottle of wine or even play a game of cards, but I can see that you’ve, ah, taken to entertaining yourself without me.”

Rin rolls her eyes at his choice of words and barely refrains from sending him another pointed look, forcing herself to stop glaring at him and settle instead for what she hopes equates to the serene expression of someone decidedly unbothered by being walked in upon whilst touching themselves.

“Well, I didn’t think you were going to visit me tonight, so I decided to…indulge myself.” The words are awfully embarrassing to speak to him, though she’s still not quite sure why. “Do you have a problem with that?”

She raises her brow imperiously as she holds her head high, attempting a level of bravado she certainly doesn’t feel still sitting nude in front of him. She should probably find her clothes, or at least pull her tunic back on from wherever she had thrown it, but she feels pinned under his gaze, unable to move despite the fact that it would be in her best interest to.

“Problem? Why, I find it quite endearing to know that just a few hours without my presence has you giving into such carnal need.” He smirks and the heat on her cheeks flares to life again. “So, by all means, my darling. Do continue, no need to stop on my account.”

A moment of silence passes between them as they just look at each other, neither Rin nor Astarion making a single move as he just stands there with a crooked smile still painted on his incredibly kissable lips, like he expected her to just open her legs again and have back at it.

“Astarion,” Rin starts, incredulous as her heartbeat stutters in her chest. “are you—are you asking to stay?”

“It’s perhaps not what I had in mind tonight, I’ll grant you, but I am far from disappointed at the turn of events,” Astarion continues, as though blithely unaware of the sheer chaos currently going on in her head. “So I’ll stay, if you’ll allow me the privilege of watching you.”

She’s never touched herself in front of someone before. No one had ever asked and she’s never volunteered to let anyone bear witness to something so…so personal and intimate.

“And if I were to ask you to leave?”

“Then I shall walk out of here and spend the rest of my night thinking of you.” Astarion says simply, not a trace of deception to be found, the smirk on his lips falling as his expression becomes unusually open.

It feels dangerous, somehow, to allow him to see her like this—yet another step they’re taking into the unknown. Their relationship has never been a simple one, nothing cut and dry about the way they’ve grown into each other’s lives like twin vines curling together, only becoming more entangled with every passing day.

And yet, there’s something about his words that threatens to devastate her, the truth of them dizzying and the mere thought that Astarion would ever choose to think about her one that sends her heart into a frenzy, the cadence of it picking up as she sits there frozen.

“You—,” Rin breathes, and she can’t believe she’s doing this, but there’s something almost sweet about his words and in his expression that spells nothing but disaster for her heart. “You can stay, then. If you want. But don’t think it’s going to be anything special.”

She’s not quite so sure why, but she trusts Astarion against her best judgment and has for longer than she would like to admit. She trusts him to have her back in a battle as much as she trusts him with her body, which is arguably poor logic on her part but she can’t seem to resist the pull she feels towards him that has her wishing to be closer to him in whatever ways he’ll let her.

“Oh, I’m not so sure about that.”

Astarion steps deeper into her tent with her newly-given permission, walking towards her bedroll and moving to sit, settling himself at the end of it. He makes himself comfortable, every motion elegant as he keeps his gaze steady on her.

There’s precious few feet between them now from where she’s still curled up on her bedroll; the lush, verdant emerald of her eyes meeting the jewel-like pomegranate of his own in a heated glance that has her looking away first.

“I don’t, I’m not—” I’m not really sure where to begin, Rin admits to herself, biting her lip as the slightest bit of nerves start to settle in the pit of her stomach.

She’s never put herself so readily on display for someone before quite like this and she’s not quite so sure how to—

“Why don’t you start from the beginning, dearest? Show me everything you’ve done to pleasure yourself tonight.” Astarion’s voice cuts through her thoughts, surprisingly soothing and almost reassuring, only a touch of his usual teasing nature present.

It was as good an idea as any.

“From the start, then.” Rin nods as her eyes meet with his again, a subtle heat flowing through her at the intensity flowing between them.

“From the start.”

And with their gaze still connecting across her bedroll, she does.

On a breath, Rin slowly lets her arm fall from her chest and bares the sight of her breasts to him and she swears that she can see Astarion’s eyes grow the slightest bit darker as he peruses her newly-freed skin.

He scans her form, taking in every inch of her that she’s put willingly on display for him and him alone in her tiny, darkened tent. Her breath catches at the way his eyes caress over her as if it were his hands touching her and not only his gaze, and something deep inside her tightens at that look in his eyes.

Astarion, she thinks, likely knew her own body better than she even knew it herself; an intimacy she’s not quite prepared to face the full implication of—she’s not yet ready to accept what it means to be known in such a way by another, as though her body were a map that he had singlehandedly made and studied, learning each of the rivers and valleys and mountains as he drew his fingers across every dip, peak, and plateau of her form.

“I was trying to take it slow tonight,” Rin breaks the silence as she trails a hand over her breast, like she had done earlier by herself, fingertips caressing over a the hardened tip of it. She keeps her touch light, but the intensity of his gaze as he watches the motion with rapt interest has a bolt of heat striking down to her core, still hidden between her closed thighs.

“Trying to indulge myself in touch first.” Rin’s hand slides over to her other breast, thumbing at the peak.

“Smart girl,” Astarion swallows as he shifts slightly where he sits, hand adjusting what she hopes is his growing length in his trousers. “You’ve been listening.”

She watches his face as she cups her breast in her palm, swiping her thumb across her nipple once more. “I have been known to do that, from time to time.”

“You can be very good when you set your mind to it, darling.”

Astarion clears his throat with a soft ahem as his eyes are still stuck on the sight of her breasts as she lightly runs her fingers against a set of still-healing marks upon the swell of one—the memory of his fangs sinking into her flesh around the peak and then sucking as he had drank from her the other night one that has another wave of heat flowing through her.

And from the desire blanketing Astarion’s features as he watches her brush over the bite, she isn’t the only one who remembers that night either; his hand covertly adjusting himself once more as he swallows hard.

Rin’s lips quirk up into a smile as she draws her touch over her ribs and down with aching slowness, her nails running over her skin delicately as she drags them past her belly button and lower, skipping over the place between her legs to run her hand up and down her thigh, reveling in his gaze following every movement.

“But it would be terribly boring if I were good all the time, don’t you think?”

“I suppose it would get a bit predictable.” His eyes trace across her skin, following her hand as she runs it back up her leg.

Rin bites her lower lip as she begins to lower herself down, her back hitting the bedroll as her hair splays around her in a sheet of golden curls. She can still see Astarion as she settles into the blanket, thinly-veiled desire shining in the depths of his rich crimson eyes.

From where he rests at the end of her bedroll, her center will be perfectly exposed to him whenever she decides to part her thighs, every inch of her on display for him to freely devour the sight of.

Her hand trails onto the soft skin of her lower stomach and Rin hesitates for a single moment, her breath catching.

Astarion had already seen every inch of her, all of her thoroughly tasted and touched and explored by him. He knows her body more intimately than anyone else before him, and yet she still felt somewhat shy at the prospect of him seeing her like this.

“You don’t have to, if you don’t want to.” Astarion’s voice is honey-thick with want as his eyes move from her hand upwards to connect with hers, scanning the planes of her face. “I can still leave.”

He can’t keep doing this to her—can’t keep acting like he actually cares for her when she knows better and it threatens to do something unspeakable to her already tenuous resolve in matters pertaining to him.

“I want you to stay,” Rin’s whisper is hoarse as she watches him. “Besides, it’s nothing you haven’t seen before.”

She doesn’t give herself another moment to think or overanalyze, instead parting her legs on a breath as she forces herself to keep her eyes on him instead of averting her gaze elsewhere.

She can hear the sound of air leaving Astarion’s lungs as his eyes cut from her face down to the place between her opening thighs, her hand still poised on her lower stomach just above the delicate skin of her center.

It may be dim in her tent, but she knows he can see all too well the intricacies of her, knows every inch already, but she still can’t help the blush flaring darker on her cheeks as he looks at her like this.

“Just because I’ve already seen you, my dear, doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate the sight.”

The words have her heart beating faster again, and she hates that he can no doubt hear it as the blood rushes fast through her veins, thrumming with an intensity at what sounds like adoration in his voice.

“I started like this,” Rin runs her hand down the last few inches towards her core, slick collecting on her fingertips as she glides them through her folds with barely a touch. “Just…indulging.”

She burns as his eyes follow her hand, desire flaring to life unbearably bright inside her as she lets her fingers dip low to collect some of the arousal pooling at her entrance before running them back up to rub it over the small bud at the top of her sex.

She glances between Astarion’s legs, his pants now very tight, and she can’t help a small smirk as satisfaction washes over her at the sight. She’ll never tire of the knowledge that she’s able to elicit such a response from him without even touching.

“Are you enjoying yourself, Astarion?” Rin lets her finger drift over her clit, her hips jumping as a little gasp escapes past her lips at the touch.

She doesn’t miss the way he begins to openly palm at the erection in his pants, Astarion stifling a groan at the sensation of his hand against himself. “Nothing not to enjoy, you sweet thing.”

Finally, Rin allows herself to circle her fingers around her clit, just as she had earlier that evening, widening her legs as she sighs at the heat building inside her.

It’s a strange feeling—though not unwelcome—to have someone else watching her every move. She never really saw herself as someone with exhibitionist tendencies but perhaps she’ll have to reassess that idea, at least when it comes to Astarion being the one with eyes on her.

She indulges in her own touch as he watches, still stroking himself through his pants, words occasionally tossed back and forth with one another until her ability to converse slowly drifts farther and farther from her mind as she gives herself over to the feeling building inside her—half-created by her touch and half-created by the intensity of Astarion’s attention on her.

“This is—this is as far as I had gotten before you came in,” She sighs as her rolls her clit, a shudder of pleasure running through her body. “Tell me what to do next, Astarion.”

“This isn’t about what I want to see. Show me what feels good, darling.” Her heart twists at the words as the feeling deep inside her tightens even more. “But certainly you must do more than just this when you touch yourself. Tell me, my darling, do you ever fuck yourself on those fingers of yours?”

A pulse of want cascades through her limbs at the mention, Astarion’s words heavy with hunger.

“Do you ever touch yourself, Astarion?” She sighs as she rounds on her clit one last time, lashes briefly fluttering shut in ecstasy as she sends a question back to him in lieu of giving an honest answer.

She’d rather show him.

“I’ve certainly indulged myself.” It’s the worst non-answer she’s ever heard from him as his eyes stay focused on the hand between her legs now drifting away from her clit.

“And what do you think about?” She trails her fingers lower, circling her entrance slowly as she collects more of her arousal on her finger before beginning to press it inside herself on a soft moan. “When you touch yourself?”

Astarion takes a sharp intake of air as he watches her finger slowly disappear as it sinks deep until it fills her to the knuckle and she pumps it shallowly.

“What, indeed,” He muses weakly as he brushes his palm harder against himself.

Astarion, for his part, looks as though he’s barely managing to restrain himself, tension coiled tight in his limbs as he watches her. A not-so-small part of Rin hopes that he will break that carefully held restraint and instead unleash the mounting desire she sees in his eyes upon her instead.

Because while it feels good, nice even, to finally have some relief it’s still far from what she’s become used to—her own fingers nothing compared to what his can do to her.

Rin lets out a low moan as she begins moves her finger, pressing deeper once more before pulling it out. She brings it up to circle her clit, the wetness glistening as her fingers trail across herself.

“What? No elaboration?” Rin smirks as she takes in the look on his face, his expression distinctly amorous. “You can touch yourself more than just that, you know. I wouldn’t mind the sight.”

Her eyes drift pointedly down to the hardened cock tenting his pants, another wave of longing coursing through her.

Astarion notices her shift in attention, naturally, and a trademark smirk graces his plush lips. “And miss a moment watching you?”

Rin laughs, the sound of it throaty as she drags her fingers back down herself and plunges two of them inside her, hilting them to the knuckle as she arches her back at the feeling.

She takes a shaky breath as her hips roll against her hand, pumping her fingers softly as she whines, the sound of them moving in the near silence of the tent loud as she searches for the place to make herself fall apart as effortlessly as he does.

“Does it feel good?” His voice is tight, pupils blown wide.

“It does,” Rin curls the two inside herself and she cries out softly at the feeling. “But not as good as your fingers do. No one’s ever made me come like you do, Astarion. Not even myself.”

The admittance has his eyes running up her body, over her peaked nipples and flushed skin to find her own.

The sight of his eyes on her spread cunt is one thing, a deep and heady feeling; but it’s the knowledge of his eyes caressing over her face that really makes her feel.

There’s something about the way he’s cataloguing every expression of pleasure that crosses over her features as though if he misses a single one he’ll never see it again, despite that he’s seen her in the throes of passion more times than she can count, that has her chest constricting and the heat inside her ratcheting up even higher.

“Tell me what you were thinking about before I came in. And be honest, love. I want to hear everything you have to say.” They’re shockingly desperate words from him that she wasn’t expecting to hear; and the use of that one single affection, love, has her heart beating infinitely faster in her chest unbidden.

“I was thinking about you,” The words slip out as a whisper, honest and true, and she wants to hate that she so readily admits it but simply can’t. “Your smile, your cleverness. How much I like it when you feed from me. How much I enjoy it when we spend time together. The things your hands and lips and cock do to me. I had so many thoughts, Astarion, but all of them were about you. They always are.”

Rin had long been pushed beyond the point of caring about the admission—she’s doomed by her feelings for him, feelings she knows he will likely never return, despite how the line drawn between simply being friends who fuck and friends who are more is muddied with every day that passes, long grown hazy with each lingering touch and moment spent together.

She watches as her confession falls over him, his eyes widening as he fixes her with a look of poorly disguised yearning of his own, eyebrows knitting together as he lets out a breath.

“You, my dear, are far too sweet,” Something shifts in his gaze, something she doesn’t have a name for, but the look of it has the desire in her turning dagger sharp. “Sweeter than I know what to do with.”

“I have faith you could figure it out, Astarion, if you wanted to.” Her hips roll against her hand, the rhythm she had set for herself speeding up ever so slightly.

Astarion’s eyes drift back down to her center, tongue slipping out of his mouth to wet his lower lip. “Add another. Let me see you full.”

She nods as she obeys, pulling the two fingers pressed deep inside her out just enough to fit a third. She keens when she pushes them back in, both her and Astarion’s breath catching when she bucks into her hand.

The heel of her palm brushes hard against her clit as she desperately chases her high, thrusting her fingers in and out of herself at a fast pace that has her thighs beginning to shake.

She finally feels filled, the slight sting of the stretch only adding to her pleasure as she moves her fingers in the way that he does, eager to finally come after so much buildup.

Her hand stutters when she notices Astarion in motion, moving to sit up on his knees before her. She’s sososo close and the brief thought that he’s maybe leaving threatens to derail everything she’s worked herself back up to with him present. “Astarion?”

“Don’t stop, darling,” Astarion whispers low as he instead begins to move toward her, crawling up the line of her body until he’s hovering above, caging her in as he balances on his elbows and knees, one of his hands tangling in her curls strewn upon her pillow near her head.

The other trails fingers down her arm until he reaches the hand she’s riding, the coolness of his skin a shock against the heat of her own as he finally touches her for the first time that night.

Even if he only touches her like this, it’s enough; she’ll take it and revel in the feeling of his skin on hers. He may as well be touching every inch of her with the heat that courses through her as she looks into his eyes, helplessly lost in climbing euphoria.

His hand presses against the base of the fingers she has buried inside her, pushing them deeper as she cries out, his touch a shock of electricity even only on the skin of her hand. “That’s my girl. Just like that.”

“Now, curl them just a bit,” Her hips move against her hand as she hooks her fingers inside her, pressing against herself. “And let me watch you come.”

His lips are terribly close to her own, and she wishes he would just lower them onto her own, wishes Astarion would allow her to revel in the taste of him as the pleasure brewing inside her jumps to a new height.

Another press of her fingers just right as the heel of her palm rubs against her clit is all it takes and she’s blissfully lost in the euphoria as her orgasm finally finds her at long last.

Ecstasy ripples through her body, coursing through her veins Astarion watches her as she comes hard on her fingers, hips writhing as her back arches into his chest. She tries to quiet the cries that fall from her lips as she tightens around herself but it’s hopeless, she’s far too lost in the feeling and sensation to give a damn.

Astarion whispers praise to her as she comes, words like perfect, lovely, and beautiful falling from his lips only serving to make the white-hot haze surrounding her that much sweeter. His hand stays poised on hers the entire time as she rides out the waves of her orgasm despite how her hips buck and her body shakes beneath him.

Her limbs relax as she finally comes down, tremors of pleasure still wracking her frame as she breathes heavily, watching Astarion under lowered lashes as she lays back onto the blanket, sated and boneless.

She’s still trying to catch her breath and calm her beating heart when the hand on hers shifts, Astarion gently pulling her fingers from her body as they wrap around her wrist before he directs them up towards his mouth.

Rin can’t help the sharp intake of air into her lungs as wraps his lips around them and sucks, tongue licking her fingers clean of her come as a low groan escapes from him at the taste of her.

His tongue slides along her skin, lapping up her spend as she shifts underneath him, heat already lancing back to her empty core at feeling of Astarion’s mouth on her skin.

“Delicious, as always.” He nips at the tip of one of her fingers once before letting go of her hand, and Rin thinks he might kiss her if the way he’s staring at her lips is any indication, as though the taste of her made him hungrier for even more.

“Astarion,” She’s mere seconds away from threading her hands into his hair and pulling him down so that their lips will finally meet when Astarion pulls away from her, moving to stand.

“Astarion, what are you—” She follows him up onto her elbows, alarm tinting her words as he rises to his full height, adjusting his length in his pants.

“Sleep well, darling.” His voice is heavy and tight with unfulfilled desire, as he backs away from her bedroll with slow steps as his eyes stroke along the sight of her laying there one last time before he finally backs out of her tent and into the night, leaving Rin laying there once again terribly, horribly, and utterly confused as she flops back down onto her bedroll, breathless and wondering.

✧· · ─── ·✧· ─── · ·✧

It had taken Astarion every ounce of stealth he had to leave her tent without being noticed, the raging erection in his pants not helping his situation as he had stuck to the shadows before finally managing to sneak back into his own tent.

He lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, despite that he doesn’t even need the air to breathe, as he emerges into the familiar decor of his tent, swirling dark red accents a minor comfort to his addled mind.

With a deep sigh, Astarion drops to his knees onto his bedroll, his cock throbbing near painfully in his pants as he runs his hand over the bulge. He hisses at the feeling, holding back the need to buck his hips into his hand.

It had been an effort to restrain himself from touching Rin, but gods had he wanted to. How he had wanted to wrap his lips around her breasts and suck and lick at her skin, bite into her soft flesh and drink from her during the throes of her pleasure, bury his face in between her legs and taste every bit of her she’d let him.

And yet, he had held himself back.

Finding her flushed and naked, a hand between her thighs, had been quite a shock. He had not planned on walking in on such a moment, though he finds that he’s far from disappointed by the outcome.

Not when the sight of her laying open like that as she had let him watch her had been nothing short of beautiful and erotic; the image one that will no doubt be papered onto the walls lining his memory for years to come, should he be lucky to survive that long.

If he were a better man, he would have snuck back out, leaving her alone in her fantasy.

But Astarion is not a better man, and so he had happily interceded on her moment to take a piece of it for himself out of his selfish desire to have her in every way he could without having to admit it.

The horrible truth of it all was that he didn’t have any plan at all when he had ambled over to her tent, simply wandering to where she had settled in for the night in search of her company.

He should have thought harder about what he was doing before entering her tent, just as he should have noticed the familiar scent of her arousal lingering in the air; but that seemed to be the exact issue.

Astarion seemed to be unable to think around her these days, all logic fleeing from his mind. Instead, he was acting on pure impulse and giving into the whims of his desires left and right wherever she was concerned, his plan and everything else be damned.

Astarion was grateful she hadn’t noticed him right away when he had entered her tent, giving him a moment to compose himself from the sight of her to slip on one of his seductive guises, fitting onto him as easily as a well-worn coat.

It was a disguise that he had donned for far less time than he meant to, losing his composure within mere minutes of seating himself down at the end of her bedroll and watching her simply run her hands over her skin.

It was undoubtedly pathetic, but as Astarion palms his cock, still painfully hard from where it’s hidden behind his trousers, he decides that it’s not nearly quite so awful as him running out of her tent was.

Gods, how he could have fucked her tonight. Could have had her crying his name as he pleasured them both into absolute oblivion.

Instead, he fled her tent like some boy who didn’t know what to do with the sight of a naked woman lying in wait.

And for what reason?

Because was too overwhelmed with feeling and emotion that he couldn’t bear the sight of her a moment longer without giving in to an urge he’s not yet ready to put a name to?

Because the want to kiss her intimidated him so incredibly much that he simply had no choice but to run, lest he be pulled in by her spell?

Unacceptable.

But no matter the amount of self-loathing he carries, it doesn’t stop him from peeling his pants down just enough to free his cock, barely paying attention as he pulls his shirt over his head and throws it to the side before laying back on his bedroll as his hand finds his length, twitching and eager between his legs.

He can still taste the remnants of her come on his lips and tongue, ever the sweetest flavor, as he pumps his cock once in his fist, holding back a moan at the touch as his hips buck into his hand.

Rin had been thinking about him.

Thinking about him as she had touched herself, and while he knew the admission shouldn’t be surprising—he had engineered his way into her thoughts, after all, with the help of his foolish plan—it still hit him like a hard punch in the chest, pushing the air out of his lungs and sending his brain into a frenzy.

Of course she had thought about all the things he could do, he’d practiced and perfected his skills plenty over the past two centuries and he’s poured every ounce of that knowledge onto her, but to know that she also simply thought about him as person begins to undo something inside him that had been tangled up for a long, long time.

And what do you think about?

Astarion had never been more tempted to tell her the truth.

He had bit down on his answer, it would have been far too incriminating to admit that he, too, has had a great deal of thoughts these past months and all of them have been about her.

Slowly, Astarion begins to work himself; long drags of his palm against his hardened length as precome leaks from the tip of him in clear, shining beads. He lets his hand drift over the crown of his cock to collect the wetness before positioning his hands just how he likes it—one at the top to work the head of him, and one at the base for the rest.

Sometimes, he fantasizes—imagining things like her wrapped in silk the same color as her eyes, the sheen of it luminescent in the candlelight as it hugs around the circle of her waist and stretches across her breasts, the darkness only serving to make the halo of soft curls that cloud around her that much brighter. He likes to imagine her atop him in this particular fantasy, whispering scandalous things into his ear as she works his cock in slow, deep rolls of her hips, his hands running up and down the indent of her waist as he marvels at the sight of her, something akin to a goddess of pure light in the unending darkness of his existence.

Astarion’s hips jump into his hand as he releases a low moan as his fists speed up at the thought of it and his brow creases in pleasure.

