#I’m fine with modern AU’s or canon | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

butteronabun · 2 months ago

Note

diluc + EXES EXES EXES PLEASE (HIIII butter on a bun ^_^ i will Enable you because i have a playlist for him dedicated to this shit) + canon/modern au, etc — pick whatever YOU were thinking writing the request post + spin the wheel and pick a genre~ again, this request is an excuse to hear YOUR thoughts (i have some of my own)

extra: pick whether you want it to be she/her or g/n~ i’m fine with both 🫶

sincerely, 🥩 (who missed you and hasn’t caught up with recent posts bc i was busy </3)

wish that i had more of this borrowed time

a diluc ragnvindr x female reader exes au.

overview: diluc’s heart is his greatest foe.

wc: 3.2k

notes: originally this was 5k words but that was so much & i didn’t want to complicate this more so TAKE IT 😙 this is also a bit open-ended so feel free to interpret this however you like!! also, additional notes will be in the end, so better check that out too :)

“You’re going to break that glass, Master Diluc,” remarks Kaeya Alberich himself, who is this close to purchasing popcorn to watch the ‘drama’ that he has been observing for a while now. Weinlesefest truly has its wonders – fresh wine, good company, and a brother who definitely still isn’t over his ex, even if said brother continues to deny it. “You look under the weather. Why not take a breather and enjoy the sights? You have a loyal staff that’s willing to oversee the Angel’s Share stand for a while.”

Diluc’s cold, unwavering glare remains on that face of his. Kaeya’s almost certain that comparing his ice from his cryo vision with Diluc’s expression will have no difference at all. “I am doing fine, Master Kaeya.” He looks down at the glass he has wiped for—Kaeya guesses—the fifth time now, and picks up another one.

“Really? But it’s becoming a little hot, Master Diluc. I’ve noticed that as the minutes pass by, the temperature of the stand has been concerningly rising as of late. Are you secretly heating up some tasty bar snacks, or is it something else?”

Kaeya suppresses a smirk when the warmth around them subdues momentarily. He has one theory that he’s sure is actually true—a theory where that ‘heat’ is coming from, and it’s definitely not the wind.

It’s the ninth month of the calendar. Summer’s already over. So it’s safe to say that. . .

“Don’t you have other matters to tend to?” Diluc narrows his eyes at him. Oh, changing the subject now, aren’t we? “Surely, Cavalry Captains still have to scout the area for any potential threats during Weinlesefest, or have the knights really gone incompetent?”

“Oh, you. Everyone deserves to enjoy the festival every once in a while,” Kaeya raises his keg playfully. “And that includes even you.”

Diluc just grumbles at that. Still stubborn as always, but Kaeya remembers the day when the traveler told him a few years ago that Diluc, despite isolating himself during the previous festivals, reveled. (Reveled on his own, was what they clarified.) It’s a comforting thought that even such a busy man as himself can still enjoy these moments.

And Kaeya wishes he’d see it more.

Diluc willingly taking charge of the Angel Share’s stand instead of Charles? How endearing. Is it really because he’s here for the celebration, or something else?

(Kaeya—and he’s pretty sure, Diluc is, too—hears nearby footsteps. Familiar voices.)

Or someone else?

Whatever it is, Kaeya is fine with either.

“Still baffles me that my suggested proposals got rejected— ah, we’re here. Oh, hi, Kaeya!”

Kaeya sips his beer and smiles at you. “Hey.” And he watches it all unfold again. You smile back at him, before slowly turning to Diluc, who has never taken his eyes off of you ever since your arrival.

You hide a lock of your hair behind your ear timidly. “Hi, Diluc.”

It’s really fascinating to see his brother still so soft with you. People may not notice this, but Kaeya knows Diluc best. “Good evening. What would you like tonight?”

“Ah – my company here—” you turn to the man beside you, a fellow colleague perhaps, and Kaeya seriously has to control himself from smirking. The area’s heating up again. “—would like to try some of the Fruits of the Festival that we’ve been hearing of. Is it still available?”

Diluc nods. “Yours?”

“I don’t want anything, actually—”

“Please, don’t do that,” The man calls out your name, and steps forward. The warmth’s growing. “If you think that you’re treating me tonight, then I’ll be treating you as well. Bartender, I’ll be ordering Wolfhook Juice for this lovely lady.”

The man winks at you, confident with himself, until Diluc breaks the flair by simply saying, “She’s allergic to that.”

Ah, this is great. Kaeya’s considering if he should bring Rosaria or even Lisa along for the drama.

“W–wait, really? You’re allergic to Wolfhook?”

“Ah, D–Diluc—” As much as Kaeya relishes in dear Diluc’s jealousy, your expressions are also just as priceless. Speechless that his amazing brother still has one detail about you memorized? Pfft. Such is a man of great talent who has a knack for processing knowledge in such a short time. He’s a businessman, after all. It’s important to know a lot of things. “You still remember that?”

Diluc doesn’t reply to that question. Instead, he goes on preparing the drink with ease and in silence. Kaeya can feel the awkwardness in the air as they watch Diluc swiftly mix the ingredients, and the man accompanying you merely coughs to dissipate the tension.

“So, um,” The man starts, “I’ve heard that Starsnatch Cliff looks beautiful at this time of night. I was wondering if you’d like to stargaze with me?”

You seem sheepish. “Oh, I—”

There’s a loud thud, surprising everyone, except for Kaeya and Diluc themselves. Diluc has placed the glass in front of the man, face emotionless. “It’s late. Dangerous, even. I recommend that you postpone such a journey.”

Kaeya hides his smile behind his keg. Oh, Diluc. Could you get even more obvious? He wishes to voice out that poor Klee and the other children might get scared because of his ‘grumpy face’ again, but it is late and they’re not here anymore, so it isn’t a valid reason to mention.

Oh, the area’s hotter now. The man is visibly sweating under the intimidating man’s stare. “A–Ah, I see- t–thank you for that then, good sir—”

“Diluc, don’t scare him,” you scold him lightly, and take the glass. “And we’ll be fine, I have a vision.”

His stupid brother’s about to protest, and Kaeya readies himself for another session of ‘Diluc Facepalming Himself Because He Made A Fool of Himself In Front of his Ex’ when you add on:

“Though, Diluc’s right. It’s dangerous to go out right now since I’ve heard from the outriders that the concentration of hilichurl camps around that area is growing in size again. So we shouldn’t go.” You give the man his drink, and gesture him to an empty table. “And didn’t you tell me you’re tired already? Why not sit down for a while?”

Once you two are seated on a table that’s too far for Diluc’s liking, Kaeya sighs and shakes his head. Diluc glowers at him. “What?”

“Attentive as ever.”

“It’s the least I could do,” Diluc says as he crosses his arms.

“The least thing you could do is be attentive to her well–being, even though you’re not her lover anymore?” The temperature intensifies. Oops. Kaeya stepped on something he shouldn’t. But it’s always so fun to get on Diluc’s nerves. “Admit it, you still haven’t moved on.”

Diluc then retorts, “Is it so bad to care for an old friend?” “So that’s what you call her now?”

“Kaeya,” Diluc warns.

“Diluc~” Kaeya pleasantly sings. Then, his lips part into an ‘o.’ “My, I smell something burning. Are you really cooking something up?”

Kaeya doesn’t bat an eyelash on the slightly scorched bartop.

Diluc’s heart is his greatest foe.

He has too much love in his heart, and oftentimes, it causes him great anguish.

He wanted to rip his heart out the night his father passed on. He wanted to stomp on it after causing Kaeya harm.

And he wanted to abandon it, just like how you did.

“Let’s end this,” you told him one dinner, with your head dipped down, not wanting to meet his eyes. You trembled as you anticipated his response, but you didn’t get one. Diluc was left aghast. “This isn’t working for the both of us, Diluc.”

Such was the fate of a Ragnvindr who dedicated his time to protecting the city and thwarting the enemies that threatened his nation. Such is the fate of a Ragnvindr who occupied himself with the winery’s business ventures.

Such was the fate of a Ragnvindr, who, despite having a big heart, had failed his lover.

He wanted to say—maybe we could try again. I will be better this time. He knew he could solve this, if he could think of strategies to counterattack the abyss, or even keep his competitors on their toes with his new business plans, surely, he could remedy this.

“I have too much on my plate. You have too much on yours. Let us end this before we affect each other.”

When your tears cascaded down your cheeks, Diluc wanted to wipe them away. But he couldn’t even move. Not even an inch. How could he, when his heart was being shattered to pieces?

You had too much on your plate? Why didn’t you say anything? You know he’d always be here for you.

So why?

He wanted to say — then let’s face them together.

But you had other plans.

It was over.

And he understood.

“How fortunate that our dear cutie decided to visit this year’s Weinlesefest,” Lisa says as she touches the petals of the cecilias. She’s here in Diluc’s garden. Lisa, for some reason, has the tendency to make unannounced visits. She smiles up at Diluc who’s observing her from the gazebo. “Don’t you feel the same way too, Diluc? That she’s here again, after almost two and a half years.”

Diluc crosses his arms. “I fail to understand why I’d have to voice out my opinions on the matter.”

“Ah, but didn’t you say something to Kaeya? Supposedly, shouldn’t you be happy that an ‘old friend’ came back?”

Diluc averts his gaze, and Lisa smiles even wider before tending back to the flowers.

“She favors these, don't they? Cecilia flowers.” Lisa sniffs one. This one smells very fresh. It’s as if all the flowers here are greatly taken care of. “Oh, this takes me back. I still recall how you and her first met. You two were so adorable! She used to chase you around, desperate for your attention. And despite your attempts to push her away, she still managed to win you over. Her blushing face was the absolute best when you gifted her a bouquet of cecilias. Really, who knew that you could get so romantic?”

Lisa lifts her head and fixates on the clouds. “She’s your first love, right? And you treasured her so.” She checks to see if Diluc’s still there, and he is.

He’s still sulking like the baby he is.

“Diluc?”

Lisa can hear him murmur, but it’s not too audible for her ears to pick up. “I beg your pardon?”

“. . .her favorite.”

Lisa tilts her head. “Favorite?”

“Cecilia flowers.” Diluc says. “They’re not her favorite.”

“Oh, my. So what’s her favorite, then?”

Diluc is reluctant. But he answers anyway. “Small lamp grass flowers.”

Oh, Lisa knows.

She just wanted to hear him say it.

No one knows how much Diluc has struggled during the first months of your breakup with him.

He got moody, at times. Even slept in too much, which was surprising, because he wasn’t the type of person to sleep, not at all, when he had errands to run. He was a business owner by day, and a vigilante by night—he shouldn’t coop himself up inside his quarters all the time just to let his broken heart weep.

So even if those days, those weeks, those months, were nothing but unimaginable suffering – Diluc had to rise. Someone still had to face the darkness for the dawn.

The overseeing of the winery and the scouting of adversaries were great distractions to someone like him.