Other times, he thinks back on the nights he’s already had her—reliving the feeling of his cock buried deep in her cunt as they knelt together, every inch of their skin touching as she meets his every thrust, the feeling of her lips on his nothing short of exquisite as they had kissed. He can still smell the tang of her blood, can remember the way she had tasted when his tongue had found hers, can still feel the way he had hit the deepest parts of her as she had come apart in his arms with the loveliest of sighs and moans, his name never sounding more beautiful than when it falls from her lips in ecstasy.

He can feel the tightening in his stomach as he fucks his hands but he wishes it were hers instead touching him right now, asking him how he liked it and how else he wanted it, all of her normal irreverence gone and replaced instead by an aching sweetness that she only ever shows to him.

When Astarion finally comes in his hand, ropes of pearly white decorating the milky skin of his stomach, he comes at the thought of simply her—no one particular thing, but instead the sum of everything she is and everything he’s ever dared to admit to himself that he likes about her.

The look on her face when she serves him a quip she thinks is particularly clever (even when it’s not); the image of her smile; the desperation in her eyes when she had asked to be kissed; the feeling when she runs her hands through his hair; the act of her simply being there for him while he talks and processes everything he’s ever been through—it’s all too much, more than someone like him can bear to handle as he moans out loud his completion and pleasure wracks through his every limbs, muscles shaking and head bowing back into his pillow as he works himself through it with hard strokes of his cock.

Astarion pants as he comes down from his high, tension emptying from his limbs as his come begins to cool on the skin of his hands and stomach and he simply lays there and breathes in the cold nighttime air, eyes staring hopelessly up at the fabric of his tent.

Where is he supposed to go from here?

He certainly can’t go back to acting like none of it matters. He tried that already and it was a spectacular lesson in failure.

It’s an answer he doesn’t know and an answer he has no real way of figuring out; and so he will spend another night ignoring it until he’s once again faced with the brunt of whatever it is brewing in the cavity where his dead heart lives.

Astarion is, by nature, always cold.

It was simply a part of his condition by being an unfortunate member of the undead. His heart no longer beat and there was little warmth to be found in an existence without blood to pump through his veins.

Most of the time, it doesn’t bother him.

After two centuries surviving in the chill of the Szarr Palace, he had learned to handle the bitter cold and the feeling of it against his skin, unable to ever find comfort under his miserable excuse for a blanket. The few bits of warmth he had ever felt during those years were from the measly blood of rats, barely enough to heat his nose much less fend off the chill of life after death.

Now though, now Astarion knows a bit more of what it means to be warm.

Astarion understands the warmth that floods his veins when he drinks mouthfuls of Rin’s blood, delicious and sweet as he swallows it down, the same way he now understands the warmth of the intimacy he finds when they lie together, kissing and touching and moving as one.

But on a night like tonight, the cold eats away at him—biting through his pale flesh down to his bones as it leaves him bereft.

He should have stayed, should have finally allowed himself to indulge in the warmth of rest she’s offered within the circle of her arms. She’s made it clear he’s always welcome to, and the draw of that simple, innocent act stands to be the one thing that eventually will wreck his resolve.

But he can’t give in.

Not yet, at least.

Instead, Astarion will simply dream of it—imagine once more about what it must be like to curl up beside her with their arms wrapped around one another as they drift off to sleep under blankets, warmer than he’s no doubt ever been before.

#astarion x tav #astarion x f!tav #astarion x female tav #astarion smut #bg3 kinktober #astarion bg3 #astarion #astarion fics #astarion fanfiction #bg3 fic #bg3 fanfiction #kinktober #kinktober 2024 #verbenaa writes things!

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stu-dyingstudent · 2 months ago

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Sakura Haruno fic recs: romance-centric

I, like many others, definitely enjoy a a good romance every so often. All of these recs are going to have the romantic development of the characters as the forefront of the story, so just because the fic includes a ship doesn't mean it will go on the list. That means, many of them might feel more on the slice of life side of the spectrum, but that's not the case for all!!

There is going to be a mix of ships here so if you're interested in one in specific then use the search feature!

Started: 2024.08.28

Last Updated: 2024.09.28

note: feel free to check out my master list which has a bunch of Sakura Haruno fic recs (all organized)!

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To Build a Home - RedPowder || ao3 || E || kakasaku || canon divergence || ongoing

Sakura and Kakashi are assigned a mission that will change the path of their lives forever.

Kakashi and Sakura are forced to marry on orders from the village and I know that description sounds dumb, but trust me when I say this fic is gold. I've always had a hard time with kakasaku fics because I feel the whole teacher/student thing gets swept under the rug too easily, but that's not the case here. Their past relationship from team 7 is a glaring shadow over their marriage and the guilt over the whole situation weighs heavy on Kakashi. This mission isn't easy for either of them and it takes a lot of pull and tug to ensure things don't completely blow up. To Build a Home is probably one of my favorite takes on this ship as the portrayal feels realistic and the character feel accurate to themselves. Just give it a go!

Approaching Sun - ANerdInAllHerGlory || ffn || T || sasusaku || blank period || ongoing

After 2 years, Sasuke returns to the village where friends anxiously await him. Still troubled by the mysteries of Kaguya and his personal guilt, Sasuke is split between friends and his journey. Troubled by rising casualties and international dependence on her abilities, Sakura is torn between her love for Sasuke and her duty to her village.

Approaching Sun is probably one of the most realistic depictions of Sasuke and Sakura's relationship that I have read. This takes place during the blank period and references the novels, so it feels like an actual possibility of what went down. As much as I love them, I have a hard time believing that their relationship was smooth sailing and so I think this is an interesting take.

The Fool - thekatthatbarks || ao3 || T || shikasaku || blank period || complete

Ino kicked at a pebble on the ground, her arms folded across her chest. “How long?” Shikamaru sighed and pulled the cigarette away from his lips. “The war." It was a lie somewhat. He’d liked her since they were kids but had simply ignored the budding crush expecting it to fade over time. It hadn’t and by the time the war came around, he accepted he would always carry it despite his increasing efforts to drop it. He’d tried drowning it in the river, burning it in a fire, covering it up with something else. But it was all to no avail. It stuck with him, always apart of him. “Have you ever told anyone? Chouji? Her?” "No."

I actually really like Shikamaru and Sakura as a pairing (or just working together in general); however, I haven't read much of them. The Fool was a great post-war read where with some meddling (curtesy of Ino) we get to watch the progression of their relationship into something more than friends.

Nightmare in Red - Sariasprincy || ao3 || M || itasaku || non-massacre AU || complete

Haruno Sakura used to think the eyes were the windows to the soul, but after witnessing the horrors of the Sharingan firsthand, she's convinced they are the doors. It was pure chance that led Sakura to the discovery of the disease eating through Uchiha Itachi's lungs and now that she's aware, she knows she cannot just turn a blind eye. But how is she to treat the very man who tortured her while at the same time keep her nightmares from consuming her? That she doesn't know, but she knows she has to try, even if it nearly kills her in the end.

Itachi unintentionally captures Sakura in his mangekyou after being rolled into the hospital for her to heal. While Sakura tries to work through the impacts of the genjutsu she continues to work with him in an effort to cure him of the disease infecting his body. I actually really liked how the whole thing played out. Itachi's sickness was sort of a mystery in the original series and so I found it rather interesting to see what was done in regards to it. Anyway, I love their interactions and Shisui is (like always) a great character as well.

Blind - ObsidianSickle || ffn || sasusaku || T || canon divergent || complete

It was almost time, Orochimaru was going to take his body as a vessel. He hated being used...he refused to be used. With that thought, he took the kunai in his hand and slashed across his eyes.

I won't lie, Sakura is pretty weak in Blind and the whole thing is super cheesy, but it's still an enjoyable read.

Ghosts - ElegiesforShiva || ffn || sausaku || M || blank period || incomplete

In love and loss, it often comes back to family, and Team 7 had always been fated, hadn't they? Deny it as she may, Sakura finds her heart strung to them with an uncanny reverence and the weight of their ghosts. Sakura-centric. Heavy, heavy angst. Slow burn Sasusaku. Canon pairings. Lots of friendship feels. Eventual (consensual) lemon.

Ghosts is a pretty dark read where basically everyone is suffering. Sasuke and Sakura in specific have an especially hard time coping with their individual struggles yet they find comfort in each other. Check TWs before going in

Home is Where the Heart is - DeepPoeticGirl || ffn || sasusaku || T || blank period || complete

And with every moment together, they get just a little closer, a little more comfortable with each other. Fall a little more in love. Post-war. Pre-epilogue.

This fic is actually adorable! Taking place during the black period we get to see how Sasuke and Sakura's relationship slowly progresses. If you've always wondered what their travels were like then definitely check this one out.

In Times of Peace - SouthSideStory || ffn || sasusaku || M || blank period || canon divergent || complete

The war is over, and like Konoha, Team 7 has rebuilt itself from the ground up. Everything has changed, but Sasuke and Sakura remain much the same. Eleven years, she thinks, is a long time to be in love.

Sakura and Sasuke have like a secret relationship going on. Also, Sakura as a jonin sensei is so good!! I really wish that someone from the original cast actually went down that route, but whatever.

Labyrinthine - FM_White || ao3 || itasaku || M || canon divergence || complete

ItaSaku (Post Uchiha Massacre) AU: Some things are destined to be. It just takes a couple of tries to get there.ItaSaku. Light KakaSaku.

I actually really liked how this was done as team 7 is still a family, Sasuke didn't lose his mind, Itachi picked a much more respectable path imo, and the characters are all adults.

Only a Crush by Gingersoup || ao3 || kakasaku || M || canon divergent || complete

It was supposed to be an easy, fun night out. She never intended to wake up in her sensei's bed, half-naked and with no memory of what happened the night before! As she tries to unravel the mystery of that night, something sinister is growing beyond the walls of the Leaf Village... and what was only a crush spirals wildly out of control.

Sakura is unwillingly thrust into the world of illegal drugs, trafficking, and sex all while coming to terms with her new feelings regarding her former sensei. I typically don't like kakasaku, but I think this work is done tastefully well. The characters are both adults and the immorality of the relationship is not ignored, so be prepared for a lot of "we can't," "this is wrong," etc.. Anyway, Sakura is an absolute powerhouse and I thoroughly enjoyed the relationship between all of the different characters and villages!

Dreaming's End - thepiedsniper || ao3 || T || kakasaku || canon divergence || complete

Sakura didn't avoid the Infinite Tsukuyomi with the others, and all the events that happened afterward were simply the product of her dream-state. When Sakura finally wakes up from years spent in her personal "paradise," she must to learn how to start again. Kakashi is there to help her. ~*~ (TWs for genjutsu-related unreality)

Basically, imagine the entirety of Boruto was Sakura's dream in Infinite Tsukuyomi. When Sakura manages to breakout during the war she's left to deal with serious ramifications of the life she just lived. She finds herself constantly questioning what's real and Kakashi tries to help her through it.

Mamihlapinatapai - FM_White || ao3 || E || itasaku || canon divergence || ongoing

Mamihlapinatapai・Yagan. (n.) a look shared by two people, each wishing that the other would initiate something they both desire, but which neither wants to begin In which Sakura tries her hardest to raise one hell of a rambunctious baby by herself, Sasuke is searching for something unknown, and Itachi is the uncle.

In another life where Itachi doesn't end up dying and instead tries his best to help Sakura raise his niece in Sasuke's absence. It's my head canon that everyone came together to help with Sarada just like they did for Kuranai, and so Mamihlapinatapi satisfies that thought for me. I like how Sasuke was criticized in this since as much as I understand the necessity of what he's doing, I also find it completely unfair to his wife and daughter. Itachi and Sakura form a great bond and it's all very domestic and just super fluffy all around, which I love.

Louder than Words - SouthSideStory || ao3 || T || sasusaku || non-massacre AU || complete

Sakura hasn’t uttered a single word since the day her family died, but Sasuke is determined to hear her, one way or another. (No Uchiha massacre AU.)

Sakura gets taken in by the Uchiha family after Fugaku finds her on a mission. She's been mute ever since, but that doesn't stop her and Sasuke from forming a close bond.

Snake Bound - shefalls || ao3 || E || sasusaku || canon divergence || complete

"You... took me with you." "That's what I said." "To Orochimaru. You took me with you, to Orochimaru." Sasuke nodded curtly and shoved the medical kit a little more insistently into her hands. Sakura accepted, and prayed to every known god that Orochimaru would ignore her existence. She should've known the gods don't listen. Now only on AO3. Sequel up.

What if Sasuke took Sakura with him like she asked? Snake Bound explores that idea and it's honestly a very uncomfortable read. Their relationship is based off of the isolation and dependency their new situation puts them in. All they really have is each other and the new bond that brings is not a healthy one.

Armour-Sleeved Single Hit - thatdamnuchiha || ao3 || T || madasaku || time travel AU || one-shot complete

Sasuke always told Sakura she was weak. Even after she trained with Tsunade for years he only had eyes for Naruto whom he considered strong. She would forever be invisible to him no matter how many mountains she toppled.Being a member of Team Seven despite Sasuke’s refusal to acknowledge her meant she got herself into her fair share of sticky situations. Getting stuck a hundred odd years in the past had to take the cake though.But she was just a weak little girl and compared to the shinobi of old she’d be ridiculously pathetic. Sasuke had said she was weak to him – a modern day shinobi who hadn’t been forced into battle after battle like they did in the Warring Clans Era. Obviously she’d be nothing more than a spec of dirt in the eyes of the Founders.

Sakura manages to find herself in founding-era Konoha! While trying to prove that medical ninja are capable fighters she unknowingly gains the affection of Madara Uchiha. After all, the Uchiha find beauty in strength. Super cute read!

Always You - alex-halcyon || ffn || T || kakasaku || age swap AU || complete

[AU. Age-swap] Kakashi x Sakura. From academy days to the third shinobi war and beyond, Kakashi and Sakura grow up and fall in love.

Basically, Sakura takes Rin's place on the old team 7. The progression between the character is quite interesting as it definitely isn't smooth sailing for Kakashi and Sakura. However, even through everything they find themselves drifting towards each other. Pretty cute imo.

interim - stannide || ao3 || T || sasusaku || blank period || one-shot complete

Sasuke lives with Sakura in the weeks after the war.

Interim is such a wholesome read where Sasuke and Sakura rekindle their former relationship. Super fluffy

Hit Me With Your Best Shot - Tozette || ao3 || T || sasusaku || blank period || one-shot complete

Sasuke is actually eighteen the first time he looks at Sakura and realises abruptly that he wants her.

I think we all know by now that Sasuke has always been attracted to strength, power, so why not when it comes to romance? Essentially, one day on a mission, Sasuke discovers he has a strength kink. Watching him continuously get flustered throughout the fic because of his admiration towards Sakura's strength is so entertaining. Really fun read

the problem with how time works - MurderMittens || ao3 || E || kakasaku || generation swap AU || complete

"I don't remember you being this uncomfortable when Kakashi was nine and had a crush on you," Ino pointed out neutrally. "You thought it was flattering before." She moved to pour more wine into their glasses as Sakura exhaled sharply out of her nostrils. "Obviously! It was fucking cute when he was a kid! But now he's..." she trailed off, gesticulating feebly. Ino, taking pity on her, finished the sentence: "Now he's a stone cold hottie who looks and sounds like he'd murder the ever-loving shit out of your vagina."

Sakura and Kakashi's generations swap place and boy is it entertaining. With Naruto as his sensei, of course Kakashi has met Sakura. Now that she's back in the village after years, Kakashi decides to try his best to win her over.

on still water - summersirius || ao3 || T || shisaku || canon divergence || complete

and sometimes, there are days without rain. —shisui/sakura

I'm actually devastated that the author decided to not pursue the plot line after about chapter 15 (it was so good too), but On Still Water is great nonetheless. Some really cute Shisui x Sakura moments

never let 'em know your next move - MirrorImage003 || ao3 || T || itasaku || non-massacre AU || one-shot complete

six times itachi is surprised by sakura, and the one time he's surprised by his mother.

Sort of drabble style moments between Itachi and Sakura and it's honestly adorable.

Hatsukoi - sparklyfaerie || ao3 || sasusaku || gen || non-massacre AU || complete

Sasuke leans away as the girl turns to him, and his mother doesn't need to be any closer to guess as to the expression on his face. The girl's body language changes in an instant, and Mikoto recognizes the posture of a little girl in love. It's kind of adorable.

Probably one of the cutest sasusaku fics I have read as Hatsukoi follows them from genin to marriage! It's told in multiple perspectives and it's full of tooth rotting fluff. You get to watch the slow progression of their relationship over time and how they grow even closer in Naruto's absence. Definitely read is you want something light!

(oh, you'll probably go to heaven) please don't hang your head & cry - SafelyCapricious || ao3 || T || itasaku || time travel AU || one-shot complete

There’s no such thing as a good death. But Sakura faces her death without any regrets. Her dying is keeping her precious people safe — and that’s all she can ask for. So she dies with a smile, taking thousands of enemies with her. She wakes up and falls off the branch she’s laying on.

More of a pre-ship than anything actually romantic, so maybe this isn't the best for this list lmao.

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Send me some recs if you have any to share! I'm generally fine with any ship as long as the story is good :)

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aethon-recs · 1 year ago

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Tomarrymort Starter Pack: 10 Recs for Getting Started in Tomarrymort

I've compiled a list of 10 medium to longfic recs that I think represent a great on-ramp to the Tomarrymort ship, as inspired by @sitp-recs’ Drarry for Beginners rec list. These are the fics that I would use to on-board people to the ship — gorgeous writing, superb characterization, and just as enjoyable on the first read as the 20th reread.

As always, I am stunned by the talent in this ship! I tried to pick a good mix of different themes/tropes/settings, with a focus on elements that make for a good introductory work: the characters are recognizable; the setting skews more recognizable; both characters in the ship are a meaningful part of the story; the ship is central to the story; and the fics are for the most part complete (or updated within the last year).

(Standard rec list disclaimers apply: please mind all tags and warnings on AO3 before reading; this blog abides by the age-old fandom axiom of don’t like; don’t read; recs are in alphabetical order by title.)

This is Part 1 of a 3-part series — I also have an Intermediate reading list and Advanced reading list coming up for readers who have been with the ship for a longer time.

For now, please enjoy these 1.3 million words of absolutely brilliant Tomarrymort reads that I hope will keep you hooked until the very last word:

Tomarrymort Starter Pack Recs

A Dangerous Game by @cybrid (E, 284k, WIP)

Setting: Canon Divergence – Book 5 Premise: If Tom’s diary horcrux gains a body at the end of Harry’s 5th year (instead of his 2nd), and then promptly kidnaps Harry and holds him captive over the summer. Lots of smut ensues. Why I rec it: The characterization is truly stunning — Tom Riddle is undoubtedly a psychopath — manipulative, thrill-seeking, kind of an irredeemable shithead — but he’s also dazzlingly charming when he chooses to be, someone whose presence Harry quickly grows addicted to. Their relationship can get incredibly toxic and fucked-up at times, but Harry has top-notch instincts and can hold his own against Tom. The plot is absolutely gripping, with the threat of (the main) Voldemort, who has set his sights on reclaiming his wayward horcrux, looming in the background.

A Future Without a Face by @dividawrites (E, 115k, complete)

Setting: Time-Travel (1940s) Premise: If Harry travels back in time to Tom’s 5th year at Hogwarts, and Tom becomes obsessed with the new transfer student and wants nothing more than to possess him every way. Why I rec it: A 1940s time travel fic told entirely from Tom Riddle POV! Divida absolutely nails psychopath Tom — how he quickly gets singlemindedly focused on Harry, how the idea of possessing Harry consumes him, how he has no compunctions about doing completely fucked-up and destructive things to achieve his goals. There is so much tension between them from the start, so there’s not much of a wait to see some hot Harry & Tom action — and the conflict and tension only continues to build and build in dramatic fashion throughout the rest of the fic.

Either must die at the hand of the other by @metalomagnetic (E, 260k, complete)

Setting: Post-Canon Premise: If Voldemort survives the Battle of Hogwarts and is initially kept prisoner in Azkaban, until Harry takes him into Grimmauld Place under house arrest. Why I rec it: This fic is an incredible exploration of Voldemort at his most terrifying. Even if he starts off the fic with his magic temporarily blocked, he is no less powerful without his magic. The force of his personality is powerful enough for him to chip away at Harry’s initial resistance — @metalomagnetic manages to write one of the most charismatic, brilliantly manipulative, and psychologically devastating versions of Voldemort I’ve ever read. Harry ends up in a good place by the end of the fic, but the journey to get there is a roller-coaster of emotions that have permanently imprinted onto my soul.

In Somno Veritas by ladyoflilacs and @lordansketil (M, 158k, complete)

Setting: Canon Divergence – Book 6 Premise: If Harry starts appearing in Voldemort’s nightly dreams during Book 6, and Voldemort becomes obsessed with Harry after realizing he’s his horcrux. Why I rec it: This is one of the most unique fics I’ve ever read in this ship! Every scene is told in alternating POV between Harry’s POV and Voldemort’s POV, so you get to see how every scene unfolds from both of their perspectives. Voldemort is so intense and just as terrible as he is in canon, so his character is not at all sugarcoated, and Harry has so much compassion and heart and manages to fall in love with Voldemort anyway. The writing style is gorgeous, with richly detailed and emotionally-laden prose. Also, one thing that pleasantly surprised me is how funny their banter is! There were definitely a number of times where I laughed out loud in the middle of an otherwise really intense scene. Bonus content: also comes with a lovely sequel that made me melt.

Inevitabilities by @shadow-of-the-eclipse (T, 103k, complete)

Setting: Same-Age AU Premise: If Harry and Tom attend Hogwarts together and go traveling around the world after they graduate. A betrayal leads to their break-up, but after many years, Harry returns to find Tom in Britain, and the two of them are drawn back together again. Why I rec it: An excellent same-age AU with unhinged dark Harry and just-as-unhinged Tom. Their relationship starts out quite dark and twisted and unhealthy — and only devolves from there. The fic ends with the two of them as equals — utterly devoted to each other — but in an incredibly fucked-up way: “He loves Tom like a forest fire; wild and all-consuming, he wants to devour Tom, to claim him, to mark him, break him.” Isn’t that absolutely breathtaking?

love is touching souls (surely you touched mine) by @toast-ranger-to-a-stranger (M, 34k, complete)

Setting: Time-Travel (1940s) Premise: If Harry gets thrown back into the mid-1940s and meets Tom Riddle as a young man just graduated from Hogwarts working at Borgin and Burkes. Why I rec it: When Harry accidentally travels back in time and chances upon Tom Riddle as a fresh graduate, he realizes this is his chance to make a difference. While Harry is only in the past for a brief interlude, he leaves enough of an impression to change the trajectory of Tom’s life. The dynamic between Harry and Tom is rife with tension and witty dialogue, and the story is set during Christmastime, which lends a very festive and heartwarming atmosphere for falling in love with each other.

No Glory by @obsidianpen (E, 254k, WIP)

Setting: Voldemort Wins AU Premise: If Voldemort figures out Harry is his horcrux when Harry surrenders in the Forbidden Forest, and decides to keep Harry instead of killing him. Why I rec it: This fic showcases the absolute, terrifying genius side of Voldemort, in a universe where he wins the war and captures Harry at the end of book 7. I am stunned at how skillfully @obsidianpen portrays Voldemort as a brilliant political strategist — the courtroom scene where he manipulates the story and the audience so well stands out as a top 10 fanfic moment in my mind. Harry and Voldemort’s relationship is chilling from the very start, and grows even more unhealthy as Voldemort gets addicted to Harry’s touch due to the presence of the horcrux, but Harry later learns to turn that to his advantage.

The Fire, Burning by @parsimmony (E, 35k, complete)

Setting: Canon Divergence – Book 6 Premise: If Voldemort discovers Harry is his horcrux after Book 6, and kidnaps him to keep him captive by his side in his bed, inside of a lovely greenhouse setting full of friendly snakes on the grounds of Malfoy Manor. Why I rec it: The prose!! I am swooning over the prose! Harry is Voldemort’s captive in this fic, but he is so much more than that — and the emotions that gradually blossom between them have so much richness and depth and are utterly moving that I’m still drowning in the depths of intimacy that were portrayed. Their relationship unfolds in such a gorgeous and unrushed way, and the setting is so unique too — a lush and overgrown greenhouse that’s exploding with exotic plants and friendly snakes around every corner that imbues the fic with a very romantic, dreamy quality.

the pleasure, the privilege by @being-luminous (M, 20k, complete)

Setting: Canon Divergence – Book 6 Premise: If Voldemort is doused with Amortentia keyed to Harry, and starts sending Harry bizarre and gruesome courting gifts, like the bodies of the Dursleys. Why I rec it: Breathtaking prose! Voldemort somehow ends up more terrifying when he’s trying to woo Harry than when he’s trying to kill him. Every single sentence had me on the edge of my seat, as Voldemort’s ‘gifts’ become more elaborate and devastatingly dramatic, until Harry basically has no choice but to respond to his overtures. The ending is incredibly clever in how it parallels certain plot elements of book 6, with an added Harrymort twist.

The Untouchable by @treacleteacups (M, 75k, complete)

Setting: Canon Rewrite (Books 1-7) Premise: If Harry starts out his first year a little bit more suspicious and a little less wide-eyed and guileless, and subsequently gets sorted into Slytherin. He has many of the same encounters with Voldemort along the way as he does in canon, but his interactions with Voldemort will end up leading him down quite a different path. Why I rec it: A snappy, fast-paced full canon rewrite that still manages to fit in all the essential Tomarrymort plot points, between Horcruxes and Hallows and the major events of books 1-7, in a compact 75k words that doesn’t at all feel rushed. It’s a delightful journey following Harry’s character evolution from an overlooked, peculiar child who relies on wishy-washy wish magic to a confident (and still endearingly peculiar) young man who can challenge and hold his own against the great Lord Voldemort. Voldemort’s obsession with Harry deepens with every encounter that they have, as he finds ways to continually insinuate himself in Harry’s life and his mind and his dreams.

#Tomarrymort Starter Pack #tomarrymort #tomarry #harrymort #aethon recs #tomarry recs #tomarrymort recs #harrymort recs #hp fic recs #longfic recs #ao3 recs #fanfic recs #2023 reads #2023 recs

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corrodedcoffinfest · 8 months ago

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Welcome to Corroded Coffin Fest!

This is a fanworks challenge/event that is all about Corroded Coffin. It will take place from July 1st thru July 31st.

Thanks so much for showing interest in this event during this post! If you have friends that you think would like to participate, please considering reblogging this announcement!

The calendar of prompts is located here:

Since there are so many events going on (and we love to see it!) we've decided to set a word count range for this event, so the love can be spread around to more events.

GUIDELINES:

Ideas for works include: fic, art, gifsets, fanvids, moodboards, edits, playlists, or anything else you can think of to celebrate Corroded Coffin!

For fics, there is a word count minimum/maximum of between 300-1000 words per drabble. We'll use wordcounter.net to check the word counts before reblogging, so make sure you stick to that range!

Do one prompt, do them all. Hell, do them all twice! It's totally up to you. You can pick and choose what you're interested in. And we're not going to police how you interpret the prompt. Just use them as a jumping off point to be inspired by the boys of Corroded Coffin, and then share that inspiration with us! (Not everything has to be band related, we encourage you to explore other parts of their lives, too!)

Submissions can absolutely be connected to other prompts from the event, or even past works, but should still be able to stand alone each day.

Every morning a new prompt card will go up, reminding everyone of what that day's prompt will be.

All submissions should include any pairings featured, content rating and any content warnings (CW) or tags that you think are appropriate. Please put the prompt you are fulfilling as well, just to keep things straightforward. A sample could look something like this:

Prompt Day 9: The Hideout, Word Count: 666, Rating: M, Pairing: None, CW: Underage Drinking, Recreational Drug Use, Tags: Corroded Coffin, First Gig, Partying, Eddie, Gareth, Jeff, Freak, The Hideout

Also, please consider putting any explicit material under a read more cut, because anything rated E that's not hidden under a cut will not be reblogged.

For the artists! Your art submission must be posted on the same day as the current prompt in order to be reblogged by this blog. Your piece of art (or other creation) must be Corroded Coffin focused, using any combination of the guys, together or solo. Of course, other characters can be included, too! But you need to have at least one of the CC band members in it for it to count for this event. Thank you!

All ships are welcome, as long as they include at least one member of Corroded Coffin: Eddie, Jeff, Gareth & Freak. (Who I look forward to learning the name of from you all, time and time again!)

Please tag us here @corrodedcoffinfest when you post your work for the day so we can reblog it!

Be respectful of your fellow participants and readers. We're all here to have fun and share the love of all parts of Corroded Coffin.

Definitely feel free to ask me anything if the rules weren't clear in places, or if I straight up forgot something (or if you just have anything else you'd like to ask). You can send an ask/message to this blog or reach out to @thisapplepielife.

Please submit your post by 11:59 PM EDT on the day of the prompt in order to not be missed for reblogging.

If posting on AO3, please feel free to use the collection associated with this event: Corroded Coffin Fest AO3 Collection after your submission has been reblogged by this account.

Most importantly, have fun! We can't wait to see what Corroded Coffin fanworks come out of this new event!

More info below, including full prompt list with jumping off suggestions, the warm-up rounds for April, May & June, and a spreadsheet you're free to use:

PROMPTS:

JULY 1ST - FIRSTS

First gig, first check, first award, first...anything.

JULY 2ND - IN THE BEGINNING

How did Corroded Coffin come to be?

JULY 3RD - BEST FRIENDS

Who are the best friends in the band in your head? Let's find out.

JULY 4TH - EDDIE

We all know Eddie. Let's hear some more about him today.

JULY 5TH - ON THE ROAD AGAIN

Get them out on the road, in any way you see fit.

JULY 6TH - HEARD IT IN A LOVE SONG

Let's have some romance. Any pairing(s) that tickle your fancy.

JULY 7TH - CELEBRATE GOOD TIMES, C'MON

Let them celebrate! Maybe that's a birthday/holiday/celebration show. Maybe it's a wedding, etc.

JULY 8TH - BAND POLITICS

Fight! Fight! Fight! Not everything goes smoothly all the time.

JULY 9TH - THE HIDEOUT

Catch them there, every Tuesday, playing for five drunks.

JULY 10TH - PRIDE

Let's see them celebrate Pride! Or let's see them be proud, etc.

JULY 11TH - JEFF

Let's spend some time with the guitarist of Corroded Coffin.

JULY 12TH - OW!

Injuries happen. Tell me more.

JULY 13TH - SEX, DRUGS & ROCK N ROLL

Tell us about the seedier parts of being in a band! 18+ for adult content, please!

JULY 14TH - AND THE WINNER IS...

It's time for awards season. Do they win? Lose? Let us know.

JULY 15TH - LET'S TALK ABOUT THAT

Press Tour/Interviews. Sometimes they need to promote themselves.

JULY 16TH - STRUGGLING

They're working their asses off, grinding it out, but they haven't hit the big time yet. Or they're struggling in other ways...

JULY 17TH - "THIS ONE'S FOR YOU"

Dedicate a song to someone special.

JULY 18TH - FREAK (GRANT, FRANK, GOODIE, ETC.)

Whatever name you given him, let's all focus on the bassist of Corroded Coffin.

JULY 19TH - IN THE GARAGE

Get them in the garage. Band practice, fixing the van, etc.

JULY 20TH - UNDER THE COVERS

Let them cover some real songs. Or, you know, get under the covers in another way...

JULY 21ST - HATE THIS TOWN

Hawkins. How was it dragging them down? Or, maybe they hate LA...

JULY 22ND - ALTERNATE UNIVERSE (AU)

Use your imaginations and put them into a whole new world!

JULY 23RD - UP AND COMING

They're finally gaining a little traction. Or maybe they're up...and coming. *wink wink, nudge nudge*

JULY 24TH - BEHIND THE SCENES

What's it take to get this show on the road? Or, what are they really like, off-stage? Let's get a peek behind the curtain.

JULY 25TH - GARETH

Bang them sticks! Let's catch up with the drummer of Corroded Coffin.

JULY 26TH - TOUR DATE

Let's focus on a specific show.

JULY 27TH - YOU'LL BE IN MY HEART

Navigating love while on the road.

JULY 28TH - BACK TO INDIANA

Let's go back to Hawkins and/or Indiana. Send these boys home.

JULY 29TH - BEHIND THE MUSIC

You know there's drama. A story. Probably enough for VH1 to come knocking.

JULY 30TH - FAME & FORTUNE

They've made it big! Now what?

JULY 31ST - YOUR SONG

A Corroded Coffin song? A work inspired by a song? A song that makes you think of Corroded Coffin?

WARM-UP ROUNDS:

Let's get a little practice before the full event in July!

Here's a prompt each month leading up to the event to work out the kinks and get in the rhythm of it all!

APRIL 15TH - TAXED

It's tax day. Do they need to pay their taxes? Is this a write-off? Or, are they just taxed from being on the road? Tax them.

MAY 15TH - GET A JOB

Put 'em to work. First jobs, side hustles, etc. Surely they've had some other jobs besides being in the band. Tell us about them.

JUNE 15TH - BAND ON THE RUN

Are they late for a gig? Running from monsters in the Upside Down? On a tour from hell?

Same guidelines as the full event will apply.

SPREADSHEET:

If you'd like a spreadsheet to help you keep track of the prompts and your progress, here's the one I personally use for other events, and will be using myself for this event. If you'd like to use it yourself, just go to File>Make a Copy and you'll get a version you can edit in your own Google Sheets.

Thanks for showing interest in having a Corroded Coffin event this year! ❤️🦇🖤 - @thisapplepielife (and thanks for the help and adding to the prompt list, @wormdebut!)

#corrodedcoffinfest #corroded coffin #mod post #rules #guidelines #eddie munson #gareth stranger things #jeff stranger things #freak stranger things #fanworks event #event rules

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king-urameshi · 4 months ago

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my favorite bucktommy fanfic

I figured I've read enough fanfic for this ship to curate a list of my favorites since wading through the ao3 tag can be a challenge. Some of these have been recommended numerous times already on here but hey, what's another shout out for some good writing?

I will add more on reblogs as I come across other fanfic I like:

left breathless by elizabethgee [e] [11.4k words, 2/3 chapters]

summary:

Buck turns to Tommy for comfort when an arson case involving a man who looks like Tommy ends up being ruled a murder. And Tommy doesn't have daddy issues. Really, he doesn't. This fic will include very dark themes, including blackmail, murder, and arson.

prescribed burn by wakeupnew [t] [8.4k words, one-shot]

summary:

Tommy's busy fighting a wildfire at the edge of the Angeles National Forest, but every time he checks his phone, he has an increasingly unbelievable series of text messages. (Or: Over the course of eighteen hours with Buck and the 118, from a distance and then up close and personal, Tommy keeps having to reassess.)

gettin' bi by brewrosemilk [e] [10.3k words, one-shot]

(you have to be logged in to read it)

summary:

God, this feels really good. Everything about it; from the size of Tommy’s hand cradling his face, to the gentle yet firm way he sucks Buck’s bottom lip into his warm mouth - to the rough traction of their faint stubble, a slight sound going with it. Men, Buck decides right then and there. Yeah. Men are good, too. disclaimer because i have picked up on some confusion: this is not a friends with benefits > lovers story. they are good friends, but they are not in love. this story embraces the concept of casual and platonic sex, especially between bi/gay men because it tends to be something that is heavily stigmatized.

company through every twist and turn by kitthekazoo [m] [12.2k words, one-shot]

summary:

Five fights that help Buck and Tommy grow closer.

all the vices i can't give up by starryeyedjanai [e] [4.6k words, one-shot]

summary:

It’s kind of second nature at this point—if he’s not sending a picture to Eddie, it’s probably going to Tommy. So his mind must have been running on autopilot when he hit send and now he has to deal with the fact that he accidentally sent Tommy a picture of him with water dripping down his chest, a clear come on. And that Tommy took the bait. or, Tommy doesn’t kiss Buck when he comes over to make things right between them, but Buck still manages to accidentally bag him

while you arranged flowers by newtkelly [e] [4.6k words, one-shot]

summary:

Tommy’s eyes catch his and Buck is taken aback by the state of them, blown so black and glassy. He always looks so tongue-in-cheek, like he’s in on some joke and waiting for everyone else to catch on. He doesn’t look like that right now, though. Tommy’s composure is waning—the guy who takes on the world with a million dollar smile and a statuesque cleft chin and flies choppers to Vegas on a whim and into Cat 5 hurricanes to help old friends and kisses clarity into men who thought they were finished figuring themselves out, that guy is just as much a slave to his desire as any mortal man, and Buck is winded by the fact that he’s played any part in that. — Buck’s got a wedding date, but as far as today goes, he’s also got a regular one.

looking for an ocean breeze/so i can fill my mind with ease by newtkelly [e] [8.8k words, one-shot]

summary:

“Can I top you off?” Buck’s head whips frantically in Tommy’s direction. “Huh?” “Your champagne,” Tommy says with a sooty half-smirk, while Buck irrationally feels like his bluff’s been made. Tommy taps a finger twice against the plastic in his hand. “It’s empty. Can I get you some more?” — Maddie gets married in an emergency room and Buck learns how to ask.

of coming outs and spiderman kisses by alicemcgee [g] [1.9k words, one-shot]

summary:

After coming out to the two most important people in Buck's life, he decides to wait with telling the rest of his friends. he's ready, he just wants to find the right way to do so. Naturally, as this is Buck we're speaking about, things get a little out of his hands. Or should we say mouth?

the ally and the beast by jobairdxx [e] [2.4k words, one-shot]

summary:

Tommy knows he's late, and he feels awful about it. He so badly wanted to make it to the wedding, but the fire was an absolute inferno that would not go out. When it was finally extinguished and Tommy was given the okay to head out, he jumped in the rig with the rest of his crew, immediately asking them to drop him at the hospital. And of course they had given him grief for it, but he didn't care as long as they got him where he needed to be. When he walks through the ER bay doors and sees Evan, he's instantly apologetic. “Sorry I'm late, that fire was a beast.” But then Evan hits him with a, “So are you,” and grabs him and kisses him, and he wouldn't be able to stop the moan that leaves his mouth if he tried.

i could be the one (or your new addiction) by milominderbinder [t] [4k words, one-shot]

summary:

“You know you’ve got a hard limit on five Tommy mentions per day,” Hen says. She puts one hand on her hip, and the other points accusingly towards the large jar in the middle of the coffee table; once home to Cap’s homemade trail mix, it’s recently been emptied out, labelled the Tommy Jar, and is already stuffed half-full of Buck’s hard-earned dollars. It’s only been four weeks since he came out to everyone. The jar was introduced by the end of week one. With a sigh, Buck reaches for his wallet. He pulls out two dollars, walks over, and stuffs them both into the jar. “That’s one on credit,” he says, “'Cus you have to let me finish the story—" Five times Buck had to put a dollar in the Mentioning Tommy jar during 7x07, and one time nobody was around to catch him.

an outlier that should not be counted by dadvans [e] [7.4 words, one-shot]

summary:

Buck knows a lot of random trivia. Tommy falls in love with him one fact at a time.

flying blind by kat2107 [t] [3.3 words, one-shot]

(have to be logged in to read)

summary:

Evan Buckley loves his boyfriend. He also loves sex. He would love to have sex with his boyfriend. When he gets a bad feeling why Tommy insists on keeping things PG13 way past any necessity, he turns to the only gay firefighter he knows. Consent is easy, right? It's all about the communication. note: There is a hint of bad sexual experiences Tommy had in the past when he was figuring out his sexuality. There is no details but it might be read as lack of consent, though it was more likely a lack of care.

little by little by mediawhore [t] [4.7 words, one-shot]

summary:

‘Some wounds never vanish. Yet little by little, I learned to love my life.’ Mary Oliver Or Buck & Tommy, during and after the wedding.

you've got the love to see me through by emquin [g] [4.7 words, one-shot]

summary:

Tommy's POV throughout 7x06 where he's mostly just exhausted.

down, down, down by sketchytaco [t] [6.2 words, 4/4 chapters]

summary:

He rubs the smudged words on his chest more and more he gets older, wondering where his soulmate is. Wondering if they're thinking of him, if they're close. He wonders what they look like, what they sound like. If they've always been out, or if they're hiding, or even if its someone who hasn't figured themselves out yet.

five ways to fall in love with the man in the mirror by evcndiaz [m] [1.9 words, one-shot]

summary:

Buck meets God at a gay club. He finds him in an oil-slick puddle on a damp night, neon lights reflecting off the kaleidoscopic liquid in the parking lot. or; Evan Buckley falls in love with himself.

raspberry by evcndiaz [e] [4.4 words, one-shot]

summary:

“do you want to dance with him?” evan raises an eyebrow. “i want to dance with you.” tommy sways forward, nudging his thumb up underneath evan’s jaw so he can tilt his face up and to the side where the man is dancing against some young twenty-something that thinks they have a chance. and hell, maybe they do. but tommy’s not interested in the kid, not tonight at least. he drops his voice, hand snaking down to evan’s ass so he can pull him close. “let me change that: do you want me to see you dancing with him?” evan shivers. bingo. or; sometimes three isn't a crowd. or x2; buck, tommy, and a gay club. things get messy. literally.

evan, elated and euphoric by brewrosemilk [e] [16.5 words, one-shot]

(log in to read it)

summary:

For a moment, that’s all that seems to echo inside of Buck’s head, more than ever before; you have a man on top of you, you are kissing a man; you’re touching a man, and he’s touching you, and you like it. Buck likes it - not just being with Tommy, being with a man - that part is obvious, but he… likes that he likes it. He loves that he likes it. Truthfully, he doesn’t think that he has ever felt more at home in his own body than he does in this very moment.

a (not so) new hoodie by littlebipolarsunshine [g] [2.8 words, one-shot]

summary:

In which Buck doesn't look very closely when putting on a hoodie before going to work.

learning to fly by captainmintyfresh [m] [56k words, ?/8 chapters]

summary:

A fic inspired by the 7x05 promo Tommy gives Buck the love he deserves. AKA Tommy goes from 0 to whipped as fuck real fast.

#bucktommy #911 abc #otps #911 fanfic

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offside-the-lines · 6 months ago

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MattDrai Fic Recs

So @irrelevanttous and @puckthisshift sent me the ask meme prompt for "what my favorite Mattdrai fic is" and I went on a JOURNEY lemme tell ya. I ended up figuring out how to download my AO3 history (in which I discovered that in the last year, I've read like literally 50% of all the MattDrai fics ever written) to help me figure out what my faves were. So here are some (most? I hope?), split into categories.

General Faves:

head above water by yourblues (@msmargaretmurry) 🔒 (E, 91.1k) This might be one of the best pieces of RPF ever written; it's a classic. I have visited this fic literally 21 times. It has everything: stupidity, pining, incredible sex, falling for each other, also more stupidity. Chapter 6 literally rips my entire soul out every time. I think this fic permanently altered my brain chemistry. It's a perennial re-read.

only fools rush in by @bropunzeling 🔒 (E, 94.9k) This is another fic that is a Must Read for HRPF as a whole. The entire time, I just want to reach through the screen and wring both of their necks for being so incredibly dense. And I love everything about this, especially just the way it's written is so incredible.

Growing Into Someone by @blaahaj 🔒 (E, 46.5k) God, I love this fic so much, I come back to it all the time. I think this must've been one of the first Mattdrai works I read. But I just love how natural the initial tension is, and how inevitable their falling in love is, and how the climax happens and resolves is just so incredible.

Undo Falling for You by crookedsilence (@csblogs) 🔒 (T, 16.1k) This is an AU I guess? I put it in this section because it's Hanahaki, so like only kinda AU. Either way, I am obsessed with this! It is just emotionally perfect. Highly recommend.

rough dream? by reticent 🔒 (M, 7.2k) So, this fic is probably the most "out there" suggestion because of the warning (I'll get to that part) but this fic is literally the most perfect microcosm of what Mattdrai fics tend to have: pining, lack of communication, falling in love while being terrified of falling in love, etc. This is a time loop fic where Matthew is stuck in the time loop but it's told from the perspective of Leon. It is absolutely incredible. I think about this fic ALL THE TIME. The warning is for a suicide, but no "actual" character death because the time loop resets.

i'll tell you when to stop by dogjuice 🔒 (E, 39.6k) (McMattDrai) This is the real answer to 'what fic do you send people if they want to get into MattDrai'. I have sent this to so many people because it is perfect. Everything about this is perfect. Matthew's internal dialogue and his anxiety, and his perception of what's happening. The second half of the fic is so well-written and suspenseful. Something I feel it will give me a heart attack even though I've read it like 10 times.

Future Fics

Saving the Best for Last by @puckingtrash 🔒 (E, 100.1k) This is the fic that made me obsessed with Future Fics of current rivals. There's just a level of camaraderie and understanding that happens after that many years in the same league; it doesn't matter how much beef you had. And this fic is just so incredible. I love thinking about what these guys do after retirement. A must read IMO.

home by now by daisysusan (@hopetorun) 🔒 (E, 102.3k) Probably one of the best fics. I love the way this builds up and keeps you on edge. It really mirrors how Matty feels, just this general unease of knowing something is wrong but not knowing what. The laying of the pining with the hurt and confusion is just so well done.

back to where we lasted by @ohtemporas 🔒 (E, 34.4k) Trade fics are always so interesting with these two. Especially in the situation where they are exes. And one of them (Leon in this case) has fucked up greatly, and they need to figure out how to get past it because neither of them are over it. Or in this case, figure out how to do it again, but properly.

Old Flames Burn Brighter by @cisumox (E, 25k) I love this fic so much because of the way they are both clearly affected by what happened and how much they still want to love each other. I think about this one al the time. Warning: this does involve a career ending injury.

settle down in the Sunshine State by @puckthisshift 🔒 (E, 14.7k) This has my fave Mattdrai trope where one of them is a fucking idiot, and is so in their head about it. And they have absolutely no idea what literally every single other person knows. In this case, it's Matthew. I absolutely love this fic. I read it all the time.

gather your broken lessons and move by rumandwhine 🔒 (E, 30.5k) This one is super interesting because it doesn't involve a trade, or them in the same place. It is the same as it was before, but different. How are they doing to figure out what went wrong and how are they going to make sure they don't make the same mistakes? They are older now, but are they any less stupid. Keep reading to find out. (Also featuring an absolutely hilarious situation with Drai and his rookie).