But he couldn’t deny the fact that whenever he was resting, or even had one moment of leisure, those thoughts canw creeping in. How were you? Where were you? Are you faring well? Do you still yearn for him, as much as he yearns for you?

Are you as ruined as he is?

Diluc didn’t expect that breakups could get this hard. He thought the drunkards in his taverns were over exaggerating it a bit too much because of the alcohol, but now, he could understand.

( He didn’t resort to alcoholism, though. )

He really tried to get over you. He really did. He really tried to forget.

But how could he, when he cherished you so?

How could he, when his heart continuously ached for you? How could he, when he longed for you desperately after you left Mondstadt.

( ”There are plenty of fish in the sea. There are lots of daughters from various nations wanting to be your wife! Why not choose any of them, to fill that hole in your chest?”

The last time a patron told Master Diluc those exact words, he nearly banished them from his tavern. )

Moving on was not an option here, it seemed, when everything reminded Diluc of you.

He saw you everywhere. You liked talking a lot, and he liked listening to you, even before you two were dating. Every experience, every anecdote, every musing, and every vent — he remembered it all.

Diluc knew what type of coffee you liked. At first, you weren’t such a big fan of them, but you found one that suited your taste. ( “Just one cup is enough, though. Two or more will make me palpitate!” ) Pepperoni became your favorite pizza topping when you ate with Jean when she invited you for lunch out of gratitude. ( “Cheesy spinach is a close second!” ) You liked reading books and seemed to get lost in them a lot; you even excitedly discussed your reviews to him of the novels or pieces of information you’ve read. ( “Like can you believe it?! He had a twin brother all along!” or “Now I understand why you have such a big chair in your office! It’s because it signifies your status! ” )

You were so endearing. Diluc really, really loved every bit of you and made sure to give you the love that you deserved. He tried his best as he could to provide you with the affection that you needed.

Yet it still wasn’t enough.

Because if it did, Diluc would still be here at his dining table, reading his documents and sipping coffee with you. If it did, you’d still offer Diluc one slice of pepperoni or cheesy spinach pizza after your lunch with Jean. If it did, you would still bother him underneath the sheets until late hours into the night regarding the mundane and the interesting.

Move on, they said. They were all growing concerned.

Move on, a rational part of him also said. It was for his own good.

But he had always been stubborn.

(

“Master Diluc’s single?! Again?”

“The most eligible bachelor’s throne is his once more.”

“Back off, even if the Master’s single, he won’t give you no heed. Just give up.”

“Come on, support me a little! I just want to give him a good time. Don’t you think I have a chance?”

“Not one bit, lass. Not one bit.” )

Weinlesefest is in full swing—

“Yet here you are, moping.” A green bard sits on the pier beside Diluc, who’s currently throwing rocks onto the surface of the water. “Master Diluc, shouldn’t you be out there and celebrate? Or did you choose to stay here because you haven’t scored a date?”

Diluc narrows his eyes at him curtly, before throwing another stone into the water.

“A silent treatment for me, I see,” The bard strings his lyre, “But I have no worry, for you’ll answer me eventually.”

Diluc sighs. “She’s occupied as of the moment.”

“Oh~? I see that the tables have turned, then?”

Diluc scoffs. Of course he also knows about what had happened before. “Really. What’s your purpose for being here? And stop with your rhyming. It’s annoying me.”

The bard snickers. Stroke a chord it seems. “It’s the second to the last day of this festive event, and I’ve yet to see you participate. Minus the fact of taking care of the Angel Share’s stall, but you must at least do something that’s not related to work.”

“It’s in my blood to dedicate myself when it comes to work.” Diluc throws another stone. “I have no other choice, Venti.”

“Yet here you are, skipping stones?”

“Here I am, skipping stones.”

The bard sighs sadly. As he kicks his legs back and forth, he says - “Do you remember the Thousand-Wind Wine Razor made with the Traveler?”

“Of course. The barrel they used belongs to my winery.”

There’s another silence. Then Venti speaks again. “The wind is many things, you know. It can bring back the soul, and especially, preserve memories—you know of the fact that dandelion seeds are added last as a way of capturing the wind at the very moment when the barrel is sealed. Meaning, the memory of that ‘moment’ is stored in the wine, for all eternity.”

“And your point is?”

“Let yourself be happy this once.”

After the citizens of Mondstadt welcomed the Anemo God, they all felt the gentle breeze kissing their skin as he graciously made himself present into the wind. The children cheered, and the adults raised their cups for a toast. Everyone was having a splendid time.

“To the Anemo Archon!”

You, however, have just finished preparing for your departure back to Sumeru. After packing your belongings and making sure you didn’t leave anything in the inn, you had to go find your companion — who’s still probably busy trying out new drinks.

You sigh at that, a little amused. You also resign to this fate. The journey to Sumeru will have to wait until later. Plus, you haven’t even properly said your goodbyes to the others, so, there’s that.

A polite cough echoes behind you. You turn around, and your heart flutters at the sight of a familiar man. Diluc.

“May I request a bit of your time?” He asks, always so gently.

You’re pleased and surprised, of course - because it’s Diluc. Diluc, who’s obviously seeking you, even if he’s made clear that he’s occupied with duties of the winery.

You want to humor him a little bit, so you snicker. “But what if I don’t want to?” You gesture to your satchel. “I’m preparing for my departure, you see.”

Diluc already knows that, doesn’t he? He doesn’t even react. “If that’s the case, then I respect your decision.”

Oh, that’s a bit disappointing. You kind of want to slap yourself for that. You should’ve just accepted Diluc’s request instead of pulling stuff like this. Why play hard to get, when Diluc’s already—

“But I beg of you,” Diluc adds, and you blink. There’s determination in his eyes, and your heart skips a beat when you notice that there’s also something else. “Before you leave. . . please, spend time with me. All it takes is just a short moment with you, and I’ll be content. I won’t ask for anything more.”

—making initiative, huh.

How can you say no to that?

You smile at him—a little bit too tenderly. “Alright then, Diluc.” You lift a hand, gesturing for him to take it. “Lead the way.”

supposedly this was seriously longer, it had more plot ( i indulged on this way too much when i was writing this but had to omit a lot of stuff because i was getting overboard + wanted to more focus on how diluc interacts with his ex / what he feels about his ex / what he felt without his ex asfghjfk also, here's one screenshot before i deleted this part; i wasn't rlly kidding that it had more substance and it was originally angsty:

anw. shoutout to my bestie who brainstormed with me abt ex diluc hcs it was so fun. lemme share to y'all what we talked abt: 1) we thought that diluc is the type of person who’d date to marry, 2) his heart is so so freaking loyal he'd still pine for his first love, and 3) he falls hard and is stupidly sentimental plus. if he did have an ex, the breakup will def bother / ruin / devastate him, especially when he loved that person sm :(

#diluc x reader #diluc x female reader #melted butter #finally posted one of the requests !!#i still LIVE #/ ignores the pile of backlogs i have to finish #meat anon feel free to share me ur tots abt diluc being an ex because i’m genuinely CURIOUS #aaaackkk #edit: i actually was so obsessed with this i listened to two songs #just to feel it #and write it #oh diluc i love u sm #thank u for this request!!!! 😍

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h0neylevi · 22 days ago

Text

Chapter Two

After a major shift, your life has become a series of monotonous routines. Eat, sleep, go to work, repeat. But when you find a man bleeding on the subway with no idea how he got there, things become anything but ordinary.

General content warnings: isekai/parallel universe, modern AU, mentions of blood and canon-typical violence, some light angst, eventual smut.

chapter warnings: brief discussion of human trafficking

word count: 3.2k

“Where did you find him again?”

“On my way home last night on the subway.”

“... And he was–”

“In the full scout uniform, yeah.”

Your friend and fellow nurse, Allie, pauses in the wake of your words, eyes fixed on the door at the other end of the hall where one of the hospital’s doctors took Levi to be examined.

They’ve been back there for over an hour now, and you’re starting to get nervous. If this goes badly, you’re never going to live it down with your coworkers.

“Is he hot?”

Your jaw hangs when Allie’s words register, and you turn back to her with an incredulous look.

“I told you all that and that’s what you take from it?”

She raises her hands up in a defensive gesture. “I’m just saying, if the universe decided to drop a man into my lap that thought he was Erwin Smith, I would take advantage of the situation.”

That, oddly enough, makes you laugh.

“He isn’t Levi Ackerman,” you say once you’ve calmed down. “He probably just hit his head on the way from a costume party and got confused.”

On the other side of the nurse’s station, Allie groans and gets up. “Where’s your sense of adventure?”

“I’m being realistic,” you defend.

“We see weirder things walk into this hospital every day.”

“I think an anime character come to life would surpass anything we’ve ever seen.”

With a defeated little sigh, she grabs a file and rounds the corner. “Well, whatever he is, I have to get back to work.” She taps the file on your shoulder as she passes. “Have fun with Beyblade. Let me know what Paul says.”

Just as she starts down the corridor, the door at the end of the hall opens and Dr. Paul Holloway exits the exam room. His expression is solemn as he gestures for you to join him.

“Thank you again for doing this on such short notice, Dr. Holloway,” you greet him. “Did you find out anything?”

He looks down for a moment at the clipboard in his hand. “Well, the only thing really to note is that he doesn’t seem to know what year it is or where he is, but all of his tests and scans came back normal. Cognition and reflexes otherwise seem to be just fine.”

He rifles through the pages for a moment before continuing. “There are no drugs in his system, and no significant injuries that I could find that would cause this sort of temporary amnesia, so I would have to refer him out to a specialist if you wanted more answers. But as of now, my only guess could be that maybe he was trafficked and escaped. Possibly in a fugue state for so long that he has no recollection of how he got here.”

You listen intently. That wouldn’t explain the clothes you found him in, but it’s worth considering all the same. Large cities were usually hubs for human trafficking. It’s more likely than Allie’s theory at least.

Dr. Holloway seems to sense your thought process. “He should recover his memories soon, but I would suggest maybe filing a police report. I’m sure he has a family out there somewhere who’s missing him.”

You consider it. “Yeah,” you say, nodding. “I’ll mention it. Thanks again, Dr. Holloway.”

“Of course.”

You wait quietly as he opens the exam room door again and beckons Levi out.

He’s just as passive as ever when he sees you waiting. With a departing nod, Dr. Holloway continues down the hall to another exam room.

“So,” you begin, “how are you feeling?”

“Like a test subject,” Levi grumbles, falling into step with you. “Four-Eyes would love this place.”

You turn to look at him. “Huh?”

“Nothing,” he quickly says. “So, are you satisfied now? I can go?”

You walk through the nearby exit door on the side of the building and onto the street.

“Well, Dr. Holloway didn’t find anything wrong, so I guess you’re welcome to go wherever you like,” you say. “But I really think you should go to the police. I think something really bad has happened to you, Levi. They might be able to help you.”