AUs

linger by @bropunzeling 🔒 (E, 65.5k) (Omegaverse) This is another all timer. It is so incredible: the way they are just so inexplicably drawn to each other, and obsessed but so worried about their obsession. And the way Leon treats Matthew as something really special from the beginning (and how Matthew just doesn't seem to pick up on that). The way that things build towards the climax, with the ASG 2023 moment (which makes me want to rip my eyeballs out every time; it HURTS). It has all the best parts of omegaverse and explores their relationships with their dynamics so thoughtfully.

whatever promises I made by @puckthisshift 🔒 (E, 360k) (Omegaverse) Yet another all timer for the genre as a whole. The way that omegaverse is explored here is so interesting. It was the fic that really got me on board with the AU. It is so core to the way the characters interact with each other and the world, and the inherent traumas it brings really parallels some of the experiences of populations in the real world (e.g. women).

so is the longing by dogjuice 🔒 (E, 44.7k) (Omegaverse) When I tell you I have read this fic sooooo many times. It is so so good (and so hot). Matthew is so incredibly oblivious and Leon is pining so hard and down soooooo bad. I think Leon's love for Matthew can be seen from like Alpha centauri and yet Matthew totally misses it (among other things). This is SO good.

Egos and Eligibility by @puckthisshift 🔒 (E, 91.1k) (Regency & Omegaverse) I will continue to suck up to my good friend Iris LOL. But seriously, I read this before I even knew it was her and I love it so much. I adore Regency Matthew and the way Leon is literally ever MMC from the era (Mr Darcy) is so funny to me (why so pissy Leon). Regency is such a perfect setting for the Omegaverse tropes of courting and, also again, exploring the societal impact of having these dynamics in play. I think the part where Matthew goes into heat is SO funny and well written. Bridgerton wishes.

Royal Pain by lavender_hazyy 🔒 (E, 48.9k) + Sequel Rules of Engagement (E, 37.8k) (Medieval/Royalty/Bridgerton/Robin Hood) That sounds like the most bonkers combination of things, but it's truly so so so good. I recommend this one SO much. It's so much fun to read, and their interactions are so funny. Poor Connor is always experiencing the Horrors in the background. Everything about this is perfection. THE FUCKING LOVE LETTERS OMG.

bittersweet and strange by @puckthisshift 🔒 (E, 53.4k) (Fairytale Curses) Will I ever stop thinking about this? Probably not. :) I think so much of this is a metaphor for the "beast" that Matthew portrays himself to be (maybe believes himself to be) irl. Also, I will never get enough of Taryn as a character; she is just incredible. I will literally never forget the reveal at the end (and ever villain I ever write will be henceforth inspired by you). (Also, curly haired tiger Matthew, you will always be real to me. Leon + me *handshake emoji* wanting to tough Matthew's fur).

I honestly don't even think this is ALL of the Mattdrai fics I think about regularly/reread regularly. But these are at least a lot of them. There are also so many good recommendation lists on this website when you search for "mattdrai fic recs" that will include even more fics than the ones I've selected.

Legitimately, thank you to all Mattdrai writers out there for being the fucking GOATs. I don't know what I would be reading if not this.

#mattdrai #hockey rpf #fic recs #mcmattdrai #hrpf #fic rec

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astarionancuntnin · 6 months ago

Text

Die For You

summary: the ascension changed the person Astarion was, or so you believed. you broke up and parted ways after defeating the netherbrain, thinking it was for the best, but when you see him again 6 months later at the reunion, you realize you never truly moved on.

and it seems neither did he.

rating: E

word count: 3.9k

pairing: astarion x you (fem!reader) (fic wide), shadowheart x you (chapter 1 specifically)

cw: 18+. angst, smut, porn with plot, porn with (some) feelings, ascended astarion, bad breakup, awkwardly avoiding your ex, alcohol induced sex, rebound sex (in the sense that youre trying to forget about your ex but you might have feelings for that other person too), oral sex, fingering, stalking, kidnapping, mild violence.

a/n: i have been working on this for over a month now, i have 2 other chapters also ready BUT im undecided on which ending i want for this, so yall get chapter 1 as a teaser, let me know whatcha think :eyes:

a/n²: this is the start of a long fic (my first one, phew)! i intend to update it weekly-ish, i GREATLY appreciate comments as it helps me test the waters on whats to come with it

Masterlist

read on ao3

next chapter

or keep reading down below~

I like (I like) what you like (what you like) Long hair (no bra) that's my type (that's right) You just told me, want me to fuck you Baby, I will 'cause I really want to

The ascension was complete. He actually went through with it. 7000 souls, gone.

Astarion, The Vampire Ascendant.

He convinced you that it’s what was necessary. You thought this would bring him peace. It’s what he wanted. You loved him, and you would’ve gone to the ends of the world for him; in your eyes, after everything he'd been through, it's what he deserved.

“I can hear it at last, how all the lowly creatures of this plane are begging to serve.”

But now that it was done, you couldn’t tell if he was still him. If the vampire before you was still the same you spent that first night in the woods. That same one who admitted to have fallen for you. The same one who thanked you for taking a stand against Araj at Moonrise Towers. And if he wasn’t, who was he now? Did he have anything left from his previous self? And could you still love him if he didn’t?

"The world will stir in fear."

The walk back to camp that day was dreary. As Astarion walked ahead of everyone with his newfound confidence, you were dragging your feet behind the rest of your party. The weight of what you had done, slowly setting in. Your friends asked about your well-being and you reassured them all that everything’s fine! It was just a big day! And you simply couldn’t wait to finally rest. You didn’t have the heart to admit that you were regretting what you had encouraged Astarion to do.

Back at the Elfsong, you wave to your companions an early good night as you are heading to bed, before Astarion pulls you aside.

“My consort, we are so close to our triumph, I can almost taste it.” Even his tone was different. What you used to qualify as theatrical was now leaning towards dramatical.

You freeze and look at him dead in his eyes. Every part of you is looking for any proof at all that he was still himself. After all, you had no way to know if the 7007 souls sacrificed also included his own.

“I think we need to talk,” your voice comes out colder than intended.

“Little love, whatever could be the matter?”

“Just– what in the Hells happened to you in there?” The words come out of their own, tainted with sadness.

“It's quite simple, really: I became a better version of myself. The very best, dare I say. And I have no one else but you to thank for it.”

You cross your arms and evade his eyes, your shame for your actions creeping up on you. “I don’t feel great about it, honestly.”

“Well, what’s done is done, and there’s simply no point in dwelling on the past, is there?”

His disdain for the enormous sacrifice that was made makes you scoff, incredulous. “You’re nothing like the Astarion I knew before.”

“I know. I’m better, stronger than he ever was. Finally free of my past.” He smiles, satisfied. “I’m who I always wanted to be. I have everything I ever wanted, except you, by my side.”

His hand reaches out to you and you quickly understand the offer he’s making: to make you a spawn, his spawn. The whole situation is bittersweet to you; of course you’ve always wanted what he wanted, what was best for him, and you would've spent your lifetime with him in another context, but with how he turned out following the ascension, this future isn't something you can imagine yourself in. Now that this choice is given to you, you know better than to accept.

You shake your head as you step back, “No… I won’t do it.”

He sighs, dropping his hand to his side, “Seems I misjudged you. I thought we might have a future together, eternity, even. Perhaps you’re not worthy.”

His condescending tone sparks a fury within you. “We’ll defeat the elder brain together. But after that, I want nothing to do with you,” you say as you try to contain the anger rising in your chest. His brows furrow, matching your energy. “So be it. You will regret leaving me, more than anything you live to regret.”

You give him one last angry look before walking to your bed, muttering to yourself as you feel tears swelling up.

“I regret letting you go through with that damned ritual.”

—

You follow through with your promise. With the Netherbrain gone and your tadpoles vanished, nothing kept you together anymore. You parted ways with all your companions, going out on your own, wherever your next adventure guided you. Finally, a normal life, or something closer to it, anyway. You did miss most of them, for what it’s worth; you considered them your family. You often wondered how Wyll and Karlach were faring in the Hells, and how Lae’zel’s quest to take down Vlaakith was going; you even considered offering your help at one point, but after ending things with Astarion, you needed to be alone. The breakup hit you harder than you expected, it left your heart with a void. He looked happy following his ascension, so why couldn’t you be happy for him? Why was this so hard on you? It’s not something you had ever experienced in your past relationships, usually able to move to the next one rather quickly. You didn’t naturally get attached to people, you used to think that nothing lasts forever, and relationships weren’t an exception. This damned vampire proved to you once again that you were right, although you wished for once you weren’t. He took up all your thoughts, and you had to do something to wash him away.

You occupied your time best by helping people in need, taking bounties left and right, roaming the lands and fighting monsters. When you could afford it, you’d spend the night at the local inn, drinking to numb the feelings. On nights when you were most drunk, you ended up sharing someone else's bed, whoever proposed it to you on those nights. With the alcohol in your veins and your eyes closed, your mind let you believe that you were in his arms again. That it was all a bad dream, and you would wake up next to him, only to be hit by the harsh reality the next morning.

You did anything that you thought would help keep your mind busy. It did work for some time; as long as you were actively doing something – focused on the task at hand – you didn’t think about the past, but the moment night fell and you laid to rest alone, you were back at square one.

You felt guilty about Astarion’s ascension. Guilty of the impact it had on him and your relationship, guilty of the power you let him have and the consequences that it meant. Even guilty of how you felt about it; it was a vicious cycle that plagued you.

It had been your one and only mistake. You let yourself be blinded by the rose-coloured glasses of your love for him, and although you meant well, you’re very conscious of the damage this decision had on him and potentially the city, but also the 7000 souls sacrificed in the process. Granted, they were already spawns and there was no way to save them from this fate, they could’ve at least have had a chance at living in the Underdark. Yes, you had saved the city – damages aside – lifted a curse, freed everyone and yourself from the Absolute, defeated the chosens of the Dead Three, bla bla bla, but your mind always drifted to Astarion’s fate. What if you had stopped him? Surely, your life would be different now. You would be roaming the streets with him, probably. Maybe living together in the Underdark. He would’ve stayed himself. You would’ve been… happier.

When you receive Withers’ invitation to the reunion, it’s the first time in months you’re actually happy, excited even, to see your friends at long last, but also anxious. Your mind drifts to the vampire you used to love. Would you see him at the reunion? Would he have changed at all? How has he been?

Did he still think about you, too?

Looking forward to the night, you treat yourself out to a nice outfit from the local seamstress. You settle on a simple, yet elegant, black long dress with an open back. The summer night is nice and fresh; you’re glad you went for a long sleeved dress. Your hair, which you decided to let down, also partially covers your exposed back, covering you from the breeze. You reach your old campsite to find out you’re the last to arrive, as you see all your friends already mingling. You decide to talk to Shadowheart first, as she was the one you missed the most, as you had grown particularly closer to her during your adventure. In another life, you would’ve been together, you think. You felt bad about not contacting her sooner, but her joy upon seeing you washes away all guilt. She greets you with a smile and a large embrace.

“Come here you! Gods, I missed you!”

You hold her tight, enjoying her strong hug.

“Tell me everything! How have you been?”

“Oh you know, a few killings here and there, little shenanigans all around, I’m sure whatever you have to share is much more interesting.” You wish you could say something different, but your adventures really had been that bland.

She rolls her eyes playfully at your deflection, “And how have you been feeling?”

“Greaaat, every day is a new adventure for me to discover.” You give a poor excuse for a laugh as an attempt to convince her.

She tilts her head forward and raises her eyebrow at you. She knew you better than you gave her credit for. “You know what I meant.” Her gaze points to the side behind you and you give a quick glance to see Astarion disdainfully looking at his surroundings, a silver cup in hand.

You sigh as you turn back to her, the facade falling at once. “I try not to think about it. I… hated what he became, and felt guilty about it. I did take part in it, I could’ve stopped it, but I didn’t.” You cross your arms, recollecting your thoughts. “But I’m starting to think that maybe I jumped to conclusions too quickly when I left him. I miss him and it’s… frustrating. Maybe I shouldn’t have come. Seeing him again so soon is more difficult than I originally thought.”

“Did you talk to him?” “I was actually trying to avoid him,” you confess.

“And you think that's healthy?” “It's the only way I'll be able to move on.”

“And how’s that been going?”

“I–” You’re unable to answer her, the truth being that it was going horribly.

She grabs you by your shoulders, bringing your attention back to her, “Hey, you know if you need anything, I’ll be there for you.” You smile, sheepishly, as she brushes your hair behind your ear, softly cupping your cheek. “And if you’re looking for some company to take your mind off of a certain vampire, well, I would be glad to offer mine.” You get lost in her eyes, with her hand soft and warm against your skin. Her invitation is tempting, and your gaze falls on her lips as you speak up.

“Yeah,” you breathe out. “I wouldn’t mind the company.”

“Come meet me when the party's over.” She smiles back, giving you a quick peck on the cheek before walking away.

You spend the rest of the night catching up with all your friends, always keeping an eye on Astarion, who you notice has been eyeing you as well, as if he was expecting you to approach him, but you never do. You’re convinced nothing good will come out of it and even if you did talk, you’re not sure where you would even begin, so you keep your distance.

As the night settles down, you bid your close friends farewell and sneak out two bottles of wine to share with Shadowheart as she walks you to the inn she’d been staying at. The road is peaceful, and you reminisce about the past with the cleric, indulging in the leftover drinks you stole from the party. When you finally reach the inn, you're both a giggling and stumbling mess, empty bottles of wine still in hand as you enter her room.

As she closes the door behind her, you hear some patrons through the walls yell at you to shut up – it was late and your entrance had been pretty noisy – and you mockingly hush your friend, pressing a finger on her lips.

“Shadoooow, shhhhh” you whisper, your speech slurred. “You’re bothering people.”

“Oh, I’m bothering people? Care to remind me who stumbled their way up the stairs?” She says, laughing, her cheeks blushed by the alcohol.

“Hey– it’s not my fault their steps are so high and your room is so far,” you pout.

“Oh, my apologies,” she takes on a chivalrous tone. “Does my lady require assistance to reach her bed for the night?”

You answer, matching her tone. “That would be most welcome, dearest.”

You squeal as she picks you up in her arms with an impressive strength, and carries you to the large bed. You giggle when she drops you off, and she leans over you.

“Is my lady satisfied with my service?”

You fail to keep a straight face when you answer. “Most definitely. Thank you, my liege.”

She smiles back softly before crashing next to you, both of you staring at the ceiling, taking in the first moment of silence of your night. A second later and your mind is already thinking about Astarion and you sigh heavily. Your companion instantly notices your change of mood.

“It’s him again, isn't it?”

You groan, grabbing your hair in frustration. “Was I wrong? To let him go through with that damn ritual? Why does he get to live his best life and I’m still feeling awful abo–”

She cups your cheek and pulls your face close to hers, cutting you off with a kiss.

“How about we get to work on ‘forgetting about him’, hm?”

You nod slightly as you stare into her eyes, and she grins, her hand curling around your neck before crashing her lips against yours once again. You moan into the kiss, feeling the heat spread across your face and to your chest. Her kisses travel from your jaw down to your neck. She pulls your dress down, gradually exposing your flushed chest, before pulling back to take a good look at you, her own face matching your colour.

“You blush so beautifully.” Her voice is soft like velvet, each word making your heart pounce, as she continues to kiss her way down your navel, eventually discarding your dress on the floor.

You hide your face between your hands, trying to conceal the warmth coming from your cheeks and she comes back up to take your hands in hers, revealing your flustered state.

“You’re too pretty to hide yourself like that,” she reassures you with another kiss. “Let me admire you.”

You struggle to keep eye contact as one of her hands makes its way between your legs, teasing your entrance. Her fingers slide easily between your folds, earning her a moan out of you. She finds your clit and rubs you softly, your entire body twitching in reaction to her touch, and you shut your eyes to focus on the feeling, throwing your head back. Shadowheart takes this chance to trace the curve of your breast with her tongue, closing her mouth on its peak and sucking over it. Her tongue works wonders on you, and you whimper as she lightly bites you.

“Keep singing for me,” She says between kisses, her voice thick with lust. “I love the sound of your voice.”

Her name on your lips is like a prayer as she ravishes your breast, leaving a few love bites over your chest. She pulls back temporarily to remove her own clothing before climbing back in bed, resting between your legs. You barely manage to raise yourself up when she pushes you back down against the bed.

“Lay down love, and let me take care of you. Just the way you deserve it.”

She throws your legs over her shoulders and kisses the inside of your thighs, leaving more love bites and she makes her way to your cunt. Her tongue finally finds its way between your folds and she laps at your juices, making sure to lick you clean.

“Gods, you taste divine.”

Her hands dig in your thighs as she devours you and you arch your back at the sensation, taking in the feeling of her tongue entering you. Your hips soon follow the movement, wanting more contact, and she takes the hint, moving to your clit to give it the attention it deserves. You whine when she enters you with a finger, and a second one, slowly thrusting into you, as her tongue circles your sensitive bud. Your chest rises higher and faster as your breathing quickens, and she knows you're close. Your eyes are long gone, but she looks up to you, admiring your state before she speaks up.

“Let it go, love. Come for me.”

She sucks once more on your clit, her fingers pushing harder against that sweet spot inside of you. You throw your head back, grabbing the bed sheets at your sides as you scream her name with the remaining air in your lungs and a crashing wave of sensations washes over you. For a moment, your mind goes blank, there's nothing but pure bliss. You want to stay like this forever; finally at peace, content. As you come down from your high, your legs give out and you pant excessively, trying to catch your breath.

You feel the bed shift beside you and open your eyes to see Shadowheart lazily making her way next to you.

“But– what about you?” you ask, breathless and tired.

“You don’t think I enjoyed myself just now?” She laughs and kisses you. “You’re simply adorable.” She cups your cheek lovingly, brushing your hair away.

“Tonight was all about you. Plus, I doubt you'd be able to accomplish anything in the state you're in. You can always make it up to me another night,” she grins and boops your nose, smiling tenderly, before snuggling against you.

You watch her as she drifts to sleep next to you, moments before you cave into your own exhaustion. For the first time in months, you get a good, restful night of sleep.

When morning comes, you’re awakened by a god-awful headache, the consequences of last night’s drinking catching up to you. On the bright side, you find Shadowheart wrapped around you from behind, with her face nuzzled in your neck. You smile and hold on to her arm around your waist, linking your fingers with hers. She awakens soon after and greets you with kisses on your shoulder. You turn around to properly kiss her good morning, but the pain throbbing in your head has you groaning and holding your head instead. She catches on quickly and casts lesser restoration on you, fixing your headache instantly.

“Thank you, doc.” You sigh, content, and turn your head to face her. “How will I ever repay you?”

“I'm sure you'll think of something.”

“Mmh, I might have an idea.”

“Oh?” She chuckles. “Colour me intrigued.”

You flip yourself above her, pinning her down before kissing her lovingly. When you pull away, you find her looking at you with the same lust she had for you the night prior. Her eyes fall on your lips before she speaks again.

“You should follow me on my next adventure. I think it would help you clear things up.”

You pull back, now sitting on her, as you take a moment to answer. “I have a few errands to run, but I might take you up on that offer.”

“I still have the room for a tenday,” she raises herself up on her elbows and gives you a pensive look before continuing her thought. “Let me know when you make up your mind.”

You get dressed up and kiss her goodbye, eager to go back to your own inn to get changed and take a much deserved bath. Since the room you had rented was yours for a few days, you might as well take the chance to shop around while you were there; you were in dire need of new equipment for your next adventures. You spend those days getting upgrades for your gear, and visiting the city. Day after day, something felt odd; you had the weird feeling that you were being watched. Every time, nothing would happen, and neither did you see anyone suspicious, but the feeling never left. One night, as you were making your way to your inn, that feeling only got stronger. The streets weren’t busy per say, but everyone you could see was minding their business, discussing amongst themselves. You pressed ahead to reach the inn faster; maybe it was all in your head, but just in case your intuition was right, you didn’t want to take any chances.

As you turn the corner to take a shortcut in a back alley, two figures block your path. In the dark of the night, you can’t make out their identities, but their threatening auras are enough to make you back away. You bump into two more imposing shadows, somehow having managed to sneak up behind you, who quickly grab your arms before you can think of escaping. You try to fight against them but their combined forces pin you down almost completely. You were strong, you shouldn’t have had any issue fighting them off, but their strength almost felt… surnatural. If you had learned one thing during your misadventures, it was that when brute strength wasn't an option, you had to aim for their egos.

“Come on, four against one? How's that fair? Are you so weak that you can't face me alone? Let me get the chance to fuck you up, one after the other.” You smile cheekily, your blood running hot, ready for a fight. Karlach would be proud.

The bandits remain unphased by your taunting, with only one of them answering to your banter.

“We won't fight you. Our Master requested that you be brought alive.”

“Aw, poor lil pup can’t do anything without its master's permission,” you say, mocking them, and you laugh disdainfully at them. “You’re fucking pathetic.”

The figure moves towards you and you’re slapped with a strength that would’ve made you fall to your knees, had you not been held by the two other goons.

“ENOUGH!” Another figure speaks up. “Remember the Master mentioned that she be left unharmed.”

You lift your head back up, your breathing ragged by your furor. “How about you bring me to that master of yours so I can show him who he’s messing with?”

You wish you could take back your words as another figure appears, stepping out from the shadows, this one all too familiar.

“Hello, my sweet.”

I bet they planned it all out like the shows Went everywhere I go Walked in the store right behind me Stood in line right beside me and followed me to my home I'm sure they figured it out early on That I would never run That they could shoot, but that's no fun 'Cause then they're killing the stolen son, oh

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e-rated-beardo · 16 days ago

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Do we need another voice added to the conversation about The Thing? I guess it can't hurt.

I have about every feeling on Earth. I'm frustrated it's going to be shorter than we thought. I'm wary, because we've all learnt this year that a green light can be un-green-lit with no warning. I'm so relieved they've removed That Guy. I'm relieved we're getting something. I'm angry that That Guy had to secretly be a shit (judging from the info I have) which has caused all this bloody anxiety for all of us IN ADDITION to the actual proper shit things he's done to others in the past (given the info I have) and that his shittiness is going to sully people's enjoyment of this thing in big or small ways. I'm cautiously optimistic that we might get something faster, because fewer minutes means quicker work, maybe. I'm worried (as I always was) that it isn't going to be what I've hoped for. I'm frustrated that it's still so very quiet in media regarding what That Guy has done and mildly worried his ex-fans might never know a lot of things that might have led to closure.

I've never been in fandom before this and I have a vague understanding of how lucky I am that this was the one that sucked me in. I'm told not all fandoms are created equal. This one is a bloody marvel. A real fucking marvel. I'm not talking about the art and writing (which are just fantastic like I can't believe), but about how last night I first read The News in a Discord server and thus had other fans Feeling All The Feelings around me right from the start; how I went on Tumblr and found the early discussions and shock and complicated emotions from people whose handles mean something to me, and how I went on Reddit and saw other people gif-screaming in frustration while simultaneously trying to comfort each other. This is such a wholesome place. HOW is this such a wholesome place. Can we keep cultivating this? All of this? Keep welcoming the randos posting on Tumblr about experiencing the Final Fifteen for the first time with avalanches of emoji hearts and fanfic? Keep patiently explaining and re-explaining new and confusing news to commenters who haven't heard all of them yet? Keep showing strangers how to code on AO3 or how to be a lovely fanfic reader or introduce them to the metas people thought up in 2015 or encourage them to post their own loving, scrunckly first art piece and give them love and appreciation for it?

We've Had A Fucking Moment Year, haven't we? And somehow, as an overall experience, to me, this has been an absolute GOOD. Because there's a whole bloody world of other obsessed folks around me now, feeling the same conflicted feelings as I do, largely speaking, and mulling them over in open blogs and private servers and fanfics and comics and DMs.

I don't know half of you half as well as I should like; and I like less than half of you half as well as you deserve. (Or more than half of you, more likely. We're not Hobbiton.) I really like y'all, anyway. You're neat. Can we be frembs? ❤️

If you want a little comfort fanfic escapism, I'm told this 7k-word, E-rated silliness I made once is a balm for S2-related wounds. (There's a podfic of it, too.) This thread on GOAD cropped up with great timing yesterday and is full of people's comfort fic recs. There's tons more of this everywhere. This fandom, man. This fandom. 🖤🤍

#good omens #good omens fandom #GOS3 #season 3 #good omens news #wholesome #cw: neil gaiman #i hate tagging him but yeah #great PUSTULENT MANGLED BOLLOCKS to *flails hands* this general thing #and also: great love to the fandom for *flails hands* EVERYTHING #this turned into a whole essay #i am turning soft #please help me turn more soft <3

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lorelune · 7 months ago

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dreamer's envy

|| dan heng x reader || E/18+ || first time, comfort, lore || wc: 13.4k || ao3 ||

Dan Heng is haunted by the memories of a man he no longer is. You are all to willing to help him.

minors, antis and ageless blogs dni

notes: ahhh!!! beloved dh... df... yx... this fic is a bit of a love letter to reader insert character studies and ship fic. making my two faves kiss on the mouth fr. thank you so much to @yinyuedijun for beta reading along the way!! hope you enjoy 💗

CW: reader is referred to with they/them pronouns and afab anatomy, previous dan feng/yingxing, descriptions of gore, descriptions of intimacy issues, author-created lore (plot crafted prior to penacony release), interpretations of HCQ lore, multiple characters experiencing post-trauma

NOTE: this piece is written in two points of view. one is from dan heng’s perspective, where the “you” he is referring to, is you, as in the reader. the other perspective is second-person pov where the narrator ('you') is dan feng. in these portions, 'you' have a cock and the assorted anatomy. these portions are written in italicized text.

Your hands shake. Your thighs tremble. Yingxing lays between them, your cock nestled in his mouth. It’s not sizable enough to hit the back of his throat, but Yingxing, ever the sensitive man, still has tears pricking the corners of his eyes. You stifle a moan into your hand, hastily slapped over your mouth.

Yingxing will not have it.

A strong, calloused hand grabs your wrist and yanks it. He pins your hand by your side, intertwining your fingers. He pulls off your cock with spit-slick lips and smiles.

“Beloved,” Yingxing speaks in a purr, soft and gentle and comforting against your ears. “You know I love to hear all of those sounds of yours. You’re not getting shy on me, are you?”

There’s a hint of mischief to his voice. You huff and kick at his back.

“Hurry up,” you snap at him. There's a bite to it; you mean there to be. Yingxing only looks amused by your tone— the only one on the entire Luofu who could possibly look joyful, when met with your distinct ire.

“Can’t I take my time?” Yingxing asks, licking from your balls, to base, to the head of your cock. You’re— wet. Leaking pre down your shaft. “May I undo you, my flower?”

“You’re an awful man. I will have you imprisoned.”

“You’d never.”

“You’re right, I’d do worse.” You have so many ideas brewing behind your eyes— ways to punish this wretched man for toying with you. Treating you so kindly and with such humor and wit. There is no one else like him— no one else in your many, lonely years who has lanced you in the way that Yingxing has. How treacherous of him, to steal your heart.

“You’ll have to tell me all about the ways you’ll punish me,” Yingxing hums, pushing the tip of your cock against his lips. It’s obscene. The skin at the corners of his eyes crinkle. “After you cum down my throat, though.”

Yingxing, that bastard of a man, takes you into his mouth against, bobbing his head, sucking and running the flat of his tongue over the bottom of your cock. It’s too much, all at once—

And how prettily you moan when you become undone (again) under this wonderful, awful man—

✶ ✶ ✶ ✶ ✶ ✶

Dan Heng wakes up with such a start, he nearly vomits. He does dry heave, snatching the conveniently placed trash can nearby and dropping his head inside to sputter. Spit dribbles off his lips and falls in globs to the bottom of the basket.

He sets it aside and rubs the heels of his hands over his eyes.

Again.

Again, again, again— he has these dreams all too often. Of a life that is not his, of a lover that couldn’t possibly, ever be his. They’re visceral, vivid— as though Dan Heng is experiencing them in real time, and they’re not some awful figment that clings from a past life.

They plague him, simply. He hates every moment of them.

The pleasure of them feels poisonous. That man is not him. Yingxing— is not his. The body that writhes and gasps is not his own. He’s an onlooker, a distant stranger looking in on something intimate and dead. It’s torture, really, but Dan Heng is an expert is quiet endurance, so he copes.

He stands, still wearing day clothes, and drags himself from his sleeping bag on the floor. His companions on the Astral Express all stated their initial concern with his choice of lodging and lack of a bed, but they’ve since calmed. Everyone on the Express has their quirks. It’s like how March sleep walks, Stelle occasionally glows from her chest, and you only sleep once every few weeks and never in your own room. Dan Heng enjoys his spot in the Archives due to the various motors and machinery that lay under the floor. It’s warm, far toastier than any other room, or bed for that matter.

(He is not Dan Feng. However, Dan Heng cannot deny that his more draconic instincts are somewhat intact.)

Dan Heng throws on his slouchiest sweater, threadbare and worn, and wanders to the parlor car. An hour or so of pacing usually cures him of any antsiness, and he can nurse a cup of tea while he walks too.

This night, however, you sit in the parlor car as well. Dan Heng slows as he sees you.

You’re— an enigma to him really. Everyone on the express is a bit of a misfit, but you are a newer addition to the bunch, and he and the rest of the crew are still grappling with your oddities.

Dan Heng has, since the moment he first met you, accepted he would never fully understand you. He made peace with it, moved on and has kept his distance except when necessary. It is better this way.

You’re staring, side-long, out of one of the wide windows of the car. Your chin is perched on your palm and your perpetually blood-shot eyes are half-lidded. Dark circles are punched beneath them. You look like shit. You always look like shit, and you have assured the crew that this is normal, despite March’s initial fretting.

When you notice him staring, a kind smile curls on your lips and you wave, good-natured.

“Hey there, sleeping beauty. Are you doing alright?”

“I’m fine.” It’s not the first time you two have met like this. The Parlor Car is empty, except the two of you and the dimly glowing whale fixture that hangs from the ceiling. It feels familiar, much more comfortable than the... unwelcome familiarity of his own dreams. “I’m just fetching a cup of tea.”

“Ah, a night cap?” You hum, and crack your neck. “Sounds needed. That last dream of yours was wild.”

Dan Heng frowns, “I’ve asked you before to quit that, please. It’s invasive.”

“I would if I could,” You shrug. “But, I can’t. Besides, your dreams are loud, Dan Heng. I’d be unable to ignore them even if I was at the back of the train.”

“Can you at least not mention them?”

“I mean, I can not. But... they clearly upset you, don’t they?” You tilt your head, eyes soft. “Would you like to talk about them at all? I don’t mind listening.”

“They aren’t your concern.”

“I’m aware of that, but that doesn’t stop me from caring. I know they’re distressing.”

“You’re prying.”

“I’m asking, Dan Heng.” You sound a little desperate. Standing, you pass by him, in the direction of the passenger car. “You can say ‘no, my fellow Nameless, I would like you to never speak of me and my upsetting sex dreams,’ and I won’t ever mention them again. I don’t mean to be a thorn in your side, but the past is easier to bear in the present if you can lean on folks.”

Dan Heng is silent, stewing and stirring under his skin.

By the time he has a reply formulated, you have left the parlor car. The only sign that you’d ever been there to begin with is a patterned knit blanket left where you were sitting.

Dan Heng snatches it up before he can convince himself not to and returns to his room to add it to his ground-bound nest.

...

Welt had found you outside of a space station, idling around a refueling station. You’d been wearing a dirty utility jumpsuit with the emblem of some IPC-owned subsidiary screen-printed on the pocket. Your eyes had been glassy and far away. When Welt asked if you were alright, you had smiled and told him, “Actually, I’ve never been worse.”

The Express loves strays. It’s ultimately what he, Stelle, and March are. Welt to some extent as well, especially considering his several layers of mystery. Himeko has the disposition of a kind leader and the heart of a mother, and for all of Pom Pom’s fretting, they are always interested in a new face aboard the Astral Express, for however long they choose to be there.

It’s sensical that you were given a shower, a hot meal, and a room before you even fully understood what you were signing up for with the Express.

Dan Heng was, notably, wary of you. It was the way you looked at him after the first night you slept on the Express (one where he had predictably been plagued with images of a body that wasn’t really his being fucked and loved in a way Dan Heng couldn’t conceptualize his actual self receiving). There was clear concern etched in your expression, however you never voiced it. Not at first.

It was only after a few weeks that March pointed out you hadn’t slept since your arrival that you revealed your hand.

A bloodline blessed by the Aeon of Dreams, Sacha.

Dan Heng had heard of the Aeon, distantly. A seldom-traveled path, one for those with imagination run wild and a penchant for long naps. There were whispers that the Aeon was asleep, constantly. Otherwise, dead. Regardless, you bore the Godbeing’s blessing in some way.

You revealed this during a routine coffee break, just before Welt, March and Stelle descending to a little sandy moon. Perched on a chair, legs curled over your chest, you’d laughed when March pointed out your lack of good sleeping practices.

“I don’t need to, so I tend not to. It’s a difficult habit to break.”

You had explained to Dan Heng and Himeko that you and your kin, a race descended from a small planet from a dead solar system, all bear this blessing. No need for sleep and—

“I perceive the dreams of others.”

Dan Heng had questioned, immediately— “Perceive?”

“That’s the best way to put it.” You meet his eye and you look slack in your shoulders. Unbearably calm and tired. “What you dream, I experience along with you. The more I focus in, the more vivid it is.”

(Dan Heng is horrified and doesn’t speak to you for a week.)

After some significant, quiet panic, Dan Heng had politely asked you to not perceive his dreams if you could help it.

You’d told him you’d do your best.

And Dan Heng— appreciates the effort. Even if it's clear it's not working. You are so often up when he rises for his customary tea and jaunt, and tend to prod him a little. At least stop him to chat for a moment or tea. You’ll sneak in a cheeky comment or two, usually, but they’re so quick Dan Heng can’t do much more than blush and stumble over his next sentence.

You look highly amused and soft, those nights.

You never ridicule him, which he appreciates. More often you look pleasantly neutral, as if trying to emulate the aura of a familiar house plant near a skittish black cat.

(Dan Heng knows he is the skittish black cat.)

It’s— too much really. Dan Heng would rather bear it alone, take his cup of tea and do his laps, but he also can’t find it in him to tell you off too harshly. You tend to favor the parlor car, anyway. You get lost in the stars and galaxies they traverse easily. It would feel cruel to ask you to sequester yourself to your room simply so Dan Heng can brood more effectively.

Dan Heng does not know what to do about his own haunting (arousing) dreams, nor does he know what to do with you and your unfazed smiles.

...

You straddle Yingxing’s lap, thighs tense as you roll your hips. Your lover’s length grinds inside of you, stroking something small and hot and so good you could get drunk on it. You chase the sensation, selfish. Your hands are braced behind you, on Yingxing’s thighs as he is sprawled below.

His cheeks are flushed and his hair is a knotted mess. A hastily ripped piece of fabric binds Yingxing’s wrist together and secure to the stained wood of the bed frame. You were kind enough to carefully pull out his favored hairpin (a gift, one you commissioned him to make... for himself. Without his knowledge. Yingxing was moderately huffy about it until you tucked it into his hair yourself.) and set it aside.

Yingxing is not a weak man, but you are a Dragon, and therefore keeping him restrained and tethered is not difficult. Usually, you allow Yingxing the privilege of carving out your insides at his leisure and pace. There’s a sweet torture to it you have found yourself having grown fond of.

There is no other soul, mortal or otherwise, short-lived or long-lived, that you would allow to exert such control over you. Yingxing is an exception for you in so many ways. How dear this (foolish) craftsman has become to you.

“B-Beloved,” Yingxing’s voice is tight, strained. There’s sweat beading on his temples. “Might I persuade you into moving?”

You hum. Your tail wraps around his leg, from ankle to thigh and squeezes. The feathered tail flicks at Yingxing’s tense muscle and he jolts under you. A glittering laugh leaks from the corner of your mouth.

“Persuade me then.”

“Y-You’re not making this easy, are you?”

“I told you I wouldn’t. And you still agreed.”

“I thought the great Yinyue Jun would grant me some mercy at least. Excuse my wishful thinking. I thought that my dearest husband would forgo being a brat for at least a single night—”

You scoff.

You roll your hips, slow and deliberate. Yingxing’s words are cut off, killed in his throat as his eyes roll back into his skull. Keeping your core tight, you bury his cock in your hole to the hilt. You’re flush together, panting. It’s a tight squeeze, it always is. But the slight burn is familiar and welcome as you throw your head back and moan.

The sound is sin. If any of the Preceptors knew what this man did to you, he’d be drowned in Scalegorge within the day.

Yingxing curses in a tongue you don’t know— it’s his mother’s language, he once told you. He tries to buck up into your heat, but you hold him down and steady. Clicking your tongue and racking your nails down his chest. Thin welts rise in your wake. Yingxing lets loose a choked gasp as you slide down on his cock. The stretch is so, so good. You crave this ache. You fantasize about it when you surely shouldn’t. It haunts your—

Dreams?

✶ ✶ ✶ ✶ ✶ ✶

Dan Heng wakes up so hard it physically hurts. He gasps, muffling a half-there sound into his pillow. It’s shameful. He feels out of his mind as he flips onto his stomach and ruts into his nest of blankets. The friction is dry, scratchy, and barely enough. However— the phantom sensations of a dead lover crawl over him. Nostalgic and tragic and nauseating.

He comes with a sob that he prays no one hears. He stains the front of his boxers as he grinds his oversensitive cock against the wet fabric. It’s too much. He’s too sensitive. It hurts, but Dan Heng doesn’t know what else to do.

He feels ashamed as he sits up and runs a hand over his face.

It’s usually not this bad. Usually he can will away any arousal with logic. Reminding himself that the pleasant touch and face he remembers is long gone and was never his to have to begin with. Only on a few occasions has he woken up disoriented enough to forget himself to actually get off.

He needs to shower.

Dan Heng blearily leaves his room with his towel slung over his arm. The showers are on the other side of the passenger car. Dan Heng turns the spray on the highest heat, cooking himself as much as he can bear. There’s a latent energy in him that always swirls, begging him to push and pull the water around him, harness it for even a moment—

Before Dan Heng can entertain such things, he exits the spray, flushed bright red with his towel around his waist.

As he exits the shower, he finds you.

You’re perched one of the plush couches, tucked into a nook in the passenger car. Your signature blanket is not with you. You look— like shit. Dark circles stamped but your eyes look alight.

Dan Heng freezes as you notice him.

“... You alright?” You ask him.

“I’m fine.”

“You sure, bud?”

“Yes.”

“Uh-huh.”

”You’re patronizing me.”

You stumble, “I don’t— I don’t mean to. That was just—”

“Please do not—”

“A lot.”

Your cheeks are flushed as you rub at them. Your gaze flits up to his then averts to the floor. You look... shy. It’s an expression he’s never seen you wear before, even when you were pulled onto the express filthy and in a heavily patched jumpsuit.

Something in Dan Heng’s chest squeezes. He doesn’t know what to say. He feels entirely too exposed. He’s not fully dry, and he can feel droplets of water dripping from his hair down to his shoulders. His throat bobs as he gulps you watch the movement with rapt attention.

He coughs.

“I asked you to refrain from viewing my dreams.”

“That one was loud.” You frown. “Incredibly loud. Like banging pots and pans, fireworks and explosives kind of loud. I couldn’t have ignored it, even though I very much want to. I’d love to give you your privacy, Dan Heng, but sadly the intricacies of your mind happen to make your dreams essentially unignorable.”

“Must you comment on them?”

“... I heard you crying after.” Your expression looks uncharacteristically torn up. Your lackadaisical smile and humor are nowhere to be found. “I was worried.”

“I can assure you, I am fine. You don’t need to worry about me.”

“I do, regardless. The whole Express does.”

“I appreciate it. Though, it’s unnecessary.”

“Of course. Sure. Because you’re the paramount example of ‘not needing care’.”

“I’m self-sufficient.” This time, he frowns.

“You are.” You stand up and walk toward him. “‘Sufficient’ implies adequacy, not prosperity.”

“What are you implying?”

Your hands ball into fists at your sides, “That you, Dan Heng, seem like you could use some help. I won’t pry at your past, I’m aware it’s not my place to do so— however routinely having uncomfortably vivid sex dreams about a man who you clearly have complex feelings about, probably isn’t good for you. There’s an inevitable amount of strain. One that I think that you’re ignoring.”

“What help do you think I need?” His voice remains level, but your proximity has him wriggling under his skin.

“... I— could be a decent listener. I have all the time in the world. I’m always around at night.” You struggle to meet his gaze, but after a moment, your usual, easy smile erupts on your face. “Or, would you prefer more... direct assistance? I could help with that too.”

“Speak plainly.”

“Was the last time you had sex with the man in your dreams?”

Dan Heng’s throat closes up. The cloudhymn that are under his skin thrum and encircle him, for just a moment. Your eyes widen at the colors and hum of it and jump back. You almost stumble. The surge of power and energy shakes the passenger car. The whale-shaped light fixtures dance above you.

Dan Heng swallows.

“And if it was?”

You look at him, really look at him, and your eyes soften. Your center looks wide and vulnerable despite the churn in the air, “Then, do you think it could, perhaps, be helpful to add some more recent, pleasurable memories for your dreams to play with?”

Dan Heng flushes so quickly, he feels faint.

The instinctual cloudhymns around him die in an instant. He retreats, a firm grip remaining on the towel around his waist to keep it in place. He mumbles out a hasty ‘goodnight’.

He is unsure if you hear him.

...

In the days that follow, neither Dan Heng nor yourself, bring up your proposition.

The next morning, you look expectedly exhausted, but do not prod or pry at him any further. You sit at the long table for breakfast and munch on a piece of bread and some jam while Himeko goes over your next destination.

The few times you look at him, your smile is lazy and easy, however you turn away quickly.

You continue to skillfully avoid him.

Dan Heng— feels a bit bad about it. Maybe a lot. If he enters common spaces like the parlor car or dining car, you quickly leave after a peripheral greeting. You must be doing so as to not tip off the rest of the crew that there’s some amount of… tension between the two of you. Under different circumstances, Dan Heng would have appreciated the purposeful discretion, however something about it irks him.

The Express’s next destination is a repurposed space station at the edge of a solar system. A false sun, powered by a Stellaron— something to that effect. Stelle’s bodily composition is of some intrigue to the scientists looking to craft a replacement, while other factions wish to harness the Stellaron more directly than a not-so-distant source of light and heat.

Himeko’s engineering expertise is being requested, along with Welt’s understanding of Imaginary energy. March wants to go due to the complex system of bioluminescent algae that teems in the space station’s plentiful aquaponics infrastructure. (“It looks so pretty! I need photos!”)

There are very few reasons for Dan Heng to accompany them; the party’s already full. There are even fewer reasons for you to join, who, despite all of your assurances, looks particularly haggard and worse for wear. Both March and Himeko mother hen you into staying aboard the Express to keep Pom Pom company.

Dan Heng should make an excuse to leave as well. Something in his gut tells him it would be best to keep his distance from you.

(It would be easier that way.)

However, Dan Heng finds himself waving goodbye to his companions as they dock at the small port. Pom Pom has requested at least a single treat from their excursion while they wave exuberantly from his side.

You stand on Pom Pom’s right, lazily waving as well. Your shoulders are slumped.

As Pom Pom aways to dust the fixtures in the parlor car, Dan Heng faces you and speaks without thinking.

”You should rest.”

You blink owlishly at him. “… That’s not necessary.”

”You don’t look well.”

”You’re quite the charmer, aren’t you?”

”I am being serious.”

”So am I.” You roll your eyes and shrug.

You attempt to walk away from him, but Dan Heng finds himself reaching out to grab your arm. His hand wraps around your forearm securely, firmly.

You still, wide-eyed.

”You can sleep, can’t you?”

”… I mean, yes?” You frown, glancing at his hand then back to his face.

“Would it help?”

”Help what?”

Dan Heng deadpans. “You’re exhausted.”

”… Dearest Dan Heng, I am always in this state. I apologize if my withered countenance has caused you grief. I am fine.”

You attempt to wrench your arm from his grip, but he doesn’t let you go. Your frown deepens.

“Being intentionally daft isn’t wise.”

You stare at him, “I’m not being ‘intentionally daft.’”

”I beg to differ.”

You mutter something in a tongue that Dan Heng doesn’t recognize. “What’s your deal? I apologize for getting into your business previously. I have been trying to give you ample space and shut out your dreams to the best of my ability. Is that not enough?”

”No.” No, no, no— that’s not really. It. Dan Heng isn’t sure what it is, but at this moment, his mood has little to do with your knowledge of his horrible, awful, persistent wet dreams, but something else. “I’m not upset at you for that.”

You stare and your hands ball into fists, “So, you’re really pestering me over my well-being?”

”Yes?”

”Aeons, Dan Heng.” You say his name in a croon and it makes him shudder. He wants to scream. “It really isn’t a big deal.”

”Is it straining you to not… perceive my dreams?”

Your expression goes blank. “I mean. Yes. But, it’s not a big deal—“

“You look awful.”

”You can’t have both.” You are clearly frustrated. Dan Heng’s grip is unrelenting. “I can’t— I can’t attempt to block out your silly sex dreams without a not-insignificant amount of effort. I’m either going to be very keyed into that pretty silver-haired man who you clearly wish was in your bed, or I’m going to look a bit more worse for wear. The latter, Dan Heng, does not bother me. Fretting over me isn’t going to make me less worn down.”

”And you just… don’t care that you’re tired?”

“I’m always tired.” You smile then, the same lazy, curling quirk of your lips that you so often wear, ever since the Express dragged you aboard from that rest stop. Dull-eyed and wearing a filthy utility jumpsuit. “I don’t want to cause you all any additional grief. I wish you wouldn’t worry about me.”