While you speak, Levi looks around, studying the cars as they pass and the tall buildings.

“Somehow, I doubt that,” he sighs. “I think I’m too far from home to go back.”

The recognition that bleeds through his tone makes you curious. “Do you remember where you’re from?”

“It doesn’t matter.” His mouth twists into a frown. “It’s definitely not around here.”

You want to keep pressing but ultimately decide against it. It isn’t as if it’s any of your business, but you feel a sense of responsibility for his well-being. You were the one who found him, and if you have the means to help him get to where he needs to go, you’d be willing to offer. It isn’t as if you’ve got anything else going on in your life, but you can only do so much when he doesn’t want you to pry into his personal life.

“Well...” you trail off, unsure. “I need to get some groceries but once we get back to my place, I can wash your clothes before you leave. That’ll give you some time to decide what you want to do.”

To your surprise, it doesn’t take him long to agree.

“Okay,” he nods. “Let’s go.”

The supermarket isn’t far from your apartment, so you get onto the city metro together. It’s a familiar route to you, but it’s clear that Levi isn’t accustomed to the amount of people that cram themselves together into the narrow space at once.

There aren’t any seats when you climb on, so you’re forced to stand together in one of the corner exits. At the very least, Levi remembers to grab onto one of the handrails just before the train starts moving—an action that he still seems to find disgusting despite the necessity.

“What?” you laugh at his pinched expression.

“I think I preferred it the way it was last night,” he remarks, not doing anything to hide his distaste while looking around. “How often do these things get cleaned?”

You blink. “Uh, I don’t know. Probably only when something seriously hazardous happens. Like blood or puke.”

The look on his face only grows.

“Don’t worry. I have sanitizer in my bag. I can give you some when we get off,” you promise. “I never got rid of the habit from covid.”

The way Levi’s brows furrow suggest that he doesn’t know what either of those things are either, but you just shake your head, wordlessly promising to explain later.

Once you’re off the train and back out onto the street, you move to the side to pull the aforementioned bottle out of your bag. Levi watches quietly until you reach and squeeze some of the liquid into his upturned palm.

He lifts it closer to his face. “What is this?”

“It’s sanitizer,” you say, rubbing your hands together. “Just rub it in like this. It kills the germs on your hands that you can get from touching random surfaces.”

He follows your example, albeit a bit more slowly, and you set off again down the street.

The rest of the walk is done mostly in silence. Thankfully, Levi doesn’t seem to mind. He chooses mostly to walk along beside you, occasionally looking up at skyscrapers as you pass them or balk at the occasional interaction on the street. There’s a sense of wonder and curiosity that settles on his face, smoothing out the stern glare that you’ve seen him wear since you first found him on the metro.

It really is like he’s never seen anything like it before, and you wonder again about his history. He doesn’t seem afraid of anything, merely curious as he walks, and he carries himself confidently. Like a soldier…

No, that was Allie influencing your thoughts. There’s no way this man was the Levi Ackerman. Even if he had his hair, his stature, the same sullen expression, and similar mannerisms to ones you’ve seen in the anime. It’s an impossible thought. You’re not even considering it.

“What are you staring at?”

You blink and realize that he’s looking at you now and holy shit, his eyes are even that shade of blue-grey.

You turn forward again just as a crosswalk changes for you to go. “Nothing,” you say quickly. “You just… remind me of someone.”

He doesn’t reply—most likely because he doesn’t care—but you’re grateful that he doesn’t pay it any mind.

But by the time you’ve entered the supermarket and grabbed a cart, your curiosity outweighs your hesitation.

“Can I ask you something?”

Beside you, Levi scans the produce aisle you’re approaching with passive interest. “That depends.”

Ignoring him, you press forward. “Is there some reason you won’t tell me what’s going on?”

You speak and he turns to look at you, his brows furrowed.

“I mean, it’s pretty obvious that there’s more to what happened than you’re letting on,” you continue. “And I know it’s none of my business, but…”

“You’re right. It is none of your business.”

The comment stings more than you expect, but you try to quickly brush it off. You don’t know this man, and in a matter of an hour or so he’ll be gone. You’d promised yourself that as long as he was healthy, you wouldn’t meddle.

But after everything you’ve done for him, it still feels unfair to treat you so dismissively. He acts like you’re a nuisance more than the person who cleaned him up and gave him a place to sleep out of the cold.

The ensuing silence is tense. You push your cart forward, suddenly eager to get out as quickly as possible. The faster you get home, the quicker he leaves. If that’s what he wants after everything you’ve done, he can have it.

You’re moving through the selection of deli cheeses when Levi speaks up again.

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” he says in a low voice. “I wouldn’t believe it myself if I wasn’t witnessing it with my own eyes.”

You look around, following his gaze as it skims over the refrigerated walls of pre-packaged meat and cheese.

“What are you talking about? It’s a grocery store.”

He huffs. “That doctor said the year was 2024.”

You change course, leading the way into an aisle of canned goods. “Yeah?”

It’s quiet for a long moment. Levi’s arms are crossed over his chest as he follows along.

“I don’t know how it happened, but I’m not from here.” He pauses for a moment as you pull some cans from a shelf and place them in your cart. “I’m not from this time.”

You stop for a moment and look at him. On his face is the same look he had the night before, that same sincerity when he told you he’d been looking for some sort of headquarters.

You can’t help it. You chuckle. “You’re talking about time travel.”

“If that’s what you want to call it.”

You continue down the aisle and turn into the next one. “Levi, there’s never been a recorded instance of time travel…ever. It’s never happened.”

Levi rolls his eyes. “See? You don’t believe me.”

“It isn’t about believing you. It’s impossible.”

But even as you say it, you don’t feel entirely convinced that it’s true.

Improbable, sure. Very unlikely. Insane that you’re even considering it, but the more you think about it, the more the pieces seem to fall into place.

The way you found him, his clothes, the way he looks around at everything like he’s seeing it all for the first time. There’s no indication that he has a serious head injury, so you can’t fall back on that anymore. And the trafficking? Well… You’ve been trained to look for red flags, and nothing about his situation seems to fit with that explanation.

Plus, there are the coins you found in the pockets of his clothes this morning. Copper and silver ones bearing symbols you don’t recognize. The silhouette of a woman in a crown.

You’d looked up every conceivable country that you could think of that might fit the bill and nothing had matched.

There’s no way that what he’s saying is true though, right? If you believe him, you’d have to believe all of it—meaning that he is Levi Ackerman and that the events of Attack on Titan are real.

No, that’s silly. In all of recorded history, there’s never been a single event that coincides with the existence of man-eating titans. Belief in giants is a fringe theory not backed by actual evidence.

But, still. Just to humor him.

“What time are you from then?” you ask.

“854.”

You stop and stare at him. “You realize that’s…over a thousand years ago, right?”

With his mouth in a thin line, Levi nods.

You continue to stare, waiting for a break in his composure. The inevitable laugh that will surely come, marking this entire conversation as a joke, but it never comes.

“You’re serious,” you finally say.

Levi blinks. “You believe me?”

God, what do you believe? “I…” You bring your hands to your face. The middle of the pasta aisle is not the place to be weighing the possibility of time travel. “No,” you finally say. “I mean, I don’t know…can you prove it?”

Levi raises a brow. “How am I supposed to prove it to you?”

“I don’t know. You’re the one claiming to be over a thousand years old.”

“I’m not claiming to be—” he cuts himself off with an irritated sigh. “You’re just as bad as the brats back home.”

Something in your patience finally snaps.

You start walking again, needing space. “You know, you could stand to be a bit nicer to me considering all I’ve done for you.”

For a long moment, there’s only the rattling sound of the cart’s wheels as they roll down the aisle.

“I am grateful,” Levi finally says, surprisingly still following next to you. “But I didn’t ask you to interfere.”

“Well, most people wouldn’t have just left a man to bleed all over the metro. I’m sorry I have basic human decency.”

“Basic human decency would have been pointing me in the direction of the nearest sink,” he points out. “You let me sleep on your couch.”

You turn to glare at him. “I’m sorry, are you complaining right now?”

“I’m saying that I don’t like owing people,” he says.

You resist the urge to roll your eyes. “You don’t owe me anything. I would have done the same thing for anyone.”

Levi doesn’t look like he completely believes you, but at least he lets the matter rest.

He follows you the rest of the way through the store in thoughtful silence.

Left to your own devices, you grab things without thinking, relying on muscle memory to lead you to the items you usually buy. It isn’t as if you deviate much from your favorite meals, so the rest of the process is quick.

By the time you’ve grabbed everything you need, your mood has improved enough that you feel a bit remorseful for doubting him.

Even if it was a weird idea, Levi appeared genuine. Like Dr. Holloway had said, he’d probably regain his memories soon. If he really didn’t remember anything about modern life, he was going to need someone to help him.

Maybe he shouldn’t leave so soon.

It isn’t until you turn around to speak that you realize you’re alone. A quick look around the aisle confirms that Levi’s nowhere to be seen. That’s odd. When had he wandered off?

You begin searching back through the aisles and after a few minutes, you spot him. Standing in front of the long, neat shelves lined with tea and coffee. Something akin to dread settles into your stomach at the sight.

He glances over as you approach and places a box back on the shelf. A beat passes before he clears his throat and says, “I’ve never seen so much tea in one place before.”

“Do you want some?” you ask, glancing at the box he put back—a black tea blend. He doesn’t respond, simply skimming over the labels again with a peculiar glint in his eye.

You don’t wait for an answer and pluck the box off of the shelf. He doesn’t stop you as you place it into your cart.

It’s a truce. An apology and an acknowledgment that you’re helping him all in one.

You turn your cart back around and lead the way toward the front. “I’m all done. Let’s go.”

The walk back home isn’t as tense as before, but it isn’t exactly comfortable either.

You keep watching Levi every chance you get. He appears more thoughtful. His gaze lingers just as it always has on the buildings and the people walking past. Cars, billboards, restaurants, all of it.

It’s got to be overwhelming. Not that you're believing him, but if he believes that he isn’t from this time, it has to be a shock to see so many unfamiliar things at once.

“What are you thinking about?” you finally ask.

His expression remains passive as he takes a deep breath, like he’s grounding himself. “Everything just looks so…”

“Artificial?” you supply when he pauses, but the look on his face tells you he’s confused by the word you use. You try again. “Uh, not natural?”

“I was going to say clean.” His voice goes soft as he looks around again. “The air is clean.”

Not sure how to respond, you turn forward and continue down the street.

It doesn’t take much longer to reach your apartment.

Levi helps carry the bags of groceries upstairs and into your kitchen, where he stands awkwardly as you unload everything into their respective spots. Luna, still curious, climbs onto the table nearby, making Levi scowl.

Surprisingly, he doesn’t shoo her away when he decides to take a seat, and he even goes so far as to let her sniff him as he looks out of the window.

You smile when you hear her chirp. A noise that you know she makes when she feels like she’s being ignored.