Dan Heng doesn’t know what to say.

“... That isn’t your choice.” The words feel paltry, half-there.

You pull your arm from his grip, thumbing at the spot where he held you. Your soft day clothes have rumbled under his grip, “That’s hilarious, coming from you, Dan Heng.”

“This is different.”

“How so?”

“Because—” Dan Heng clicks his tongue. Something— something simmers just under his chest. Something bigger than himself, salty like the sea and heavy like green stone that writhes as you stare him down. “Because my dreams are my business. The man— men— in my dreams are my ills to carry. They should not affect my present. You shouldn’t be affected by them.”

“Well, crazy, but I am—” You go nose-to-nose with him and huff. Dan Heng backs into a railing behind him, back curving. “Because I don’t like seeing you in pain—”

Something kicks Dan Heng’s shin and he hisses. You jump away from him with a stumble, looking down at a glowering Pom Pom. Their tail twitches.

“No fighting in my parlor car!” Pom Pom huffs. “Does Pom Pom need to get Miss Himeko’s ‘get along’ shirt?”

“That’s not necessary,” Dan Heng rushes to say.

You’re already walking away, out of the parlor car with a shake of your head and one last wistful look.

...

You tear your heart from your chest.

It is expectedly painful, even if you braced for it. Even if in your deepest meditations, you simulated the pain of such a loss with cloudhymn to prepare for this moment, on the off chance you would need to lose your heart from between your ribs and give it to your beloved. So few of Long’s scions retain the ability to rebirth with multiple hearts— only a handful of high elders, really. You can imagine what they will say about you, think about this act you’re committing.

Sin. And a painful one.

The blade in your hand clatters to the ground as you hold your heart in your own palm. It’s large— a dragon’s heart. It will not fit in the chest of a mortal.

(But, you will make it fit.)

Yingxing is— is— he’s dead. He’s a corpse on the ground below you. One of his arms is missing, while the other is twisted at a most unnatural angle. His star silver hair is a tangled knot in the dirt, Yingxing’s favored hairpin shattered somewhere in the foreground. The color is no longer pure. It’s a dirty scarlet. A mix of your beloved’s blood and Shuhu’s.

Yingxing’s eyes are half open and dull. Purple turned bruised-petal lilac. His lip is split and blood trickles from the corner of his lips,

This is not to say anything about his middle which is—

Not really there.

It makes inserting the heart easier. You think so anyway. Your hands shake (they never have before, not like this) and you cry (you have not cried like this before) as you shove the heart into Yingxing’s necrotic chest. You have to further break his ribs to shove your heart into him. Cloudhymn spins around you— a storm, a gale for you. It dulls the screams from your younger companion begging you to stop. A beast roars in the distance, above it all. The sound makes the air tremble and split. Your ears would bleed, were you a weaker species.

(A necessary sacrifice— she— she was already dead. Past saving. You only have two hearts. One which is yours and one which is now—)

Yingxing’s.

Your beloved flinches. Lurches as unnatural growth burgeons from him. He wails on the ground as magics spin within him. You are doing the most unholy thing to him. But, you must, right? You cannot lose him. You cannot lose Yingxing. You have given everything, always, as every self, to your role and its meaning— can you not have this one thing? May your beloved not stay by your side, however unfair and painful the circumstances?

Unblemished, ghostly pale tissue regrows from Yingxing’s body at an alarming pace. It rejoins his upper and lower halves together as he screams.

Yingxing’s hands wrap around your neck and you’re shoved into the dirt. You are not expecting the force and the impact, even less so. The air knock out of you and the cloudhymns shudder. The magics are thinner for a moment, you could see your other companions if you chose to. You could see how many Xianzhou cloud knights have fallen to the beast you created.

You ignore them.

You ignore them all to look up at your beloved. Eyes now a wild red, teeth glimmering white and stained with blood. His hair has darkened, silver turned dark, like it had been dipped in thick, viscous oil. Yingxing bares his teeth and screams at you.

“WHAT DID YOU DO!”

“WHAT HAVE YOU DONE, DAN FENG!”

—!

✶ ✶ ✶ ✶ ✶ ✶

Dan Heng awakens to a silent Astral Express. The trainship is still docked and it’s running on ancillary power in the meantime.

It’s entirely too quiet. All he can hear is the pounding of his own heart.

He scrambles to grab at his own chest— there’s no gaping hole. There’s no— there’s no blood on his hands (not real, material blood anyway . Various parties would beg to differ as to if he has any actual blood on his hands. But, the past is the past, isn’t it? These dreams are the afterimages of the life of a deadman. That’s all they can be. The man that chases him across the universe bears a different name and a younger face. The man who will always make time for him on a Godship, so very far away, may use his name ‘Dan Heng’, but is that who he truly sees when he looks at Dan Heng?)

Dan Heng dry heaves into his hands.

He barely manages to crawl to the little bathroom attached to his room to puke his brains out. He hasn’t had much of an appetite over the past few days, and most of what comes up is water, pile, and half-digested rice porridge.

By the time he withdraws and flushes, wiping his hand over his mouth, he feels winded. Disgusting. Sweaty and entirely too wet.

Shower.

Dan Heng methodically grabs his few supplies and walks across the silent Astral Express to the showers. He could take a bath— maybe it would help. March keeps minty bath products out and available that are so strong that they tend to pull any of the Express’s passengers out of a funk if used. There’s a little basket of them in the tiled common area of the baths. There’s a hand-written note in March’s perfect scrawl that says “Please take one❤️!)

Dan Heng snatches a few before picking his favored, individual shower. There’s a little atrium before entering the shower itself, where he sheds his drenched bedclothes and hangs them, along with his towel. He turns on the shower and idles for a moment, listening to the dull roar of it.

Water splashes onto him in droplets. There’s a (dormant. Dormant. He swears it’s dormant) instinct to ball the errant water up and toy with it with cloudhymn. The pearl that idles in the center of Cloud Piercer has many different ways to harness its power beyond a weapon of steel that—

(Isn’t his, is it?)

Dan Heng wants to vomit again. He steps into the spray before the nausea overtakes him.

The spray is cold— he usually takes cold showers, regardless of if it’s after a particularly intimate dream. He prefers cold water. He enjoys cold baths, but they’re a luxury he enjoys only once in a while, and usually for the better part of a day. He’ll stay submerged for what would be a worrisome amount of time (if he didn’t bear the spare parts of imbibitor lunae) and, despite his assurances, worries the rest of the crew. As sedentary and reclusive as Dan Heng can be, camping out in the baths for the better part of a day causes a stir amongst the express.

They’re a treat, a bothersome one.

Now, he washes himself thoroughly. It’s a mechanical and rhythmic thing. It soothes him. His breath comes steadier.

Dan Heng hasn’t had a dream that unpleasant in quite some time. He has always had the more gruesome— of tragedies beyond this knowledge. But, they’re rarer. He is haunted more frequently by memories of pleasure and that almost makes the shadow of Dan Feng more cloying. The gruesome are just that— gruesome. He has put together pieces of Dan Feng’s sin, though he refuses to touch the Archive’s documents ported from the Luofu on the subject.

Ignorance is bliss and Dan Heng feels knowledgeable enough. The breach between his own memories and Dan Feng’s is less solid than it once was. Dan Heng will more than likely find out with time.

It despairs him for a moment as he turns off the water and towels off. He feels— more lucid. Better.

He’s surprised that you haven’t sought him out.

There’s— no way you didn’t perceive that dream. Dan Heng can’t be entirely sure what you mean when you call a dream ‘loud’, but he knows the very real pain he felt during it could constitute as such. He listens closely as he dresses in new bedclothes. The Express is still quiet aside from machine hum.

Dan Heng could check on you. He thinks about it. Your room is just past Stelle’s and considering you weren’t in the parlor car, you’re probably there.

You shouldn’t have seen that. But, it’s not like Dan Heng can help it, right?

The tangle of feelings within Dan Heng writhes as he exits the showers. It grows even more unruly as he notes a change in the parlor car.

Resting on one of the plush seats is a hastily folded blanket, a still-steaming cup of tea, and a small, folded note.

Dan Heng approaches and reads.

i’ve noticed you like my blankets. take this one. it’s one of my favorites.

have some tea and rest if you can.

— [name] ╰(*°▽°*)

The penmanship is shaky, and clearly quickly written. None of the paper’s folds match up with each other. There’s a spill of tea on the coffee table that looks half-wiped away.

Something heavy settles in Dan Heng’s gut. He gathers the blanket, the tea, and your note and heads back to the archives with a pit in his chest.

Like he’s still missing a heart.

...

Things come to a head a few days later. The rest of the Astral Express crew is still sorting things on the space station, and you and Dan Heng only have so much space to dodge each other.

And, truthfully? Dan Heng stopped avoiding you the day before yesterday. Now, he is actively (read: passively but passionately) trying to seek you out. This involves listening keenly for when you leave your room, but lately, those trips are few and far between. And always occurring while Dan Heng is asleep. Pom Pom confirms this, looking increasingly uneasy at the clear tension between the two of you.

Dan Heng— doesn’t know what to do. He is good at running from his problems. He put Cloud Piercer through— Blade’s chest any number of times and hopped to the next planet more times than he cared to think about. He ran from the shackling prison, the Luofu, and its General without looking back even in a cursory way. Dan Heng finds sentimentality to be a new feeling, a new fixture within his person and does not know how to handle it. He does not want to run away from you— he wants to run toward you.

The blankets of yours (three in total) are in his nest. He paces the passenger car each night hoping you’ll reveal yourself. He hovers outside of your door, hand poised to knock, but he never does.

He does not know what he’d say.

Dan Heng does not have confidence in his words in that way. He can speak well— it’s an overhang from Dan Feng, and he is grateful for it, but on more than one occasion, March has (rather explosively) shouted at him for being so... blank-faced in the heat of an emotional conflict. The two of them occasionally do butt heads, usually when March is attempting to run headfirst into a situation without proper forethought, and those encounters have ended with March tearfully screaming at Dan Heng to just be “honest with his face!”

His lack of expression is also an overhang for Dan Feng.

No matter how well-crafted his sentences and well-spoken his words, Dan Heng cannot connect them to how he feels... effectively. It’s disjointed. Like armor made with incorrectly sized plates that cannot possibly be pieced together. Clothing created with a misdrawn pattern, never able to be sewn in a wearable way.

If he were to face you, he is certain he will not be able to voice how he feels.

He can at least— do something. Give you something, since you seem so hellbent on leaving him special tea blends you’ve stashed away and BLANKETS.

(Do you have any idea what you’re doing to him?)

Dan Heng stops trying to run from you. He resolves to do something or say something because it's better than the widening rift that’s currently being run through the Astral Express, between the two of you.

Dan Heng gets his opportunity in the late evening. He’d— feigned sleep. Intentionally. A deep state of meditation for long enough that you might think he was enjoying a dreamless night of sleep, however, he’d only be idle, waiting for sounds of any of your activity in the direction of the parlor and meal car.

Dan Heng hears your door slide open down the hall as he sits upright, cross-legged in his nest of many blankets and pillows. Your steps are quiet, the lightest pad against the flooring outside. He strains to hear you.

He does notice, however, how you move even slower as you walk past his door. So clearly intentionally trying to keep quiet for his sake.

Dan Heng waits a few minutes until he’s certain you’re either in the Parlor Car or Meal Car before uncrossing his legs and bounding from his room. He means— to be more put together about this. But, he’s nervous he’ll miss his chance, and you’ll retreat, and be gone for longer—

Dan Heng finds you in the meal car, poking over cold dinner leftovers with a sullen expression. Your brows are heavy, eyes dull. You look— awful. You always look awful, he’s sure you’ll assure him, but now you look bad. You look ill. Unwell. The oversized shirt hanging from your shoulders billows in an uncomfortable way. It has too many undone buttons, leaving a deep v, exposing too much of your chest.

You look up at him, eyes widening.

“I thought you were asleep.” You say softly, putting down the tongs you had been using. You didn’t bother picking up any food, your little bowl is entirely empty.

Dan Heng opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. He snaps it shut a moment later.

Your eyes soften and you sag. You look like you could melt into the Express’s floor at any moment. Your eyes radiate... pity.

“Did I wake you? I try to be quiet.” You laugh, looking sidelong, out one of the many windows. “Sorry about the fuss. I’ll get out of your hair.”

Dan Heng is frozen.

You idle, only for a moment, holding your breath, before shaking your head minutely. It— it makes his palms sweat. You try to shuffle past him. Dan Heng is blocking your only exit, and you attempt to side-step him as he gapes at you, unmoving. Unsure.

Dan Heng grabs you by the forearm as you pass.

He holds you there. Steady. His grip is firm and unyielding. Maybe too tight, based on your sharp intake of breath as you wobble in place. Dan Heng steadies you with his other hand. Without— thinking, his palm lands on your ribcage and you jump with the contact.

You stare at him, wide-eyed.

And you face each other.

“You’re avoiding me.” Dan Heng speaks first. His words feel sure, but there’s a sticky feeling in his chest.

“... Perhaps.” You smile easily, despite how worn you look. “It seems like you have a lot on your mind. I didn’t want my presence and what it entails to burden you, dearest Dan Heng. I apologize if that wasn’t clear.”

“What do you mean by your ‘presence and what entails’?”

You look like you’ve been punched. Dan Heng feels ill.

“Exactly what it sounds like.”

“Please be straightforward.

“Kind Dan Heng, I am—”

“Please, explain yourself.” Dan Heng feels— frustration bubble up into the back of his throat. It’s acidic. He looks from the grip he has on your arm to your face, lingering on the chapped lines of your lips before meeting your eyes. “Why do you think you would burden me?”

You look at him sadly, “I thought we’ve been over this.”

“We haven’t, to my knowledge.” Dan Heng frowns. You look like you’ve been slapped.

“I apologize.” You shouldn’t be. “Dan Heng, don’t I know too much?”

He locks his jaw.

You continue. “You’re an incredibly private person. I don’t want to know about a past you’re clearly not comfortable sharing. I cannot help what I am able to perceive, however I can create some distance between the two of us, so as not to suffocate you with the fact that I know about your dirty laundry without your expressed consent.”

Dan Heng’s mouth is dry.

You’re an unbearably earnest individual. As mysterious as you make yourself, you don’t tend to lie. You’re blunt in a way that’s disarming, heart flayed open as if rended with a short, sharp blade, on display for anyone who would like to view and poke at it.

“I apologize for communicating that more effectively,” You add more softly. You place your hand over his, the one bracing your arm. You squeeze. “It must be hard to bear those things, and you’ve made it clear you wish to do so alone. I want to respect that and you, Dan Heng. My door is always open, but I thought it might be easier for you to not... be reminded so easily, by my presence.”

Your eyes are wet as you look away from him, to the floor. You take the smallest, most guarded intake of breath. It looks like you’re trying not to cry.

Dan Heng feels something cold and large in his chest. Big enough to swallow him whole.

He says your name, even and unwavering, with the weight of the sea behind it. You glance up at him, straining to give him your same lazy, forced smile—

And he kisses it off your lips.

It’s not an action Dan Heng thinks about. You’re almost close enough to feel each other’s breath regardless. One moment, he is staring at you with his own frown, and the next his lips are on yours, tilting his head to search for the best angle. The force of the action has you stumbling back into the wall behind you. The hand he kept on your ribs moves to your waist, bracing you.

It takes a moment for you to react. A startled little (whimper, a whimper) sound gets muffled by his lips as he cradles your jaw. Deepening the gesture. You react and— return it. Moving your lips against his, leaning into his grip.

Only to freeze, and shove at his shoulders a moment later, “W-Wait.”

Dan Heng pulls back, panting.

“You don’t have to do this,” you tell him. There’s an urgency in your voice like you’re scared. You nervously run your hands up and down his arms. Dan Heng doesn’t even think you’re aware you’re doing so. “I— I offered sex to you seriously, but— don’t just take my affection because you want to close the distance. There’s other ways to be intimate, you know?”

“I’m aware,” says Dan Heng. Your lips are just barely kiss bruised. He wants to make it worse. It’s an easier expression of the gulf in his chest that writhes with your closeness. “However, I want to fuck you.”

The dullness of your eyes is stolen as they widen. Heat rises in your cheeks. You’re stunned speechless.

...

Dan Heng wants to eat you.

As in, he wants to have you in his mouth, under his teeth and tongue, and get you in his gut so you never go away again. It’s— a draconic instinct. Something carnal and old that could swallow him alive. It is another overhang from Dan Feng. Such bloody impulses aren’t... uncommon for Dan Heng. However, he has learned to temper them with training, combat, and more recently, some expression of cloudhymn.

Never sex, however. Because your initial guess was correct. Dan Heng has not ever had sex, and the last time Dan Feng had had sex, he is fairly certain was a teary, bloody affair with a half-dead, bloodied Yingxing.

This encounter, however, is very different.

There is no swirling Scalegorge and broken, coral-lined streets. There is no sand grating against his knees over Yingxing's almost-corpse. There is no tempest of his own making, cracking the sky in two, and tearing the world asunder.

Rather, there is his nest of blankets and pillows, and your soft body below him. He straddles your waist, protecting the curve of your thighs with his own. The lights of the Archive’s room are dim, the machine hum below is lulling background noise and comforting. And you— you’re warm— not cold or bloodied. Your eyes are soft, but keen in a different way from the man in the echoes of memory. There’s no sharpness to you, not in your words or your presence.

You’re gentle as you cup Dan Heng’s jaw and drag him closer to kiss him.

“You’re thinking pretty hard.” You murmur against his lips. “Are you sure you want this?”

The question makes him— angry. He still doesn’t know how to voice it, so instead he pressed you down into the floor. A bodily expression.

Your hands tangle in his hair and stroke at the lower curve of his skull. It’s gentle, rhythmic and lulling. It’s nothing like—

✶ — ✶ — ✶ — ✶

Yingxing tears at your scalp, hands wound into your long hair. His cock is buried in your throat, bullied there at your request. He’s seated so deep that your nose is buried in the bristly, silver hairs at the base of him. His scent is intoxicant, musky and unclean. Instinct tells you it’s impure, but you have learned that’s conditioning.

You want to swallow him whole.

You swallow around his cock as Yingxing grinds into your throat. You gag, you always do, but Yingxing ignores you in favor of fucking your face with more vigor. The sounds that drag from you are obscene. Ugly things, guttural sounds. Tears drip down your cheeks, spit down your chin—

✶ — ✶ — ✶ — ✶

You kiss him softly, pliant beneath him and snake a hand lower, easily. It’s practiced. Like you’ve done this a hundred times. The rhythm of intimacy seems easy. You palm over his increasingly hard cock and smile against his lips.

“Does it feel good?” you ask, voice soft and curling.

Before Dan Heng can reply, you’re licking up his jaw, to his ear. You nip and suck and Dan Heng can’t help the way his eyes roll back in his head. He groans, rolling his hips against your hand. The friction is dry, but it’s something. Something new and different and not an arousing nightmare. But an arousing reality.

He moans at the contact. The sound startles him.

You seem pleased as you hum against his ear and kiss down from his most sensitive spot, lower, licking over skin with practiced motions. You nip at his collarbones, laughing under your breath when Dan Heng twitches with the pressure of it.

Dan Heng feels— thoroughly disarmed. The feeling grows more intense as you coax him to flip your positions in the next moment.

His back hits the mound of pillows softly. You cradle the back of his head as he moves and massage his scalp.

It’s— the care of it that feels different. There was clearly care between Dan Feng and Yingxing. Too much, in Dan Heng’s opinion— (they shared the kind of care that tore history asunder, love so brilliant and cloying that it could only bring sticky destruction). The kind you give him is different. There’s a warmth in your gaze which is foreign. Yingxing held passion and a brightly burning heat that would surely burn itself out too young. Branding heat.

Yours is tender, the warmth of a hearth you stacked and lit yourself. You beckon him closer with a smile on your lips and hands tangled in his hair. You tug on it, with the barest edge of pain. Dan Heng likes it.

Your knee slots between his thighs, something to grind onto. He can’t help the way he yearns for more contact, and seeks the friction. His pants are too tight, but he doesn’t want to remove them yet.

✶ — ✶ — ✶ — ✶

Yingxing tears off your clothes. Your finest robes— the ceremonial ones, silks with intricate embroidery and beaded with perfectly cut crystals— are in tatters by your bedside within moments. Yingxing’s want is unyielding. The lips that move against your own are so much, and so good. You crave it. Yingxing licks into your mouth and you moan loud enough for your entire home to hear. Never mind your attendants and preceptors.

Let them talk. Let them gossip. You have never cared for legacy regardless.

Yingxing rips away your undergarments. Gossamer things, thin and mostly see-through. You’re already hard, leaking, aching for touch. Yingxing spits on his palm and strokes you. He doesn’t stop as you squirm. You’re not used to touch, especially not like this. No matter how often Yingxing takes you like this, your body cannot fully acclimate quickly.

It takes a moment.

Yingxing uses this to his advantage. He holds you like he has something to prove as he swipes away pre from the head of your cock and licks it off his thumb. He looks smug, smitten, vibrant, and enthralled.

“How many times can I make you come tonight?” Yingxing purrs, voice rough and silken all at once. You feel your cock twitch in his hand. He smirks. “What if I break you?”

“I’d throw you through a window.” You snap at him.

“You wouldn’t.” Yingxing rubs down to the base of your cock and plays with your most tender parts. You try to kick him and he catches your ankle. Yingxing, the bastard he is, presses a kiss to your ankle. Reverent. “You like it when I break you.”

“You’re terrible.”

“And I’m yours. And I’d like to make Yinyue-Jun cry tonight.”

It’s— humiliating the way he speaks to you sometimes. He adores you. He loves you. And for that reason, he knows he can get away with goading you on and shoving you around as he does. He knows intimately what it all does to you. The way your cheeks flush and your cock leaks down its shaft are enough of an indicator. No one sees you bare. Just— him.

Just him.

✶ — ✶ — ✶ — ✶

Dan Heng starts to remove your clothes.

You seem surprised when he does. You try to take over the task yourself, but Dan Heng bats your hands away.

He wants to do this.

Dan Heng is methodical with each button and overly careful. He watches the rise and fall of your chest, noting how it hastens as he works on the last few buttons. The garment is pushed off your shoulders and discarded into his nest.

Seeing you bare is— vulnerable. Surely. You attempt to smile but— Dan Heng sees the cracks in it. As lax as you try to be, this is something different for you as well. Another mystery woven into you that Dan Heng wants to pick apart.

He rubs at your hips, up your ribs and to your chest. You gasp with his touch, leaning back to brace yourself on his thighs. It exposes you more, and— gives him more room to indulge. He cups your breast and steels his resolve when you whine.

Dan Heng has never done this. He wasn’t sure he ever would. It feels foreign and odd to touch you this way, but Dan Heng likes it. The heat that rises in your cheeks when he pinches your nipples. The soft puffs of breath and the sweat of arousal that’s growing on your temple. You roll your hips down onto his clothed cock, seeking the same contact he does.

There’s a tumble to it then. The task of disrobing continues, and you end up entirely nude on top of him, while Dan Heng is still fully clothed.

“... Is this more comfortable for you?” You ask. You aren’t... shy about your body. But there’s an unfamiliar squirm in your upper half that Dan Heng reads as discomfort.

You’re exposed. He is not.

“Somewhat.” Dan Heng lays his hand flat over his navel. He imagines what his cock would feel like inside you and he nearly blacks out.

“Why?”

Dan Heng thinks for a moment—

(It’s because Dan Feng liked power. He loved the games where he could have all of the power and control in his hands, and those where it was torn from him as well. He reveled in both. This— want is an afterburn. One that is not Dan Heng’s. Just like every other thought of intimacy and sex that Dan Heng has ever felt—)

“Dan Heng,” You breathe his name and pet his cheeks. You’re closer now, chest to chest. “Can you tell me why? It’s okay if you can’t.”

“It’s too complicated.”

“... Could you try to tell me, still? We have time.”

“I want to fuck you.”

“You can. After.”

Dan Heng frowns at you. He wants to tell you that— he wants it now. And that patience is something he has in spades but you are testing the limits of. Your poking and prodding, he wants to toss it aside in favor of the literal you in his lap.

He wets his lips as you look at him expectantly. You stroke over his cheek, soothing him as if he were an angry kitten.

“I like that—” Dan Heng starts, and his words die in his throat. What he wants to say—

(“I like that I can see all of you, while not revealing any of myself.”)

You seem like less of a mystery like this, bare and sweaty over top of him. There’s less of you that you can obscure. You’re not hiding from him, dodging him, or flaying him open with honesty while so much of you remains tucked away. You cannot hide your own arousal. Your cheeks are hot with it, your pupils dark and dilated, and your lips are licked and wet.

“Hm?” You hum, a devious smirk stretching over your lips. You grind down onto his cock, with enough pressure that it almost hurts. His eyes roll back into his head. “Can’t you tell me, Dan Heng? Why do you like hiding the way you do?”

Dan Heng stills, opening his eyes to blink at your incredulously.

“... Why do ‘I’ hide?” Dan Heng asks. His tone is rude. He internally slaps his own wrists then forgives himself, because in the next moment, you have your palm over his cock, gripping the length of him through the fabric of his pants. You flick your thumb over where the head is concealed and look smitten with the way his hips jolt.

“I am not a fool.” You toy with the button on his trousers. “Dan Heng, the Nameless, who hides and hides and hides. And feels so infinitely bad when a single card in his hand is revealed. The shame you carry, doesn’t it burden you?”

Dan Heng’s mouth is dry, “I—”

“You can hide like this. I won’t stop you,” You hum, still smiling, still lax in the shoulders. You run a hand up his navel, over his shirt, careful to retain his frail modesty. “Perhaps a bit bashful, yes. But, you’re hiding. How can you crave intimacy when you’re seeking it from behind a veil? Dearest Dan Heng, I will indulge you, because you are dear to me, but will it be fulfilling—?”

You prattle on.

Dan Heng is... seething. Quietly and carefully. Because, you are not wrong. There’s truth to your accusations. You speak no lies, yet the way you’re... delivering the truth is frail and in fragments. Your own eyes look hazy. Your touch grows shaky. Your voice is too soft around the edges for the sharpness of your words.

Dan Heng—

He knows that look.

✶ — ✶ — ✶ — ✶

You have never had sex before.

You’ve read about it, because your Preceptors made sure you did when you were young. This was in the case that you were raped, that you would know what the experience was, so it could be reported in an appropriate and timely manner.

Your exposure to sex beyond that was minimal. Though Vidyadhara copulated, it was not for the sake of procreation. It was based in pleasure, supposedly. You had learned that the humans and foxians of the Xianzhou had sex for the sake of pleasure and power which... you cannot understand. You don’t endeavor to understand it, as you have all of the power that you need.

(You are naive for this, you will learn in time.)

The first time Yingxing implores you to have sex, you know the rote motions. You assume— that since he is a human, this is what he wants from you. You let Yingxing push you down on your own mattress, and you lay there. Yingxing speaks as he disrobes himself, then tends to you.

Each layer of clothing he removes from your body feels like you’re being cut with a knife.

You haven’t let any attendants dress you since you learned to adeptly use Cloudhymn to assist yourself instead. You frequently wear three, sometimes four, layers of silken clothing, even when you are around your own home.

No one sees Yinyue-Jun bare.

And yet, Yingxing peels back each garment without much reverie. He undoes metal and mother-of-pearl clasps with a dexterous flick of his fingers and a dashing, sharp-toothed smile over his lips.

You look down at his own chest when he pushes away the final layer. Your skin is milky, untouched cream. You’re too skinny, the muscle you have is wiry without enough fat. You watch your own chest rise and fall— so quickly. Too quickly.

When you look up at Yingxing, whatever smile he had worn is gone. He wears concern so transparently over his brow as he cups your cheek. His lips move, and you do not hear him. Your own lips still move, an instinctual reply even if you do not register your own words. You can predict what you’re saying.

(“I am fine.)

(“There is no need to worry about me.”)

(“You are foolish for worrying about me.”)

Yingxing softens after you speak, and thumbs over your lips. The pads of his fingers are rough. You can feel the heat callouses, born of friction and incidental burns. It’s so much different from your own flesh, constantly-healing, pure and so rarely bruised.

Yingxing deftly falls to your side, and scoops you in his arms. He smells like iron and smoke. You’re stiff at his side.

He speaks directly in your ear, nosing the shell of it, “As much as I would love to bed Yinyue-Jun, I can recognize when I need to be a gentleman about it.”

“... Pardon?” You swallow. Your voice is foggy in your own ears.

Yingxing’s hand settles on his hip. He pulls back just enough to look at you, nose to nose, violet eyes soft in the amber sway of candles in the room.

“Yinyue-Jun is very brave, for a virgin.” This time, Yingxing smiles like a menace. You punch his back and he seems unperturbed. “Let’s take our time. You have plenty of it, and I have enough to show you how to enjoy this well.”

✶ — ✶ — ✶ — ✶

Dan Heng understands, then.

In a smooth motion, he raises his palm to fit over your mouth. You stop speaking beneath it, and you snatch his wrist up in your own grip.

“If I am hiding, then so are you,” Dan Heng says. There is no waver to his voice anymore. “And you are terrified.”

You freeze above him.

It’s enough of an opening for Dan Heng to knit his legs with your own, and drag you down into his nest. He wraps his arms around you, chest-to-chest (covering you, hiding you himself, keeping you safe and sating that fanged, draconic howl in his chest that will never fully quiet). You remain stiff in his arms, eyes wide and you’re not smiling.

Your gaze flickers up to his and holds it, unrelentingly.

“I don’t mind doing things scared.” You tell him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders.

“Will you enjoy it if you’re scared?”

“... Maybe less, but it’ll feel nice.” You shrug, nosing at his jaw. “I like you, Dan Heng. I wouldn’t have offered sex if I didn’t want to have it.”

Dan Heng locks his jaw. He noses down your jaw, down your neck, to the juncture where your shoulder meets it. The flesh is tender. You have your free arm draped carefully over your chest, covering your most exposed, vulnerable portions as he tries to do the same to you. Your breath is soft, bated as he hovers.

“I don’t want to have sex with you if it will only feel ‘nice’,” Dan Heng says into the hollow of your throat.

“How demanding.”

The bar is on the fucking ground. “I do not think so.”

Dan Heng slides a hand lower, between your thighs. You’re only wearing shorts, soft amiri-cotton that sparkles in the lowlight of the archive’s room. It’s a thin garment. It takes nothing for Dan Heng to cup a hand over your sex. With dexterity and focus, he presses his middle finger closer. The seam of your cunt is wet, even through the fabric.

“Are you scared or nervous?” He asks.

“Hm, what about you?”

“Do not dodge my question.” He squeezes over your cunt and you clutch at his shoulders with a gasp. “Just answer it.”

You consider his question, and open your mouth like you’re going to attempt to parry him, then close it again. Your lips are smooth, petal-soft as he thumbs over them, urging them to stay closed until you have an answer.

Dan Heng struggles with eye contact, but forces himself to stare you down.

“Both?” You ask behind his finger. There’s a hint of mirth behind your words.

Dan Heng frowns, “How can it... be enjoyable for you?”

“... That’s a good question.” You look far-off for a moment, not there in his nest. “Not quite sure, but I’m sure I can.”

There’s an implicit ‘I have before’ that you do not say. However, with the way your head falls limply to the side in his grip, Dan Heng immediately knows he hit one of your rare soft spots. He— he immediately regrets it. He’s in uncharted territory that he strong-armed his way into. And he— he doesn’t know the way out. He’s a sexless virgin who masturbates once every three months and his most emotionally (and sexually) charged relationship is with the living ghost of a man insistent on killing him.

✶ — ✶ — ✶ — ✶

Yingxing does not remember much of his youth.

Dan Feng knows this intimately.

The short-lived have expiring memories that seem to muddle the old over time. Dan Feng cannot understand, as his memory is pristine and clear from the time he emerged from the ancient sea in a jade-colored egg.

Yingxing remembers the Zhuming, vaguely, and then remembers arriving on the Luofu. He vaguely remembers his first meeting with Baiheng, and sleeping on a little cot in her tiny apartment while he worked his way up in the Artisanship Commission. Lucidly, these are his earliest memories.

Outside of lucidity, Dan Feng knows Yingxing remembers more.

Occasionally, something will make Yingxing remember his unpleasant, smallest youth. The loud boom of the Luofu’s biggest fireworks. A snarling dog. Splintering wood. The scent of burnt hair.

It makes Yingxing stiffen, tense, and draw up in himself.

Dan Feng has done his own research early on. In his adolescence, Yingxing was nothing more than a scrappy refugee with nothing to his name.

Yingxing’s home planet, a lush-planet... abundant in jungle lands and river systems, was plundered by abundance. Borisins. Most of its population was wiped out. Yingxing escaped due to good fortune, luck, and no doubt sacrifices he couldn’t remember.

He understands Yingxing’s passion and revulsion much better after he learns these things.

It all enrages Dan Feng.

Yingxing’s fragmented memory, which continues to weather with time, can only give him the basest impulses when faced with something that makes him remember that frightening time. Even if he cannot remember in the mind, then he does in the body.

Dan Feng does not tell Yingxing that he knows. Yingxing is too proud a man— he’ll take offense and cause trouble. Dan Feng thinks it is better that he himself hold the knowledge, and soothe him how he can. Dan Feng can stew within himself, hone Cloud Piercer, and cut those who slighted his beloved.

It is something beyond duty.

An expression of care, one that tastes briny and bloody on Dan Feng’s fangs.

✶ — ✶ — ✶ — ✶

“Can I help?” Dan Heng asks.

You blink at him. He strokes down your cheek. You hum and press your lips into his palm.

“Can you?”

“I— I will,” Dan Heng stammers. “How can I make this less... scary, for you?”

Can he?

Your gaze penetrates him. It’s something sharp, seeking. Looking for his weak spots for a moment. You’re searching for danger in him.

You soften and cozy up closer, a moment later.

“Just... take your time, and I’ll take mine.” You kiss him, and speak against his lips. “It’s easier if we both can ease into it.”

Dan Heng nods. He... he wants to fuck you. He will.

...

You pick each other apart. Bit by bit, piece by piece.

It is a slow affair, one neither of you truly lead. You spur Dan Heng on, and he follows.

He guides you when he can, when it feels natural and normal. You seem content in those moments, more relaxed and soft-eyed.

You do not wear a full facade all of the time, but Dan Heng now knows that you are careful to keep yourself skillfully hidden.

Dan Heng finds this out, intimately, while he is between your thighs, tongue against your slit. He laps at you, in the motions you describe. Your hands are buried in his hair, directing him with your grip and the gentle grind of your hips against his face. It is— heavenly. Your thighs around his ears, the scent of you. He left a few pointed bite marks on your thighs, which you had yelped at.

He enjoyed giving them.

You fall apart against his mouth in a way he hasn’t seen before.

It’s— so good to watch. When he looks up at you, you gasp, you whine, and throw your wrist over your mouth to muffle the sounds you’re letting out. Each gasp has Dan Heng earnestly trying to wring more out of you. He watches your eyes roll back as you crest. Your thighs clamp around his skull and a broken sound rips from your throat. He guides you through it, then moves to your hole, lapping at your essence until he’s sure he’s drenched in it.

You pull him up for a kiss, and lick into his mouth. Your hands shake as they pet over his cheeks and jaw. Against his lips, you tell him— “you did so well”, “that was so good”, “thank you” —

The praise is almost unbearable Dan Heng has to hide his burning face in your neck to escape the vulnerability of it.

You pay it no mind, and just laugh at him, smothering your lips into his mused-up hair.

It’s— it’s good. It’s good and soft and nothing like the dreams he’s carried with him for fair too long.

“Did you enjoy that?” You ask him, forcing him to look at you.

“I did.”

“Good.” You’re smitten with the answer and rub at his waist. You’d— clawed off his shirt at one point. Bare to each other. Dan Heng only has on his final layer of underwear that is increasingly tight and wet, with a growing patch of pre on the front.

“Do you want me to suck you off?” You ask. Your hand, gentle, slides down his front, between your bodies to rub over his cock.

Dan Heng— struggles to find words as you tease the head of it with the tip of a finger. The smile you wear is devilish.

“Maybe later—” He manages. “I want to— be inside you.”

He wants to be closer.

You look content with that, and pet him some more.

“In due time,” You kiss his cheek. “Will you allow me to be cruel, and make you wait a little longer?”

“It’s not cruel.”

“Okay, mean then.”

“You’re the furthest thing from mean.” Dan Heng frowns. He bites your cheek in retaliation without thinking and you squirm, pinned beneath him. A laugh bubbles from your throat, and Dan Heng can’t help but twin the sound.

“So kind.”

...

Time stretches out, between languid kissing and the feel of your bare bodies so close, the night and day cycles the Express regulates do not seem of consequence. It’s the most relaxed Dan Heng has been in recent memory. You make it easy to be so.

You have no expectations when you touch him, other than the easy exchange of heat and spit.

By the time Dan Heng has your legs wrapped around your waist, cock against your hole, he’s light-headed. He wants, so much. The image of you laid out before him, bare and covered in various marks of his, will be with him for years. There’s nothing lazy or unfocused about your gaze now, there’s only desire, so hot and needy that it makes Dan Heng’s throat feel tight.

You flex your hips, pushing the tip of his cock against your clit. You both gasp.

“Please, Dan Heng?” You say smugly as you play with the sweaty hair at the nape of his neck. “Whenever you’re ready.”

“I—” The words die in his throat.

He strokes up and down the flesh of your stomach. Your muscles are relaxed, soft. You’re no longer playing a role, he thinks. You’re here, wanting, edging toward begging him. The head of his cock is purple from strain and prolonged arousal.

He presses into you slowly.

You are stretched, and Dan Heng isn’t particularly large, so he does not see any strain cross your features. If anything, there’s relief. If you were relaxed before, you’re boneless now, taking as much of him as he will give you.

Dan Heng fucks you in earnest then, under the glow of the Archive’s many machines and fixtures. You grab at his shoulders and bury your face in his neck. Dan Heng didn’t think he shared Dan Feng’s proclivity for pain, however the way your nails wrack down his back has him throbbing from inside you.

By the time he spills inside you, he’s gasping, sobbing with each thrust because it is so much. Closeness— like this— that’s real and tangible and in his grasp and within his body (only his, no one else’s) feels so vibrant and violent, it cleaves him open. He comes with a broken sound muffled into your throat, sinking his teeth into the soft flesh there. You let him, spasming with the pressure and letting out your own half-cry with the pain. Dan Heng fucks you through his orgasm, until he can’t support his weight on his knees, and he falls on top of you.

You let out a little ‘oof’, and then laugh, wrung out and happy.

Dan Heng cherishes the memory.

✶ — ✶ — ✶ — ✶

You are most tired, but you must continue to move forward.

Despite your aching rear and scratchy eyes, there are duties to attend to. Never mind that your husband is in your bed, knocked out, regardless of whatever regenerative cloudhymns you could give him. Yingxing is mortal, and no matter how much of you he consumes (figuratively), it only slows his aging, never stopping it completely.

Yingxing will die, long before you do. And that is if he dies of old age and not the diseases and maladies of the short-lived. Or some violence that you and the rest of the Quintet will be unable to protect him from.

This will not do.

You enter your study with sweeping, loose robes. You tell your attendants to leave you be. Your ritual obligations are not until the evening. Until then, you will be confine yourself in your study and continue to pour over the scrolls, documents, and books you have been able to find. It has been hard to procure some of them— having Sanctus Medicus texts brought to the home of the High Elder would be treasonous. It has required careful planning to amass the library you have, and you are diligent in keeping it hidden. Even from your lover.

He would not forgive you, were he to know.

You have never been selfish, not once in your life. In any of your lives. You have lived for your people, the Luofu, and a dead Aeon that you remain the after-image of. You have played the part well, smiled when necessary and remained cold enough to rarely stir dangerous interests. You have healed many without complaint.

As you settle into your nest of pillows and blankets, and pick up your newest scroll, you don’t feel that guilty. You will let yourself have this one thing. If nothing else in any of your lifetimes, this one fucking thing will be yours.

You unfurl the scroll with a yawn. It’s a text, an old one, from the High Elder that followed Yubie. They lived a short life for a high elder, two hundred years. However, they were a prolific scholar. Most of their works have been hidden away with time, as some are downright blasphemous and utilize the Abundance in a way that both the Vidyadhara’s high council and the Luofu’s Charioteers could not tolerate.

This particular one has not seen the light of day since that High Elder’s time. It is titled:

[The Twin-Hearted Dragon Theory: The Permanence and Abundance’s Coalescing]

✶ — ✶ — ✶ — ✶

“What a weird one.” You say with a yawn. Dan Heng can hear your voice through your chest, where his cheek is pillowed on your bare chest. He— there’s a spot of drool that’s cooling unpleasantly. He blinks awake and rises off you, to rub the stickiness away, blushing furiously.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. It was cute. You were sleeping good, for once.” You tell him and muse up his hair. “Besides, you’ve gotten me far messier than that.”

You both are messy. Dan Heng can feel the stickiness on his softened cock, and he imagines you’re leaking between your legs. He sneaks a hand between your body and gently feels along your thighs to confirm his suspicion.

You gasp when he grazes your core. You— you are dripping. Cold, too. It must be uncomfortable. Dan Heng frowns.

“Don’t worry about that.” You assure him, voice shaking. “We can clean up in a little bit.”

“Isn’t it uncomfortable?”

“Maybe,” you hum, unsure. “I don’t mind it, regardless.”

Dan Heng raises himself up off of you, and braces his hands on your inner thighs. He’s warmed with the combined heat of the Archives, his nest, and you. You’re chilled under him and— Dan Heng. Can’t have that. He can’t totally trace why, he pulls a blanket up and over your bodies.

You let him arrange you as he sees fit. He brings you to his chest, and fits your head under his chin. He tangles your legs, indulges in the contact and tries to transfer some of his volcanic heat into you. You look content as he does, nuzzling into his throat.

Your own eyelids droop.

“Are you going to sleep?” He asks.

“... Probably not.” You say with a yawn.

“You look tired.”

“I am,” You nod and push closer. “But, I don’t need to, and it’s hard to get myself to sleep. It’s more trouble than it's worth, trying to sleep.”

Dan Heng doesn’t think before speaking. “Has it always been hard?”

You pause, breathing even and slowly, “Not always.”

“Why did it get harder?”

You choose your words carefully then, despite your evident exhaustion. Your brow droops, and you rub at Dan Heng’s sides. Your thumbs skitter over his ribs.

“How much do you know about the Kin of Sacha, Dan Heng?” You ask. “It provides context. I’d hate to bore you.”

“... Very little. The databanks only has limited information.”

“Oh, you looked for me?” You nip at his jaw, playful, even as Dan Heng prepares a nervous rebuttal. You soothe his distress before it can get anywhere. “I’m kidding— and it makes sense there’s not much about us out there. There aren’t that many of us to begin with.”

“... How many?”

“I’m not sure, truthfully. Probably less than a thousand. Maybe half of that. Unless Sacha has... awoken to bless more. But I doubt that.”

You rarely mention the Aeon who provided you your sleeplessness and dream-seeing. You even more seldom mention anyone you knew prior to your time on the express.

You sign, “Typically, the Kin of Sacha work as mystics or laborers. Some societies we encountered saw the Aeon’s gifts as a psychic boon to be cultivated. Others, like the one I was raised in, saw the Kin as a well of infinite, tireless labor. You learn quickly under those expectations that even if you could sleep, it’s more ideal not to.”

Conditioning, then.

Dan Heng thinks back to when he first saw you at that rest stop. How you’d swayed on your two feet, eyes glassy and far away. How long they took to focus. How the embroidered logo on your breast must’ve belonged to whatever company you’d been under the employ of. Pieces fit together, and Dan Heng feels slightly sick.

“You don’t— need to be like that, now. You should sleep.”

With your hands braced on his chest, you lean back to look at him. Your gaze is soft, unguarded. You look almost plush with it.

“... I guess I should.”

(I guess I could.)

That’s all it takes, really. You nearly collapse back into the nest, and Dan Heng settled himself to be curled around you. If— If he still deigned to manifest his Vidyadharan tail, perhaps it would be curled around you both.

But, Dan Heng does not manifest any tail. You do not need to stay awake. You both rest under the filtered, soft light of the Archives, and that is all you must do.

#lore writes #dan heng x reader #dan heng x you #hsr x reader #SOUP!! COOKED!!#the format of this story was so fun to write hehe #enjoy loves <3

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bamsara · 7 months ago

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A03 Questions Tag Game

I got tagged by: @kagedbird I tag: @onethirdofimpossible, @coffincrows, (first two that come to mind) and anyone else who wants to do the game

1 – How many works do you have on AO3?

At the time of writing this post, currently 30 fics. (Not including any fics or written works that are not posted to AO3)

2 – What's your total AO3 word count?

1,066,633

3 – What fandoms do you write for?

Formerly: Don't Starve, FNAF, Dragons Dogma, Invader Zim

Currently: Cult of the Lamb

4 – What are your top five fics by kudos?

Solar Lunacy, Celestial Omens, Bytes of Lunacy, The Rehabilitation of Death, Saturday Insomnia

5 – Do you respond to comments?

I try to but I also get very nervous responding because I often don't know what to say back and I feel like it's almost rude or disrespectful to respond to a comment, esp the very nice ones that are long and in-deph with just a keysmash or a bunch of emojis, but I do read every single one since I have email notifications on for them

I'd like to sit down and respond to many but I really don't want to make it awkward so pls dear god readers forgive me

6 – What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I don't like unhappy endings. I enjoy angsty stories but I like when it's at least ending happy to me

7 – What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Not posted? Solar Lunacy

Ongoing? TROD

8 – Do you get hate on fics?

Not really? Most adults (in my experience) know the 'don't like don't read' rule and know basic online etiquette. I've gotten some for discontinuing a fic or switching fandoms though

9 – Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

I don't write or draw NSFW! I like to make some suggestive themes sometimes, but I'm a very ace person, it's not something I do often. (I do have a current running goal that if my friend reaches their donation goal for their medical bills that I would give NSFW a shot, but again its not really my cup of tea)

10 – Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

Nah I haven't written any cross overs, but I do draw them sometimes. Recently I've been spinning a Alice in Wonderland x COTL crossover in my head.