“You can pet her, you know?” you look over your shoulder to tell him.

He meets you with a bored look. “I know. I don’t want to.”

As if she can understand him, Luna meows again.

After you put the last item away in your fridge, you move to sit at the table across from him.

“So what are you going to do?” you ask.

“I don’t know,” he replies, and for the first time, he sounds truly at a loss.

“Well, you’re welcome to keep staying here for a bit longer,” you say, petting Luna when she slinks over to you. “Until we figure something out.”

His eyes narrow slightly. “We,” he repeats.

You meet his gaze evenly. “Look, I don’t know where you came from or how you got here, but you’re here now and you’re still a human being. As long as you’re open to letting me help, I will.”

He seems to think on it for a moment before agreeing. “There are worse things in the world, I suppose.”

And you think that’s as close to a thank you as you’ll get.

#levi ackerman x fem!reader #levi ackerman x reader #levi x reader #levi ackerman x you #levi ackerman fic #aot fic

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wangxianficfinder · 2 months ago

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Fic Finder

Nov 4th

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1. A) Hello! I am looking for a couple of pics that I have been unable to find. They may have already been found, but if so, I am missing them. First one is Wei Wing dies at the siege and is transported back a thousand years or so, before the sects started up I believe. He becomes immortal or a god, can't remember which and travels to learn other magic and cultivations while he waits for the years to catch up to when he was born. I think its a wangxian pairing, but not sure.

B) Hello! Looking for a fic where Wei Ying is not oblivious to his feelings for Lan Zhan. He asks Lan Zhan on basically a date to the town, and the part I remember is he deliberately didn't take an umbrella/coat because according to Nie Huaisang, it would be a perfect romantic opportunity to have Lan Zhan offer the umbrella/coat or vice versa. Lan Zhan thinks Wei Wing is just playing with him and I remember a scene where Wei Ying proves his intention with a kiss and Lan Zhan believes him. @marietsy40-blog

1A)

FOUND? An Unusual Betrothal series by ahealthydoseof (G, 74k, wangxian, time travel, age difference, immortality, BAMF WWX, younger LWJ, older WWX, misunderstandings, fluff & crack, worried parents, rabbits, food, non-sexual intimacy, murder, fix-it of sorts, developing relationship, humor, arranged marriage, jealousy, friendship, family feels, dysfunctional family, fatherhood, angst, hurt/comfort, mentor WWX, natural disasters, sworn brotherhood, serious injuries, kissing)

1B)

FOUND? 🧡 Stunted, Starving Juvenility by TomatenMark (E, 887k, WangXian, WIP, Fix-it of sorts, Talisman master WWX, Not JFM Friendly, Study Arc, Getting together, Fluff and Angst, Engagement)

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2. hi! i’m looking for a fic where wangxian friends and family try to arrange them to get married (i think maybe post sunshot campaign). lxc brought in jgy to help him with negotiations, while jyl and jwy bring nhs to help them. they try to find wx to tell them only to find out they basically ran of and eloped (without knowing that this was happening). the fic should be completed and around 3-8 chapters. thanks! @monyeorel

FOUND? i believe that we can make it (i believe in all of you) by Stratisphyre (T, 17k, WangXian, 3Zun, Canon Divergence, Wedding Planning for Love and Justice, Golden Core Reveal, Getting Together, Everybody Lives)

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3. Hello I want ask something... I can't seem to find this fanfiction I have once read long time ago but this is mainly wangxian ofc and what I remember that this fanfic is modern, wei ying I think he was going to debut or not? Lan zhan is his teacher? Since he called him xiansheng (something like that) Jiang yanli is married to Jin Zixuan in this. Wei ying keeps on updating on social media something like that.

FOUND? 🧡 I Don’t Want to Debut! by countingcr0ws (G, 56k, WangXian, Modern AU, Reality show, Idols, Actor LWJ, Forced Contestant WWX, Tencent’s 2021 Idol Producer)

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4. For fic finder: the allied sects are losing the sunshot campaign so they ask for the aid of the immortal yilling patriarch. He agrees, in return for lwj's hand in marriage. Lwj is very concerned but he gets to burial mounds and finds things are fine actually but there are a lot of unruly children. He starts teaching them and living life, confused by his mostly cold and distant but sometimes friendly husband. Turns out wwx is falling in love with him but thinks lwj is a spy for the jin and after the tiger seal, and married him because he wanted to catch him in the act and make him be a double agent. Lwj is unaware that the jin sect even has designs against his husband because he hates politics. He discovers this after he nearly dies defending A-Qing from an attack by Xue Yang and wwx comes clean. I could say more because i remember a lot about this fic but not the important information like name or author. Thanks!

FOUND! 💖🔒 love, in fire and blood by cicer (E, 360k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, YLLZ WWX, Arranged Marriage, political scheming, Gratuitous Domesticity, Mutual Pining, EXTREME SLOWBURN, the inherent eroticism of the forehead ribbon, The Mortifying Ordeal of Being Known, neither wwx nor lwj want to be Perceived, but sorry kids! it’s gonna happen!, rated E but the the NSFW stuff doesn’t begin until chapter 19!, bottom LWJ in chapter 20 and 27, Mojo’s post)

NOT FOUND!🔒and having a marvelous time by varnes (E, 108k, WangXian, Yúnmèng Siblings, Sound of Music AU, (i know!!! i know. stay with me on this.), Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, Family Feels, spies to lovers???, Protective Siblings, Sometimes You Just Want Your Dads To Admit They’re Your Dads, Angst with a Happy Ending) Pretty sure the bunch of kids in the burial mounds fic sounds like Varnes' delightful sound of music au "and having a wonderful time" but there are at least three fics I've read that come close to that.

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5. good dayy!! do you guys know this story. i forgot the title and been using modern with magic tag but i cant find it. i dont know anymore but the story is like this:

its a modern with magic, madam lan is one of the teacher and one of her student is wwx. there's a scene where wwx visited his brother in the alpha dormitory then lwj saved him(?) from some rude alpha. there's two version of it, alpha lwj x omega wwx and omega lwj and alpha wwx. there's a mission(?) and he met wwx outside the university, they also shared a room. omega wwx also has a solo room for being the only male omega.

the omega lwj version of it is lwj owns a 2 stuffed toy bunnies, he told wwx their names and wwx said it to madam lan.

im not sure if im mixing different stories or if i remember it right but i hope u'all can help me. thank uu in advance!

FOUND? 🔒 Other Half series by Hanguang_Jun, Wuxian_Biscuit (Charlie_Biscuit) (E, 819k, WangXian, JC/LWJ, WWX/Self, LWJ/Self, LWJ/WWX/JC, LWJ/JGY/WWX, Roleplay, Fantasy, Magic, Omegaverse, Friends to Lovers, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff and Smut, Switch WangXian, Bottom LWJ, Alpha LWJ, Slow Burn, Omega WWX, eventual mpreg, Alpha/Alpha, LWJ gets off on submitting to another alpha, Blow Jobs, Anal Sex, Knotting, If LWJ being submissive puts you off then do not read this, Top JC, Top WWX, Omega LWJ, Alpha WWX, From Sex to Love, Tentacle Porn, Safewords, Rude LWJ, A bit of magic recreational drug use, Sex Toys, Lingerie, Omega/Omega, Alpha JC, a/o and o/o and a/a, Selfcest, A bit of dark wangxian (but it's not permanent), Non-Consensual Voyeurism, Accidental Voyeurism, JC does not interact with wangxian, Intersex Omegas, Pregnancy, Consensual Non-Consent, Vaginal Sex, Bondage, Omega JGY, Bodyswap, Dubious Consent, Due to Basic Premise, Knifeplay, Choking, Birth)

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6. Hello, I am searching for a modern wangxian fic on ao3 where wei ying is invited in Jiang yanli's wedding. Nie huaisang is the wedding planner and Meng yao is his assistant. The wedding is at the time of Christmas and they played a game that each one will send another a gift till Christmas and the receiver's name is decided through lottery. Lan wangji was the one who was giving gifts for this and wei ying was giving gifts to yu ziyuan. All the names will be revealed at the day of Christmas.

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7. I don’t know if it got deleted or I just didn’t bookmark it but I’m looking for a fic with Fox!WWX. LWJ is maybe a dragon or just a regular cultivator who helps him get all of his 9 tails through dual cultivation so it’s rated M or E. i feel bad i don’t remember much more but any leads will be greatly appreciated 🥺 thank you for all your work

FOUND? 💖 Paths of Light and Darkness Converge by ataratah (E, 30k, wangxian, fox WWX, dragon LWJ, secret identity, non-human genitelia, crack treated seriously, fluff, angst w/ happy ending)

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8. im looking for a fic where Wie ying became a god after death saved Mo Xuanyu and adopted him when he trayed to bring him back . wie ying changed his hair to white and his eyes red @leo1fan

FOUND? Wuqian, the Local God of Yiling by Grace_ShadowWolf (TaubeLePigeon) (M, 80k, wangxian, WWX & LSZ & LWJ, major character death, canon divergence, angst w/ happy ending, god WWX, Chinese mythology & folklore, pining, temporary character death, WIP)

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9. hi im looking for this fic where xue yang and xiao xingchen are dating, and then one day song lan (xiao xingchen's ex) comes back so xue yang lets those two get together even though he feels very jealous, and then one day him and song lan hook up and later they become a throuple @ashxi-wx

FOUND? Fine Line by fouxes (arundels) (E, 13k, SL/XXC/XY, Modern, Polyamory Negotiations, Polyamory, Minor Violence, Hate Sex, Love/Hate, Love Rivals to Lovers, XXC is kinda useless in this sorry, Not Super Healthy Relationship Dynamics, but nothing crazy terrible, also XY is a cage fighter cos why not) it used to be posted under a different pseudonym of theirs

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10. I’m trying to find a reaction fic that takes place after the siege on Burial Mounds. I remember that the sect leaders are having a meeting at Lotus Pier and get trapped in a room by Chenqing to watch WWX’s life. Suibian also later gets involved and they also get LWJ and a-yuan to join.

FOUND? Seeking Solace by Devourer Of Worlds (Taer01), DragonHeart (Taer01), Taer01 (M, 124k, WangXian, Major Character Death, Graphic Depictions of Violence, Hurt, Heavy Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Mental Anguish, Mental Instability, Canon Compliant, Fluff, Blood and Gore, Blood and Injury, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Torture, Canon Divergence)

FOUND? Misunderstood by Silver_Flame_2724 (M, 250k, WIP, WangXian, JYL/JZX, Fluff, Eventual Smut, Heavy Angst With Eventual Happy Ending, Family Feels, Family Angst, Misunderstandings, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Family Fluff, Canon Divergence, Not Everyone Dies, by that I mean the bad guys will die, Hurt, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Suicidal Thoughts, Gore, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Mental Breakdown, Night Terrors, Canon-Typical Violence, Self-Worth Issues, Self-Destruction, Dubious Morality, (not WWX of course), Cannibalism, Reincarnation, PTSD, Internally Screaming LWJ, Demonic Possession, MXY Lives, Scum Villain References, WWX Has an Angry LWJ Kink)

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11. Hello ! I've been looking for a fic for a long time and I can't find it.

It's in the post-canon, wangxian are married and investigate a ghost woman who attacks white-dressed cultivators. In fact, this woman has feelings for Lan zhan and seeks to have him all for herself.

At one point, under a disguise she tries to trap them by wanting to make Wei Ying believe that Lan Zhan is cheating on him with her and Wei Ying pretends to be jealous and angry against Lan Zhan who immediately understands the plan.

In short, I really liked this fic because it really showed this precious trust between the two and I really want to read it again and this time save it in my bookmarks 🥺 @wesenyr

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12. Hi ! I am looking for a popular fic, where WWX participates at the Great British Baking Show (or something equivalent) and LWJ is a cameraman. NHS and LXC are the hosts and LQR is one of the judges.

Thank you ! @massivecollateralproblem

FOUND! on your marks, get set, bake! by BlackWiresOnHerHead (G, 41k, Modern, College/University, The Great British Bake Off AU, Humor, no GBBO knowledge required for entry)

~*~

13. Hi, I’m trying to find two older fics, A) the first I remember it being on AO3, and I want to say it had more than one part to it. Basically when Wei Ying came back and then of course ended up in Gusu Lan, Lan Zhan had a son (not A-Yuan) but like another child that was his and Wei Yings, A-Yuan is also present though. He’s very much like how he is presented in the novel, but the child that was Lan Zhans and Wei Yings is more like Wei Ying. A bit of a trouble maker, kind of aggressive maybe. Energetic? Lan Zhan of course clocks that Wei Ying is Wei Ying, but they wait a while before actually telling the kid that this now seemingly random figure in his life is his father. And if I remember correctly the kid doesn’t take it well right away.

I also could be combining to fics in my memory, but I also want to say Lan Zhan may have had chronic pain, or he had been whipped while pregnant and he was just gonna roll with it until he collapsed early and they found out about the pregnancy.

B) The second definitely was on AO3 as well, with multiple parts. But I remember Lan Zhan definitely had chronic pain and weakness from being whipped. I specifically remember he has scars that snake down to his hand, and that arm/hand is visibly smaller or weaker looking compared to his other. At first he won’t eat or drink in front of Wei Ying because of it. His hand shakes I think. He also keeps his hair braided to the side so it doesn’t touch his scars, that way he doesn’t have to use his core as much to dampen the pain. He travels in the winter because the cold makes his pain worse. A-Yuan is also present in this fic. I think there’s a coming of age type ceremony at the end…. Although that could be a part of the first fic I’m looking for. @captainimpossiblyangrycolle-blog

13A)

FOUND? in a river you wade by bleuett (M, 20k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Mpreg, Postpartum Depression, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Good Uncle LQR, Family Feels, Happy Ending, Kid Fic)

13B)

FOUND? 🔒 the map of days by everythingispoetry (M, 20k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Permanent Injury, Recovery, Disability, Parenthood, Character Study, Thirteen Years of WWX’s Death) the little details sound like "the map of days by everythingispoetry" i do not know for certain though

~*~

14. Hey!! Thank you so much for all your hard work.

I read a fic ages ago, that the themes have really stuck with me, but for the life of me I cannot find!!

It was in the veins of heavy angst? hurt no comfort maybe? but i dont remember how it ended!

It was from (mostly?) wwx’s perspective, the plot was basically how broken & damaged wwx was as demonic cultivation/starvation were slowly killing him? None of his injures had ever healed since he lost his core (he had a broken back !?). A key point (I think) was that none of the people around him really realised how badly injured/how much pain he was in. They knew he wasn’t well but not that he was being pretty much held together by resentful energy. Even Wen Qing didn’t fully understand his condition I believe?

Maybe knowning he was dyinging wwx set out to destroy the st seal (or did???) as a final release??

I think it did kill him but I’m not quite sure, i think i remember Jyl & Lwj having a scene where they are mourning him together or commiserating over how ravaged wwx’s body is. I think they also realised wwx never intended to survive destroying the seal??

I’m desperate to read it again but for all my searching I cannot find it at all, hopefully someone knows it!

Have a great day! @3f2pmb

FOUND? 梅花开放 | the plum blossoms bloom by doubletan (E, 6k, WangXian, Sickfic, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Established Relationship, Yunmeng Bros Reconciliation, Post-Canon, Anal Sex, Kissing, Crying, a lot of crying)

FOUND? The Fire Lapping Up the Creek by notevenyou (E, 66k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Hurt/Comfort, Canon-Typical Violence, Injury, Injury Recovery, Blood, Respiratory Illness, Major Illness, Fever, Grief/Mourning, Burial Mounds, Angst with a Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Hunger and food scarcity, Surgery, Fix-It of Sorts)

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15. Hi! This is for ficfinder. I dont remember much. The scene that i remember is someone send an assassin for baby jin ling but he survives because if wwx gift and the assassin is killed by ewx who visit him. Another scene is JGS wants to assault JYL but failed because if wwx gift too. And everyone found out about it and embrassed JGS. That all i can remember. Thanks! @idontknowwhattowriteforusername

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16. Hi I’m not sure if this is where I ask but I’m looking for a fic. The plot was that after wei Ying died Lan Zhan went to the burial mounds and found A Yuàn. For some reason this made Lan Zhan go into heat ( cause of grief or finding a malnourished child. idk ) and then he didn’t have a heat since. I think it then skipped to the future and Lan Zhan was like a ‘broken omega’ cause he didn’t get heats then I think wei Ying came back and things got fixed ?? Thx for any help u can give

~*~

17. Hello, I am looking for a fic. It's set during a canonish era war and follows WWX. I think he's on his own leading troops and not with other main characters. After things are done the Madame Yu and JC are found to have committed war crimes. She is executed and JC is made to go help the people they harmed w/ his core sealed for a number of years. Any help is appreciated.

FOUND? 🔒 Crossing Paths by Ilona22 (M, 21k, wangxian, shapeshifter au, graphic depictions of violence, war between sects, war crimes, not JC friendly, happy ending)

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18. I need help finding a fic. I remember it was during CR era (I think) and LWJ gets cursed into having a lady part and the only way for him to return to his previous form is to orgasm. He doesnt know how to do that with female parts and WWX offers to help him with it. Starts off slow but they end up having sex multiple times over multiple nights. LWJ eventually gets close to an orgasm but stops WWX cause he thinks breaking the curse would mean he and WWX have to stop having sex. @727432rehhjkdjhe

FOUND? Coming Back to Yourself by acernor (E, 21k, wangxian, Vaginal Fingering, Cunnilingus, Oral Sex, Pining, Gender or Sex Swap, Vaginal Sex)

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19. looking for a fic in which wwx and jc are at a cultivation conference and lwj is terrifying actually. kinda yunmeng bros reconciliation but idk??? @skyerie

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20. Hi!! I'm trying to find a fic I'veread a while ago, but I can't find it anywhere. Wy, once reborn, didn't see Lz's scars while Lz was bathing in the cold springs and he tried to steal the jade pass. Once they get together is where the plot kinda flees from my mind. I don't remember if Lz only ever had sex with Wy if he (Lz) was almost fully clothed or if he just straight up refused to be intimate. I guess Wy fearing that Lz didn't find his new body attractive and voicing that fear to Lz is what makes Lz tell him the truth??? I'm not sure tho. Anyways, in the end, Lz reveals the scars that the discipline whip left on him, and tells Wy that he's never been ashamed of his scars, but that once Wy came back and they got together, he became terrified that Wy would find repulsive how deformed the scars made his back look.

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21. hello! do you know of the dad!lwj fic where wwx falls in love with a-yuan and lwj via video calls

FOUND?🔒Wishing on Runway Lights by inflight_gremlin (E, 45k, WangXian, LSZ & LWJ, LSZ & WWX, LSZ & OYZZ, Modern, Pilot LWJ, Flight Attendant WWX, Single Parent LWJ, Meet-Cute, Relationship Speed-Run, Matchmaker LSZ, Adopted LSZ, Domestic Fluff, Brief Mention of Child Neglect (not from wangxian), Happy Ending, Eventual Smut, POV Alternating, LSZ Knows What He Wants, Slight Misunderstanding, Sexual Tension, no one is skipping meals, romcom vibes, Attempt at hallmark movie feels, Temporary Accidental Child Aquisition)

~*~

#wangxian #mdzs #wangxian fic finder #wangxian fic search #the untamed #wangxianficfinder #long post

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seikkoi · 1 month ago

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ꜱᴜɢᴀʀ | dom!tony stark x sugarbaby!reader ( ᴄʀɪᴍᴇ!ᴀᴜ )

ᴘᴀʀᴛ ꜰɪᴠᴇ [1, 2, 3, 4] | ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴏɴ ᴀᴏ3

There was nothing that could keep Tony from having exactly what he wanted—and he deserved a little sweetness in his life. All he had to do was keep from ruining you in the process.

content/warnings: 18+ minors do not interact. non-canon, non-superhero au, sub/dom undertones, slight emotional/verbal manipulation, obsessive + possessive behavior, age gap (reader described as mid-twenties, t.s as mid-forties), mildly dubious consensual situations, explicit mentions of alcohol and drug use, generally not for the light of heart, rough sexual content, reader described as petite word count: 9.8k

There isn’t any conversation surrounding Pepper’s visit, or the divorce, but it’s all around you regardless.

Random items disappear from the penthouse–a Pollock (your present takes its place), some throw pillows from the study, and a few Turkish ceramics you never knew existed. The phone rings far more than you care for. Tony has far more meetings than you care for. A bespeckled lawyer and his blonde associate nearly become housemates, spending hours behind the frosted glass door. Natasha makes a few appearances as well, which confuses you the most. You find the spice in her perfume too bold.

On her third exit in as many weeks, you question Tony on it. He absently traces patterns on your calves, seemingly not paying attention to you or the film on screen.

“Should I be worried?” you hide your sincerity behind a glass of wine, twirling the stem between your fingers. The red liquid mirrors the motion inside, spidering against the walls.

“About Natasha?” he asks incredulously.

“Yes,” you draw out, “and you–all of it, really.”

“Now why on Earth would you be worrying about me?”

You would love to point out the obvious and address the building-sized elephant in the room that says ‘you’re recently sober and just got a divorce’ but the look on his face tells you it’s unnecessary.

Tony finds a way to answer the unasked anyways.

“It’s a shit ton of paperwork, and signing things, so it’s annoying, yes but I am fine. Scouts honor.”

He kisses your hand and grins with all the confidence in the world. It’s so fucking arcane each time–close to magic in how it undos every worry and mirrors his gleam.