11 – Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Yep. I've had people copy and paste my work, go in with a thesaurus to change a few words (like changing 'angry' to mad, 'upset' to 'sad', and so forth) to try and avoid detection and re-posted my written work under a different title name. AO3 staff took them down for violating their policy against plagiarism though

12 – Have you ever had a fic translated?

No. I wouldn't mind it so as long as I'm asked before hand, though not on anon so I can actually work with the person to prevent any mistranslations or mishandling, and that I don't want my work posted to other websites

13 – Have you ever co-written a fic?

I think I did when I was a teen but I cannot remember now

14 – What's your all-time favorite ship?

Eh I don't have any favorites, just ones I really focus on for a long while

15 – What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Pass.

16 – What are your writing strengths?

I can sit down for hours or several days and work on a writing wip completely in the zone. I cant do it on command but its at least something I can do

17 – What are your writing weaknesses?

Spelling and grammar, and sometimes long running sentences. I just kinda write, theres not really a goal for it to be perfect though so as long as the story gist and vibe is right, im fine with it

18 – Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I've done it before but only minor, had a friend help me with it (one or two lines of dialogue) Aside from that, I'm not comfortably fluent enough in anything to do it again without assistance

19 – First fandom you wrote for?

Soul Eater, when I was wayyy too young to be posting anything on the internet. My fanfics I wrote are still on fanfic.net to this day

20 – Favorite fic you've written?

It's inbetween TROD and EE&E right now

#sara shush

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wangxianficfinder · 4 months ago

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Fic Finder

July 13th

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1. it's been a while since I read this fic but it's set during the sunshot campaign and wwx jc jzx and lwj all develop some sort of bond and can share powers/cores(?) I don't remember if the golden core transfer happened. they can bring each other back to life (though I think there's some sort of time limit to it?) that they first discover when wwx was killed (I believe)

FOUND!🔒🧡 Song by WithBroomBefore (T, 41k, Platonic Soulbond, Hurt/comfort, Canon Divergence, No golden core transfer, JC&JZX stay in Xuanwu cave, Fix-it, Temporary character death)

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2. Thank you for this blog. I am looking for a fic that I read a few years ago, focused on Lan Sizhui. I think the pairing was ZhuiLing or else it was focused on Lan Sizhui, Lan Jingyi, and Jin Ling in some combination. They were still cultivators, Lan Sizhui was a monster/tentacle monster/eldritch kind of creature when he wasn't in human form and the Lan clan helped keep this secret. I think it was because he was a Wen but I don't remember the exact explanatiom now. It was a bit long, as I think it had some chapters, and the juniors were still cultivators who went on night hunts and trained. I liked seeing how the slight change from the original universe was used. I've searched several ways in ao3 and have not been able to find it again yet. @mejomonster

FOUND? sounds like "Lurking" by Verse, but they deleted all their mdzs fics. It may exist on the wayback machine.

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3. Hi!!! I was hoping you'd find this wangxian fic:

It was a Jonh Carter AU(? yes that Disney movie about Mars) Like Lan Zhan is from Helium and Wei Ying is a Thark. I think is listed as explicit and top Wei Wuxian... not sure about other tags... The Summary might be vague and say something along the lines of Lan Zhan doing a trip and encountering a stranger (Wei Wuxian) I've tried to search it but there's just so many fics!

I hope it's still up 😭😭 Thank you so much before hand! @nat-first-account

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4. Love this blog it always helps me find my next fic. I need help finding a fic where lan wanjai and Wei ying find a baby and they make jokes that Wei ying dreamed about it and got pregnant. But than a ton of woman start saying that man Shan got them pregnant through dreams.

FOUND? Taking Responsibility by deliciousblizzardshark (T, 6k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Fix-It, Getting Together, Trope Subversion/Inversion, Pretend mpreg, Accidental Baby Acquisition, Fluff and Crack)

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5. Hi! I’m looking for a specific Wangxian fic. The Lan sect is full of monks and LWJ is a monk assigned to protect WWX on his journey to get something for Jin Guangshan. WWX is one of the best archers and that’s why he’s specifically sent on the quest to hunt something down. LWJ falls in love with WWX on their quest and near/at the climax they run into a sage who almost kills WWX. Can you help me find this fic? Sorry if this has been asked before! @whompmwhomp

FOUND? Climb Every Mountain by athena_crikey (E, 21k, WangXian, Magic, Warrior Monks, Archery, h/c, Quests, Bodyguard, vow of celebacy, Temptation, (sexual) frustration, Falling In Love, Loss of Virginity, First Time, LWJ's self-selected repression, the inherent eroticism of WWX)

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6. heyy! i'm currently trying to find a fic where wwx came back to the cloud recesses all beaten up and has his mouth sewed shut, the fic is basically focused on him recovering with nie huaisang and others getting revenge. i think in the end, it was sect leader yao who did it? thanks!

FOUND? Silenced by Tasharene (M, 63k, WangXian, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, PTSD, Temporary Blindness, Aversion to touch, Fear of crowds, Panic Attacks, Post-Canon, WWX Whump, Hurt WWX, Whump, Angst with a Happy Ending, world-class troll LXC, see the archive Warnings BEFORE you accuse me of not tagging things!!!)

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7. hii im looking for a wangxian fic where a phoenix god/spirit(?) has lived many lives. he chose his next life to be human and he reincarnated as wei wuxian. some big event happens that leads to him being kept in i think the cold pond cave and theres barriers that only lan wangji can go through. its definitely not a 2024 fic and im betting on it not being 2023 either. youre my last hope </3 thank you in advance

FOUND? 🔒 Breathing Firestorm by ladyshadowdrake (M, 110k, wangxian, angst, fluff, captivity, creepy WRH, no non-con, dreamsharing, politics, people making the best decisions they can, epic length, mythical creature WWX, canon-typical violence, dark, happy ending) I haven't read this but 7 sounds like the summary of breathing firestorm

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8. Hi! I need your help once sgain. Because once again I thought I had this fic bookmarked, but can't find it, and my Google-fu has failed too, so here goes: x number of years ago, Wei Ying and the Wen Remnants vanished from the Burial Mounds. Lan Zhan has never stopped searching for Wei Ying. There are strange rumors everywhere that WY & the others are in a resentment-filled no man's land (kind of like the void in the Shadow & Bone novel) where huge deadly monsters roam. Word is also that people who really need help have safely disappeared into this void. As time passes, rumors of strange cultivators suddenly appearing to aid people are also circulating. And I think Lan Zhan actually meets Xiao Xingchen in an inn at one point & it's clear he knows Wri Ying (he & Song Lan turn out to be Wei Ying's right-hand men). LZ does try to get into the void thing, but the energy is too strong & he barely makes it out of the area. After a number of years they get a message out of the blue, i think, from WY saying that the monsters are getting out, and WY ends up bringing the Wei Sect back to the cultivation world to help fight. Wei Ying will have nothing to say or do with Lan Zhan, at least to start, which Lan Zhan is devestated by. Um...and Lan Yuan is there, grown up & still the Best Boy ever. I think A-Yuan tirns out to be a Gusu Lan fanboy. Anyway, it turns out Wei Ying created a ghost path that allows the Wei Sect to safely use resentful energy. But you find out WY got too damaged back in the beginning and by the end they defeat the monsters but he's dying, so Lan Zhan gives Wei ying his golden core. I think LZ actually does the whole transfer himself in the Jingshi.

Your help is hugely appreciated!

FOUND! 💖 Echo, Murmur, Dream, Here by bluerainmist (M, 51k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Universe Alteration, the yiling patriarch survives, Angst with a Happy Ending, Catharsis, Slow Burn, Drama, Getting Together, Romance, Hurt/Comfort, Melancholy, Love, Mutual Pining, Reunions, Love Confessions, Eventual Smut, Blow Jobs, Anal Sex, Switching, Grief/Mourning, fucking while pining, Implied/Referenced Torture, Self-Harm, golden core transfer, Playing fast and loose with worldbuilding, Battle Scenes, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, implied / Referenced suicide attempt, Sect Leader WWX, YLLZ WWX, Yílíng Wèi Sect)

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9. I found a fic where the sect leader Yao travels through time and fixes things. as far as I remember the title. I was going to read the fic but I missed it @quwieiidkd

FOUND? 🔒 how Yao Yongzheng traveled back in time to save everyone by ShippersList (T, 6k, Sect Leader Yao & WWX, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Time Travel Fix-It, Crack Treated Seriously, WWX is a Yao, Eventual WangXian, saving the world by accident, Genius WWX, Everyone Loves WWX, sect leader Yao is every overconfident underqualified middle-aged cishet man ever)

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10. Hii!! I'm searching for wangxian fanfic I read long ago and don't remember it's name. Wei ying and lan zhan are married at the cold pond and due to misunderstanding they don't acknowledge their marriage until the cliff scene. Where lan zhan follows after wei ying and fall down but they are saved by lan an and baosharan. After which they don't return to cultivation world and stay hidden for 16 yrs and has 3 kids(1 girl and 2 boys). Also, jin zixuan does not die and same with Jiang yanli but they lie to wangxian and have war and blame wei ying. After 16 yrs all sect leaders are threatened by meng Yao and to save themselves they stay with wangxian. Also, wen Qing family is also alive. @jungkookswife07613

Hii! Sorry but this is not the fiction I'm searching for. Can you try again?

The story starts from the cliff scene and wei ying remember all the things he had done with lan zhan. Also,lan zhan follows after wei ying and fall down the cliff and they are saved by baosharan and lan an. The elders also saved wen family and they lived in some place for 16 yrs in peace. With wangxian children which he gave birth to. Ayuan is eldest,followed by girl who is half blind and last son who is quiet. Ayuan goes outside and falls into some troubles and all sects(jin,Jiang,lan,nie) were present there including jin zixuan and Jiang yanli with their son because they were chased by meng Yao. He wanted to kill all of them. Wangxian comes their to save Ayuan and they get saved in the process. They got some cursed so Ayuan request wangxian to let them stay in their house until their cursed is solved.they stay in their house and yanli tries to connect with wei wuxian but he doesn't. Wen Ning is also married. Also, wangxian are immortal. Wei ying form is crow which he uses to spy on his son for safety reasons. Also, lan xichen repents himself and tries to make amends and connect with the kids. Lan zhan is also trying to connect with his family. Also, that Jiang family is a bit#h (bitch), cheng verbally abuses wei wuxian at any chance he gets and yanli only knows to cry. Same with lan qiren,he is still the same. Nice mingjue is still alive but he also already got cursed. I don't know about lan zhan. I didn't read after because it was not completed.

NOT FOUND!🔒These Things Unseen by bonyenne (T, 34k, wangxian, Canon Divergence, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Accidental Baby Acquisition, Getting Together, Happy Ending, Found Family, POV Alternating, Mutual Pining, Kid Fic, Additional Warnings In Author's Note) well, the first half the the description, the rest doesn't match. but i'll leave the link in case original requester is thinking of two different fics b/c the first half (with the three kids and rescue by bssr) is a pretty close match

NOT FOUND!🔒Blossoming flowers in a full moon - 花好月圆 by ThisIsWhereTheMagicHappens (T, 64k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Happy Ending, Fix-It of Sorts, make LWJ happy agenda, wangxian cuddle to Immortality)

FOUND! If It's Too Hard To Forgive by Machevalli (M, 94k, WIP, WangXian, XuanLi, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, Fluff and Angst, Bittersweet Ending, Yunmeng Jiang Sect Bashing, WWX Leaves the Yunmeng Jiang Sect, Top LWJ/Bottom WWX, Mpreg)

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11. After being a long time lurker I finally found myself needing your aid. The fic I lost track of was an A/B/O fic that had omega!LWJ & alpha!WWX. It was a modern AU, but I can't remember much that would help narrow down this fic other than I know there was an age gap, with LWJ being older than WWX. Thank you so much for your help!

FOUND? The Ties That Bind by silverclaw (G, 43k, wangxian, A/B/O, Arranged Marriage, Modern, Alpha WWX, Omega LWJ, past toxic relationship, Slow Burn, husbandiest of husband material WWX, mention of mpreg in relation to side-character, hurt LWJ, WWX falls first AND harder, No Smut)

FOUND? To Belong, To You by mk404 (E, 44k, WangXian, JYL/JZX, JL/LJY, WIP, A/B/O, Alpha LWJ, Omega WWX, Alpha JL, Alpha LXC, Alpha LSZ, Beta LJY, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mpreg, Modern with Magic, like they still go night hunting, But also its the 21 century, WWX doesn't die but goes into a coma, Age Difference, Older LWJ, Younger WWX, a-yuan is their bby, Age difference but like they are both adults, Like adults adults, Mates, Ass Play, Ass to Mouth, Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, Anal Play, Nipple Play, Nipple Licking, Finger Sucking, Knotting, Creampie, Size Kink, Size Difference, YLLZ WWX, Size Queen WWX, Multiple Orgasms, Overstimulation, Canon Divergence, Male Lactation) the description is a little vague so it doesnt really narrow it down

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12. Hi!! Do you know anything abt a modern au fic were lwj thinks wwx is in a relationship with someone called "a-yuan" and is kinda a jerk abt it but then it's revealed that wwx was never dating anyone but that a-yuan was his child. Sorry if this is kinda vague it's been awhile since I've read this fic 😅 (great blog btw) @imreallyonthishellsite

FOUND? 🔒 breathe in the air, the last of its kind by wereworm (T, 27k, WangXian, Modern, assumed cheating, Miscommunication, gc transfer modernised as hand-wavey illness (referenced/implied), 5+1 Things, wwx's lil family 3.0: the wens, wwx didn't adopt a-yuan the wens adopted wwx, lwj is a flawed person and people need to stop ignoring that, Translation Available, Перевод на русский | Translation in Russian)

FOUND? Green Is The Colour by lamusadelils (T, 2k, WangXian, Modern, A/B/O, Office, Omega LWJ, Alpha WWX, Jealous LWJ, casanova WWX, Or Is he?, Humor) I think I'm a bit late but I just found an alternative to 12

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13. Help me wangxianficfinder, you're my only hope!

I would swear I bookmarked this one but I can't find it anywhere!

It's a modern au where LWJ and WWX are college students. Iirc they are already in a relationship.

Iirc it opens with WWX and LWJ in a wrecked car which is possibly half hanging off a bridge - they'd been run off the road (though that's not established until later).

When the emergency services arrive, LWJ is taken to hospital but WWX is arrested for some bullshit reason - resisting arrest or something. Iirc the cops on the scene were Jin Zixun and Xue Yang.

There is worry from LWJ's family because they don't know what happened to WWX. Just that he was in the car and he should be in the hospital but isn't.

Later, WWX is in an interrogation room not making much sense because he's injured and hypothermic (it's winter and he was soaked through but he wasn't allowed to even dry off) then he gets left on his own.

I *think* he was tracked down by police (chief?) NMJ who got to WWX shortly before his heart stopped due to his injuries, the hypothermia, and the mistreatment while in custody.

That's all I can remember. Does this ring any bells for anyone? @greywake

Yep, looks like that's the fic I was after 😭

I don't suppose anyone has a copy downloaded?

FOUND! I found a link in another site in tumblr but i can't find the fic. Truth or There by FRecklis be well :) / The suggestion for 13 is available via the Wayback Machine here: Follow up on the Wayback Machine link for 13: it looks like only the first chapter was archived 😭

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14. Hi! This is for the fic finder. I'm looking for a fic where WWX takes A-Yuan and flees the Siege on burial mounts. He heads towards the ocean and meets XXC and SL, who travel in the same direction. He gives them a fake name and they eventually get to a seaside town where XXC and SL have a house that they offer WWX to stay in. I think in the last few chapters NHS found out he was there and WWX started to teach some town children (well, teenagers) so that the town has more protection and he doesn't have to use demonic cultivation.

I meant to suggest this fic in the ITMF on the 27. June but I can't find it for the life of me. Thank you in advance for helping me look for it! @hikato-chan

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15. Hello everyone, I come again looking for your help. This fic is an au of Harry Potter, or at least contains elements of it. I'm sure it's just one chapter and it's about Lan Wangji being cursed as a rabbit in the middle of his class, Wei Wuxian has a small bout of madness that involves torturing the spell caster because he thinks LWJ was killed in his presence (there's a mention that Jiang Wanyin was scared and didn't look him in the eye for a while, I think) until Lan Qiren pulls Bunji out of the fallen clothes. The curse is broken with a kiss of true love. As always, thank you very much for your time and effort. @makolashida

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16. I’m looking for this fic where Wwx is dead and while dead his (memories?) are shown to the cultivation world and when Wwx comes back everyone (or most people) consider him a good person. I believe in the description of this fic the Wwx that comes back this world is a different one from the one who dies in that universe. I also remember a scene in the fic where Wwx is overhearing people passing by talking about the compass he invented and he swore he named it something different, or he named something differently. This scene may not be in this fic but I swore there was a scene about Lán Xichen begging WWx for forgiveness for Jin guangyao actions

FOUND? remind me of this fic Have You Heard Of The Yiling Patriach by R_PONTS. But i think its deleted? Wei Wuxian is not strong, or at the very least his brute strength is not something he take prides in as much as his speed and flexibility, but those can only get you so far, and when going against stronger enemy, your mind is your trump card. Or, Wei Wuxian develop a time traveling array during the Sunshot Campaign in case everything went wrong but forgot about it after. It was during the Siege that people have disturb it along with Some other experimental talismans and truths was revealed a little to late.Wei Wuxian woke up in a world different from what he remembers.

amalthia said: well, the first half the the description, the rest doesn't match. but i'll leave the link in case original requester is thinking of two different fics b/c the first half (with the three kids and rescue by bssr) is a pretty close match

FOUND? scatter and sunder by silversshadow (T, 15k, JYL/JZX, wangxian, major character death, canon divergence, temporary character death) the first half of the request sounds like a perfect fit for scatter and sunder by silversshadow It doesn't have a seen with the misnamed compass but does have LXC begging for forgiveness

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17. HI, Im looking for a fic where i believe it was a kidfic? A yuan was adopted by lan zhan? There was a scene where lwjs car broke down in a snow storm and wwwx drove his old car to save them. Lol i cant remember much else. Pls help

FOUND? love thy neighbor by wincechesters (M, 7k, WangXian , Modern AU, Neighbors, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Single Parents, Single Parent LWJ) not exactly snowstorm, but there's a scene in 'love thy neighbor' when lwj's car broke down in winter and wwx rescues him and a-yuan with his old, loud car.

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18. Hello, wonderful people! Thank you for your hard work! Can you please help me find this fic? It's wangxian and either xiyao or 3zun. What I remember is at some point Jin Guangyao did something to contradict his father I think so in punishment he was thrown to some abandoned mine. Lan bros, Nie Mingjue and Wei Wuxian were searching for him and WWX said he will use the spirits of the dead for the search. Others disagreed but he said that JGY doesn't have much time since it was really cold in the mine for someone without a good golden core. At this point LWJ started to suspect WWX doesn't have one, I think. Does this ring any bells? Thank you in advance! @themorrana

FOUND! Aftermath by KouriArashi (T, 57k, JYL/JZX, wangxian, LXC/JGY, JZX & JGY, JYL & WXX, Canon Divergence, Fix-It, Everybody Lives, Romance, Developing Relationship, Family, Sibling Bonding, Light Angst, Politics, Attempted Sexual Assault, some murder on occasion, People talking about their feelings, processing their trauma, The good shit) Jin Guangshan dies at the beginning of the story, but the part with the mine happens at the end.

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19. Hello! For the next fic finder I have a fic i would love to get found.

It’s Wangxian.

And I think it was time travel but I’m not too sure. It might not have been, I’m 90 % sure it was in the cloudless days though.

Anyway the only thing I really remember is that wwx tells lwj that the older disciples used to make him drink with them when he was younger, like he started young around 12 I think?

He mentioned to lwj that it took around two bottles of wine to get him drunk and that usually he didn’t have to drink that much around his year mates as they got passed out drunk pretty quickly.

I also remember lwj or someone telling him that his golden core had burned away the alcohol the entire time. Which had put it under some kind of strain I think?

I would be really grateful if you guys could help me find it. @ravenwithwings

FOUND!🔒 The Second Hand Unwinds by trulywicked (E, 64k, wangxian, JYL/JZX, WIP, Graphic Depictions of Violence, Time Travel Fix-It, Not JC Friendly, Not Yunmeng Jiang Sect Friendly, Not Jiāng Family Friendly, Not YZY Friendly, Time Travelling LWJ, Protective LWJ, Fluff, Minor Angst, Minor Character Death, JGS is his own warning, Wooing, LWJ is romantic af, Inventor WWX, Genius WWX, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Protective Gusu Lan Sect, Supportive LXC, Good Uncle LQR, WWX Protection Squad)

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20. Hiii!! I’m trying to find this one fic. I never read it but the summary was intriguing. Wangxian are in a relationship but they both think the other is asexual (neither of them are). I think it was in a modern universe but i’m not completely sure. Been trying to find it for hoursssss

FOUND? Pounding Madly by Dei_Starr (DeiStarr), DeiStarr (E, 11k, WangXian, WIP, Car Accidents, Love Confessions, Mutual Pining, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Hospitalization, Roommates, Boarding School, Teenagers, Adults, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Celibacy, Abstinence, Asexual Relationship, Where Neither Of Them Is Actually Asexual, Miscommunication, Misunderstandings, Attempt at Humor, Angst and Fluff, Eventual Smut, First Time, Loss of Virginity, No Underage Sex, It's Plot Relevant I Swear, Demisexuality, Demisexual WWX, Asexuality Spectrum, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, This Is Not Going To Go The Way You Think, Communication Failure, Lack of Communication, Everyone Else Is Very Entertained, Epic Fail, Comedy of Errors, Romantic Comedy, Slow Burn, The Romance Is Fast, But The Sex Takes Years, Sex Is Not The Enemy, this is what happens when, Mr. "I Talk A Lot But Don't Really Say A Thing" & Mr. "'Mn' Is A Full Sentence" Get Together, Casting Couch, Corset, Gender Non-Conforming WWX, Crossdressing Kink, Crossdressing WWX, Seduction, Body Worship, Hand Jobs, Sexual Roleplay, Cock Warming, Mirror Sex, Intercrural Sex, Nipple Play, Oblivious WangXian, WWX Has a Breeding Kink, LWJ Has a Big Dick, Gay Sex, Anal Sex, Oral Sex, First Time Blow Jobs, Lingerie, LWJ is Bad at Communicating, WWX is a Mess, LWJ is a Panicked Gay, Horny LWJ, Horny WWX, Idiots in Love, POV LWJ, POV WWX, Human Disaster WWX, WWX is a Tease, WWX Has ADHD) I was trying to find the car accident fic someone else mentioned, and I think I found the one 20's looking for instead! I also haven't read it, but the summary matches!

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#wangxian #mdzs #wangxian fic finder #wangxian fic search #the untamed #wangxianficfinder #long post

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