You wished it had more permanent effects. Something long-lasting and memorable. Easy to spread over the evening and into the early morning hours, when he’s inconsolable in your arms. You could turn it back into magic words. Banish whatever miasma racked his body and go back to peaceful nights (because you had those at some point, right?).

Being able to ask the hard questions doesn’t mean shit if the answer’s always a dismissive work of fiction. You never learned what caused their separation, or sent ‘everything to shit’ as Tony put it. Not because you didn’t ask, no that question came the same night Pepper did. Apparently it’s the same driver of every modern American divorce–money. Tony summarizes the event as a fatal disagreement over corporate shares, though like always you feel you’re being told an official story. Clean cut with all messy details chopped away.

“You don’t have a signature stamp at this point?” you joke.

“Oh no,” Tony’s hands brace your ankles to pull you closer, “ every squiggle needs to be authentic and fresh.”

“Right, how could I assume anything less.” Your eyes roll but you let your legs drape over his lap.

“Seriously, I’m doing fine–things will calm back down soon.” A gentle squeeze drives the point home.

A thought crosses your mind. An insecurity, really, but one you haven’t let go since meeting Pepper.

“If it’s like, I don’t know,” you hesitate under Tony’s raised eyebrow, “–I can head back to my apartment if it’s too much.”

Stark Industries was still footing the bill even though you spent less than 10 hours there in the last two months. There’s a fear in overstaying your welcome, or whatever it is you were doing here. Either way, you figured it was less than ideal to have your girlfriend around during a divorce.

“If what’s too much?”

“I don’t know, if you need your space right now or–” you answer exasperatedly.

“Honey,” he gives a hearty laugh, “if I ever start asking for space, call a doctor.”

All resistance becomes futile.

You keep your apartment (for unnecessary security), but more time lapses between visits. You issue a long overdue farewell to bartending. Even being driven, the commute to that side of town is hellish and the whole thing got more pointless with each day. You drank in the fruits of this life, but not without a tiny bit of unease. It’s unease that you bury down under all the other feelings. The affection, the simplicity, the serenity. So you swap mixers for paintbrushes and solitude for the man you love.

Other subtle changes require a quicker adjustment, but you’re getting dangerously good at adapting. With Tony’s birthday past, you recognize a pattern to Harley’s visits. Every three months like clockwork. You begin to anticipate them well enough, and start appreciating his occasional presence during your early morning tea. By his third appearance, you brew two cups.

On the first visit he barely utters a word. You were ready for some witty insult that never came, and offered him a cup in silence. You want to ask why he arrives so early just to sit in his father’s kitchen, but opt for peace instead.

Once Pepper’s placard is gone in the parking garage and Natasha stops showing up (at all hours of the day, atleast), he’s there a second time.

“How he’s doing with the,” he trails off, peering at you over an empty mug as the sun starts to break. He doesn’t need to motion at the empty space for you to pick up his meaning.

The official story is dancing on your tongue. The one you’ve told two times over at this point (Jarvis, Natasha). He's perfectly fine, better even. It was a piece of cake then, but now you can’t seem to look Harvey in the eye and speak in half-truths.

“Honestly,” you sigh, “Good–not good, I don’t know.” You were dying under the irony of it all. Consoling Tony in the darkness of morning and then watching him make million dollar deals by noon. You don’t know how he’s managing any of it, and if any of this qualifies as okay.

Green eyes blink slowly through an overgrown fringe. Barbers were clearly scarce in the last three months, wherever he spent them. Exhaustion forces a yawn before he speaks again, pinching his nose.

“Figured as much.” Harley stands for the sink.

He goes through the labor of washing the ebony cup, a rare quirk amongst the obscenely rich. You’d learned they are very reliant upon their quiet servants. You wondered if he did it out of modesty or good manners.

“Do you know why they separated?” If he was in the mood to talk about Tony, you weren’t going to pass up the chance.

“Uh, something with the company, her share or whatever. Always about the money with them.” he answers casually, tossing a look over his shoulder.

It’s genuine enough, but all too similar to the rehearsed lines. You half-expected him to call you nosy.

“No real loss there.” Harley adds, a hint of disdain in his voice

“Not a fan I take it?” The flimsy tag finally crumbling under your ministrations.

He chortles as he slumps back into the bar stool.

“Pepper can be, uh,” A yawn and an eye rub take precedence, “overbearing, yeah that’s a good word for it.”

“Yeah, can’t imagine that worked well for Tony.” You murmur into your tea.

“Oh it most definitely did not.” Harley laughs again. “Not for a guy that does the opposite of whatever you tell him.”

His laugh is infectious (like father like son), and you smirk even though instead the mental picture makes you cringe. A lull passes between you. Outside, morning traffic begins, trickling upwards to interrupt the quiet. It cues Harley to get back to whatever it is he comes here to do, while you move on with the day.

As an advantage of all the free time, you get to invest more time in your estranged friendships. Being around old friends turned out to be surprisingly good. You had anticipated more awkwardness, but there was something comforting about not having to wear a mask for once around someone besides your boyfriend.

At this point, you slowly filled in a few close ones about your relationship with Tony. Clearly you were in this for the long haul, and keeping things under wraps was becoming futile. The general consensus was positive, thankfully. Obviously, that’s due to a great deal of details being omitted. The act left a sour taste in your mouth. Not from the content–how easy it was. You hated to repeat such behaviors, but it was less complicated this way. You wouldn’t have to labor through justifying your relationship, or hear concerns you didn’t already have.

Tony’s reception was, oddly, less positive. He didn’t care much for your old ‘starving artist’ clique. He thought you should take advantage of his access to New York’s greatest–the real pioneers. It took little arguing from you for him to drop that thought entirely, and he conceded to just be happy to see you happy.

Like good friends, they tease about your newfound love. One asks when they’ll get to meet ‘Mr. CEO’ and you have to brush it off casually. You like your worlds better separate.

A sweltering autumn soon becomes frostbitten winter. This gives you less light to work with, resorting to find shuddering shoulders in complete darkness. You don’t think it’s worth searching for warmer pastures or a simpler life. No, you order a cashmere robe and get used to seeing by touch.

Late nights in the tower turn out to be a great place to hone such skills. The halls are narrow and void of any windows, so you ghost the pads of your fingers around for customary shapes. A cushioned nook and a neglected book lull you into a nap one evening and you wake past the sunset. If you were able to sleep so late undisturbed, Tony must be preoccupied. You planned to tiptoe into the kitchen without a sound, but your ears catch words murmured behind the glass. The door is cracked slightly, just enough to let a streak of light breaks across the hardwood floor

“–fifteen, ten, maybe if we’re lucky.”

The bespeckled man’s words are measured, precise as usual. You can almost picture his lips barely parting to utter syllables behind round-trim frames.

“Jesus christ–the fuck am I paying you for? Because I am paying you, like a metric shit ton”

At Tony’s voice, you press closer.

“I’m not the idiot getting a divorce.”

“Okay, okay, let’s just stay focused here.” Natasha raises her voice above the two men, and you hear a chair drag across the office.

“Uh-uh, don’t think you’re getting off scot free–we wouldn’t even be having this conversation if you did your job a tad better too.”

“I will say it was ‘lot easier to spread the financials between two people.”

Social norms concerning privacy start to get to you, urging your feet to pivot and take you back upstairs. Your escape goes undetected, and you seek refuge in the shower.

You wash the day away under warm jetstreams. Part of your mind is stuck replaying everything, wondering how he was handling it all, trying not to indulge in the urge to check the sink drawer. In a flash, you toss the thought away. It’s easy to not overthink at this hour. Especially when coconut vanilla soap tugs you back towards exhaustion. You make it back out to the bedroom, where you find Tony removing his shoes at the end of the bed.

He smiles at the crack of light from the bathroom. Tony’s days were getting longer while the rest of the hemisphere’s got shorter. He would say he missed when life was simple, but he can’t remember such a time. Life growing up was anything but simple, then the older he got the more it sucked out every ounce of his energy. Everything after became, well, everything after.

Picturing a new future keeps him going. One in a coastal city, something global like New York but much, much warmer. He fights the urge to picture your silhouette amongst the waves. It’s not guaranteed. He might find himself in this dreaded cycle all over again. Then his coconut scented fantasy would be tarnished.

No, it’s better to cherish the present with you. Like right now, watching coconut scented water droplets descended down your legs and shoulders. Even though he knows he won’t be here long. Truly, he’d wish you weren’t awake, knowing he’d have to leave soon.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” You teased, abandoning your towel as you pulled the dresser open.

He’s easy to rile up, and you know exactly what you’re doing–bending over slowly to pull your panties above your hips. You can’t help it when he stares like it’s his first time seeing you, every time.

“Please don’t tempt me.”

Tony’s voice is low, barely above a whisper. He’s unmoving on the edge of the bed, hands braced beside his thighs as his eyes follow the movements of your hands around lacy black fabric. Truly he’s perplexed. Who knew watching someone get dressed would be just as much of a turn-on. Or maybe it’s just you.

You toss one of his faded band tees on, and he thinks this might actually be better than any sun-soaked dream (it’s definitely just you).

You cross the bedroom, the loose cotton brushing against your skin with each step. As you approach, you snake your arms around Tony's neck and straddle his lap. His large hands ghost up the smooth skin of your thighs, leaving a trail of warmth as they make their way to your back. The moment your skin touches his, Tony’s eyes lock onto yours, but you can tell his focus is elsewhere.

“What are you thinking about?” you ask softly, raking your hands through brown coils.

You assume his mind is still on the conversation downstairs, but the grin spreading on his face says otherwise. His lips move to pepper your exposed neck with kisses, still smiling.

“Really wanna know?”

“Sure, hit me.”

The ghosts across your veins turn into full blown grazes.

“You, in a bikini, drinking margaritas somewhere with no extradition laws.”

You chuckle at the notion and swat his shoulder when his teeth find your pulse point.

“Hey, you asked,” he laughs into your skin, gripping your hips tighter, “besides it’s your fault–’smell like I’m damn near there already.”

Tony’s mouth turns hungrier and hungrier, moving feverishly across every exposed inch until the flesh is tender and you're panting in his lap. It’s just encouragement, so he doesn’t pause for a moment as his fingers slip behind your lace. They work at the wetness already ruining the fabric, dragging it across your length and making your shiver.

Okay, sure, maybe another period of minimal alone time was getting to you, maybe. Sue me, you thought. Honestly, Tony should be more grateful to have such a willing partner–and you told him as much. Unfortunately, this elicited a need for Tony to instill a sense of gratitude in you.

In the next second, you're tossed onto your back, wrists pinned tightly above your head. His other hand pulls your panties down your legs and you try not to make a joke about the futility in getting dressed. Instead, you soak his weight against you, the roaming hand between your thighs and teeth on your neck.

Marking you is the obvious goal-sucking harder with each breathy whimper. He wasn’t kidding earlier, either. You smelled good enough to devour and he intended on doing so. His danced along your folds, a cufflink scratching the supple skin at the top of your thigh. They are never anywhere long enough to give you any real pleasure. Just to take more breath from your lungs and feeling from your legs.

You squirm against vicuna dress pants, trying to gain more friction on his hand. Instead of catering to your needs, he stops all together and the noise you make is almost pathetic. Who are you kidding, it’s fully pathetic–it couldn’t have been over two weeks, and pleas can hardly form on your tongue for more.

Tony reels back with a smirk that flips your stomach. A scheme is brewing behind darkened pupils. His eyes stay on you as his hand returns to your center, slow and heavy over your clit.

He doesn’t relent when your wrists strain and hips buck against him. No, a tighter grip and knee over your hip hold you steady enough for his fingers to work faster. You want to chastise yourself for how much you missed this–then two fingers slide into you and there isn’t room to think of much else.

He moves quickly and silent, like a serpent, finding that perfect rhythm that makes your eyes flutter. Your soft moans fill the quiet space. He’s too steady, not changing a muscle as your peak comes closer. The most desperate you get, writing against his palm to get even one extra inch of depth, the slower he moves.

“Did you have fun sneaking around?”

Your eyes flutter open in the dim bedroom, Tony’s sly grin shining above you. It cuts straight through the fog of pleasure taking you over.

“I don’t know what you’re–” you start to bluff.

“You’re not very sneaky, you know? Or a good liar. That’s a particular skill set that you, my dear, sorely lack.” Slow and teasing, he slides two fingers back into you.

“Okay, okay. Maybe I was eavesdropping a little.” He finally moves with purpose again, but of course not enough.

“A little? Let’s not start underrepresenting things, hm?”

Before you can debate him further, he withdraws and you think you might honestly cry if this continues.

“Okay, point taken, would you please stop torturing me now?”

“Now, why would I reward bad behavior?” he asked, lowering his gaze.

“If it helps, I wasn’t trying to.”

“It doesn’t.”

His palms grip your hips, flipping you onto your stomach and lifting your waist upwards. The sudden movement leaves you breathless, searching for balance on your forearms until they’re pulled behind your back.

“You know exactly which nerve to press, don’t you?” he breathes into the base of your neck, chest flush to your back as he hands work at his zipper.

How ironic, considering he spends the next hour tuning your body like an instrument. Knowing exactly where to press, where to ease off, until you finally unlock, bare and moaning into the mattress.

Afterwards, you fall asleep to the steady beat of his heart.

You’re half way to sleep when Tony slinks out of your arms. At first, you don’t bother stirring. Then, the soft draw of the dresser catches your ear.

You flip over onto your stomach to get a better view. You watch Tony’s shadowy figure attempt to quietly dress. For a rare sight, he abandons the tailored suit for dark Levis and a t-shirt. It hardly looks like him, in the best way possible (ignoring the obvious question of where the hell he planned on going in that. Less larger-than-life, more real. This, now this was someone you can imagine running into at the grocery store. The sharp edges of his suits always added a degree of gravitas to everything.

“Where are you off to?”

“Going to see a man about a horse.”

He leans down for a bright smile and a quick kiss before he leaves, and you let sleep suppress any thoughts about what that could possibly mean.

You awake to a sun that has long outran the horizon. The sheer curtains were already pulled back, with the smell telling you Jarvis made a feast for breakfast. Tony’s side is empty. Which is no surprise there, but you don’t expect him at the kitchen table.

He grins behind a newspaper as you approach. Jarvis is busy with the espresso machine, muttering curses under his breath.

“Tell me, what are your thoughts on cyclamen–oo, or actually, narcissus, yeah, that’s better.” Tony asks like you've been having some sort of conversation before five seconds ago.

Jarvis clicks the tamper in with a satisfied click as you stare back confused. You’re two blinks away from falling back asleep and desperately craving something stronger than green tea.

“What are you-Is-Are those restaurants?”

“Oh, morning ma’am. Shall I prepare you a tea, perhaps breakfast?” Jarvis turns at the sound of your voice, wiping damp grounds from his hands.

“Good morning, but no, just some coffee, please.” You try to sound natural. It’s weird giving someone else orders.

“Nope, flowers. We could do something simple like a peony but I don’t think that matches the whole vibe with the satin garlands.” Tony continues.

“Tony, hon, I have no idea what you’re on about right now.” you groggily slouch in the chair beside him.

“We, my dear,” the newspaper is folded and plopped onto the table for dramatic effect, “are having a Christmas party. The proverbial ‘we’ in this situation being the company, of course.”

“A Christmas party?” you muse with a laugh.

“For tax purposes, a gala. For my purposes, and therefore to make it fun, it is indeed a party, yes.”

Espresso warms your veins as you listen to Tony ramble through plans for catering, guests, decanters and a whole bunch of other shit you can hardly keep up with. Good thing that responsibility falls to Jarvis, who jots away on a worn notepad. Once your eyes fully open, the thought starts to excite you. Your yearly festivities normally boiled down to a bottle of chardonnay and some loosely Christmas film like Die Hard. “Plus, if I auction some art, it works out even more.” He punctuates his brilliant plan with a bite of a muffin.

“That’s not like a massive trigger for you?”

High-volume social events dropped off the radar recently, for good reason, you assumed (not that you minded a break from fake smiles and cold handshakes) . Instead, Tony dragged you along to more intimate dinners with whatever broker or councilwoman he needed to charm. Your role as plus-one never went anywhere, but doing so at Tony’s your home would give you more confidence.

“What are you, my sponsor?” he teases but you're less amused at the thought.

“You don’t even have a sponsor.” You know so, because Tony believes Narcotics Anonymous is a, quote, ‘sad-ass glorified tea party’.

“I have Jarvis.” He’s completely serious, and Jarvis hides his laughter behind a stack of plates.

You don’t want to point out the obvious cognitive dissonance. That a man who spends his nights in petrified somnolence might crack under the pressure of dozens of inebriated colleagues. Not now, in a moment of peace. Not in front of Jarvis. You’re not sure how much sound slips out into the hall.

Tony watches the worry creep over your face from the edge of his newspaper. With a sigh, he abandons it again.

“Look, all you have to do is look pretty–which is no sweat for you, maybe drink a few apple cider cocktails, and relax. I’ve got everything else perfectly handled.”

He gives you a look, both reassuring and decisive. It’s a simple message meant to be taken without debate, ‘trust me’.

You get one more peaceful morning drinking tea in the dark with Harley before the holiday season.

The event overtakes your life from Thanksgiving onward. You really don’t know how this sudden festive fervor spawns, but it slowly creeps into everything. From the elevator music, to miniature elves by the door, to candy canes everywhere, and more Christmas ties than days in December (you can’t be sure he’s not switching them multiple times a day).

You weren’t a total Grinch, not by a long shot. Tony just so happened to be creeping into that weird overly festive zone reserved for suburban moms and kindergarten teachers.

“Tony, what’s all of this?”

Vivaldi plays faintly on the record player. There’s a delicately placed mistletoe just off of the elevator, accompanied with a haphazard trail of roses leading out onto the balcony. You navigate through a candlelight kitchen juggling a heavy box of resin.

“Tony?” you call out again once the box makes contact with the counter,

“Out here!”

You follow the voice and rose trail to the balcony. Unsurprisingly, he’s donning a god awful Christmas sweater, grinning and pointing to the wool like it’s runway fashion. A small table holds two covered silver platters, and a tall bottle of champagne rests in a bucket of ice. It’s the kind of overtly romantic display you’d gotten since night one, but it never fails to sink your breath straight in your heart. Something about the way he’s standing there, beaming like a nervous, lovestruck fool, tells you this isn’t just a normal gesture of affection.

Still, your lips part to thank him, but he stops you instantly.

“Just wait–” he pleads, “I got like thirty minutes of practice into saying this and I can’t fuck it up.”

His voice is rushed enough that you believe. Clearly the words were threatening to jump out of him. It sets you a bit on edge, trying to anticipate what this was about. You indulge him anyway and nod.

Tony crosses the balcony to take your hands in his, thumb brushing over your knuckles.

“Okay, I know things haven’t been copacetic around here. And I know I’ve asked for a lot–more than I ever thought I would–and you know sometimes it feels like I’ll never be able to return what you’ve given to me, but I swear I’m going to make this worth it.”

He squeezes your palm, tired brown eyes searching yours for something, any sign that his words meant a single thing. It’s a fast-winded speech that makes you wanna laugh at the irony. Tony, the man who’d move the stars if they had a price tag, somehow feeling the need to repay you. Yet his voice is raw like a frayed nerve. Exposed to the cold winds whipping against the tower glass.

“Tony, you’ve made it more than worth it, everyday.” You smile, though it’s worth wondering what’s driving him to say all this. The words ring true regardless.

“Not nearly enough,” he says softly, “but I’m going to–I’m going to give you the world.”

In that moment, you see it: the weight of everything he’s been carrying. Your ribs seem to tighten inside your chest. That unspoken fear you’ve both been trying to avoid–it was far easier twenty seconds ago when you thought it was yours alone. You realize now that the fearless man you saw in fact was scared of something (losing you, primarily). Yeah, you comforted him through nightmares, but even then he managed to carry an aura of control.

This wasn't about holding onto the life you’ve built together, the one that’s felt so fragile lately. And for the first time, you see how much that matters to him, too.

He starts to say something else, dropping your hands. His fingers fiddle behind his back, seemingly nestled in his back pocket. He stares like he intended to say something else, lips parting and closing right back. In the next second, he seems to shift gears, pulling you into a hug.

You welcome the warm embrace, as the chill has started to gnaw at your bones. He plants a kiss to the top of your head, and you want to stay in that feeling for the rest of your life.

Sadly, he does eventually pull away to admit dinner on the balcony would be quite miserable, and the two of you move inside.

You could spend the rest of the evening overthinking about what all that meant, but you don’t bother. Why go through that mental labor, when instead you could drink $500 champagne, carefree while your handsome boyfriend flirts with you like it’s the first date.

You don’t think about it then, or later in the night when your legs are pressed to your chest and you can’t recall a single thing he said. You focus on what he’s saying then–filthy words about who you belong to, and exactly where you belong–a whimpering mess underneath him.

Even when it turns possessive (more so than usual), when your throat is littered with marks and his hand stands to leave another on his hip, you don’t think of it. But it’s the only thing on Tony’s mind. When another orgasm rips through you, all he can think about is how much he needs you. He whispers ‘you’re mine’ over and over and over as you fall apart just so your broken moans can still echo–so he can hear just how true it is. How could you, with such a dutiful guide at the helm?

Afterwards, when you’re drained of every ounce of life, it still doesn't bother you. You don’t wonder if tonight might be another night he slips into plain clothes and disappears until sunrise. You can’t muster a single thought as his arm slinks around your waist to pull you closer.

You simply close your eyes, and let sleep take you.

Eventually the days tick by to the gala, and you’re somewhere between impressed and overstimulated with all the ensuing holiday glamor.

Though, you can’t say he doesn’t go all out.

The first floor of Stark Industries is transformed from a cold minimalist space to Ebenezer Scrooge's worst nightmare. A makeshift stage sits at one end, complete with enough tinsel to suffocate a horse and twinkling garlands. Piles of fake snow anoint the corners, and a particularly large one sits beneath a 12-foot tall Christmas tree in the middle of the lobby. The open bar even serves drinks in frosted holiday glasses. He even has the guards wearing reindeer ears.

By ten p.m. the vast floor seems smaller than a shoebox, packed with guests in evening gowns and tailored tuxedos. Initially, you’d planned on wearing a new piece for the gala–something to make the overwhelming festivity Tony demanded. Once it came time to get dressed, your eyes caught the sanguine dress. You hadn’t gotten the chance to wear it since your first date. It had felt too exquisite for any other occasion, but for some reason you were drawn to wear it tonight.

You wish you could say Tony had a good reaction–or a reaction at all. From sunrise until the doors opened, he’s caught up in planning and preparations. Matter of fact, you were two hours into the gala and had only seen glimpses of him shaking hands in the crowd. It takes away from the expected familiarity. You imagined this night to be simple, easy for you to blend it with Tony on your arm, in his home your home. Instead, you wander like a lost gazelle, feeling every pair of eyes on you. You want to blame the dress. Revealing and bright red.

In the blurry swarm of faces, bright auburn stands out. Natasha wouldn’t be your first pick, but she’s the only familiar face and you need a respite.

You squeeze in next to her at one of the corner tables. The spice of her perfume permeates your nose but you can look past it for the moment. She pays you no mind at first, legs crossed and head turned to the crowd. You don’t mind one bit. It’s quieter towards the back, and you have no issue with it staying that way.

Natasha sighs deeply, almost in boredom, maybe annoyance, but not with you.

“I don’t know how you stand him.”

“How do you figure?” you respond absently, picking apart at a stray piece of tinsel.

“One of the richest men on Earth-I know he’s got the ego to match it.”

“You’d know better than I would, wouldn’t you?” you answer. You’d gotten the sense Natasha and Tony back way further than him and Pepper a while ago,

“Touche, but I’m not dating him.” she shifts to take another sip from her glass, “though, I’m not really sure why you are.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, do you really love him, or are you just after a family fortune?” Emerald eyes points like knives, her tone blending from casualty to scorn.

“W-what,” you stammer, “Of course I love him–Tony pursued me.”

“Please, he’d pursue anything with a pulse,” Natasha chuckles, “and relax, I’m just finally getting around to doing my due diligence.”

“Your ‘due diligence’ is being a cunt?”

“Ooh! I see you’re a feisty one–you did sit here after all, you know.” she muses.

“Just needed a break from the crowd,” you mummer, rising.

“Stay then–relax, like I said.” she gestures towards your now-empty seat. When you sigh and retake your place, she smiles. “I like you, you know.”

“We’ve barely spoken.” you declare, a dry chuckle spewing alongside.

“That doesn’t mean I don’t know a smart person when I see one.”

“Smart?”

“Smart decisions, going out with Tony, not screwing that up, though I’ve been told you’ve come close a few times.”

“Who–”

“This isn’t an interrogation, like I said, I like you–I don’t really care what happens between you two.”

“Then what is this?” you flag the nerdy tuxedoed waiter for a glass of water.

“You said it yourself, we’ve barely spoken. My job is to keep Tony’s business running smoothly, and that’s become a lot harder since he won’t make a single decision without considering the ‘y/n’ of it all.”

You scoff, unimpressed. “We don’t talk about his business.”

“Oh, I know,” Natasha remarks, “A bartender has no idea how to run a billion dollar corporation, and even less of an idea how to advise one.”

“This is the part where you tell me I have no business being with him, right?” The waiter drops off a tall pitcher of water for you both. Once your glass is full, he passes along a message that Tony’s speech starts soon.

“Dear god no,” Natasha laughs, “I imagine you’ve heard that enough–and he’s much more pleasant since you came around. Besides, you’re living the dream.”

“Is that so?” You have to give a laugh of your own (considering you had a bit of jealousy buried for her).

“Oh yes, filthy rich, live in a penthouse, never work another day in your life, loving husband–maybe not my dream, but still a dream.”

You don’t know if she’s trying to be funny but your next laugh is genuine, and she joins in.

“What is your dream, then?” you question.

Natasha’s grin stiffens, surprised. Contemplation passes for a second and you worry that you’ve underdone the last three minutes of camaraderie.

“Ballet teacher–but that stays at this table.” She gives you a matching pointed look.

“My lips are sealed.” You do try not to giggle, but it’s odd to imagine her frigidity in a warm lit studio surrounded by tutus.

“Did you mean it, what you said about Tony? That things are...okay?” Natasha asks, referring to Tony’s sobriety. It’s weird how everyone dances around it, especially someone so usually straightforward as her.

It was weeks ago when you parroted that claim. And you only call it that because the question annoys the fuck out of you. It’s entirely subjective, and you give in to the optimistic look in their eye and tell them what they want to hear. He’s fine, better even.

Maybe it’s because she’s being nice, or because you already gave up this facade with Harley, but you can’t be bothered to pretend you know what’s going on with him all the time. Besides, clearly you weren’t doing a good enough job for her to ask you about it again

“I want to say yes, but I don’t know, I guess?” you admit, staring into the crowd.

Natasha’s mouth parts to speak again, only to have the microphone’s feedback interrupt her. The host–some Nobel prize winning chemist Tony invited to pull donors–clears his throat before starting his introduction, and the noise draws to a lull. Natasha excuses herself, presumably to find Tony before his speech. You decide to stay at the back of the lobby, with a good enough view of the stage.

Supposedly this entire sordidly festive affair had a true business purpose, some big announcement Tony was making on the ‘future of the company’. He didn’t explain much more than that, and you’re certain the technical logistics were beyond you anyway.

After a long, boring welcome, the mic is passed off to Tony. It’s the first time today you’ve been able to see him fully–draped in a jet black tuxedo and bright red bowtie.

It whines again in his grip, and Tony pauses once the cheers die down, glancing at the expectant faces below. Thick cards press into his palm, each written meticulously inked by Natasha last night He clears his throat, glancing out past the lights into the crowd. He hopes they can’t see how heavy the stillness starts to weigh on him like before. The sudden quiet, all that attention. Including yours, somewhere out there. His heart stalls at how must look to you up here. Larger than life probably, or maybe you weren’t looking at all (he hopes you aren’t). A hundred odd pairs of eyeballs, and he hides from yours.

Tony knew what he had to do, and was quite confident in his choice. But he can’t risk looking you in the eye while he does it. Ironically, his decision had very little to do with you, and everything to do with Pepper. The edge of his mouth still twitches.

“Tonight…” he starts, turning the twitch into a warm smile, “…I’ve asked you all to be here in celebration, to celebrate Stark Industries, and talk about the future of the company,” He clears his throat, rolling his shoulders as if trying to loosen some unseen knot.

There’s a small, brief ripple of confusion among the front of the room, murmurs. Something shifts in his expression—just a flash—before his eyes catch something and harden. A gesture is made to the guard at the end of the stage. His hand tightens around the mic.

“To keep things transparent,” he says, stuffing the cards into his pocket, “the real reason I threw this party, asked you all to be here, is because I want everyone to see how much this means to be.”

Your ears perk up. Natasha swears under her breath, glancing at you before sharply leaving the table, tapping away at her phone. Tony can’t hide from your gaze anymore, and he finds your confused face in the back corner. Before you think about a path to escape, the crowd follows his attention, taking their eyes from the billionaire to the nobody fiddling with tinsel alone.

“I want to celebrate the love I have for this woman, and take this opportunity to share it with everyone.”

What the hell is he doing?, you think. He can't be doing this here, like this.

“The truth is,” he pauses, feeling his phone buzz off the hook (most certainly Natasha telling him to stop), “I’m getting married, and Stark Industries will be welcoming a new partner in its operations.”

The room erupts in a chorus of oos and awes, all to the tune of your racing heart. It takes you a second to process. He means getting married to you. You never even talked about marriage, the future, anything like that. Yeah, maybe in passing the idea came up, but at no point did you accept a marriage proposal.

Everything feels nauseatingly blurry after. Random individuals come over with their congratulations, while half the crowd stares and the other half still bothers to listen to the rest of Tony’s speech. It’s a bunch of nonsense about restructuring and profits, and you’re too confused, pissed, and too fed up with fake smiles to bother standing around to listen.

You suffer through two more superficial conversations about the marriage you were only made privy a few minutes ago. Finally, you escape to the restroom. You find an empty stall to hide in, trying to process what was going through Tony’s mind.

He couldn’t be serious, could he? This wasn’t real–it was some ploy or tactic. He didn’t genuinely intend to marry you. You didn’t like to think of the long-term for the same reasons you didn’t think about the short-term. This was unpredictable, you learned that. You learned to be okay with that. You could soak in the pleasures indefinitely without ever worrying about how it might all end. This, this brought it into a sharp focus you weren’t ready for.

You’re not even certain he’s fully divorced yet.

Once your palms finally dry, and the threat of a panic attack fades, you step out of the restroom. You don’t even know what to think, and the sterile walls weren’t helping. Glancing back toward the gala, you spot Tony scanning the room—until his eyes find yours. You don't hold his gaze long; instead, you turn sharply toward the elevator. You hear your name faintly called from somewhere behind, but you keep moving down the hall, ignoring it.

He breaks into an awkward jog to catch you. You keep your eyes forward.

“[Y/N], look I know this wasn’t what you were expecting, and I can explain I just need–” he starts,

“You’ve lost your fucking mind, Stark,” Natasha heels stomp angrily down the hall, stepping in front you to point her finger in Tony’s face, “what the hell are you doing?”

“Alright, alright, not you right now–cut it out!” He smacks her hand away flippantly, “I’m not entirely sure you and Matt haven’t been drinking the kool-aid either.”

Tony huffs and straightens his bowtie and you step back from Natasha’s heat. Behind the three of you, someone gets their hands on a karaoke machine and a terrible rendition of Santa Baby follows.

“The whole point of this bullshit was to go public and get out of this shit so explain to me how this gets us anywhere closer to that?” She grits.

Tony throws his hands in the air, “Maybe it doesn’t, but your dumbass plan wasn’t any better.”

“You think marrying her is going to help you? You know I was joking when I said that, right?”

Suddenly, a spotlight seems to beam over you. Neither party stops their death glare to fully acknowledge you. That wasn’t a proposal–you were just some pawn in their game.

You don’t even know what the hell they’re playing for.

“This is a great time to remind you who signs your checks.”

Only then do her eyes bother to glance at you.

“This isn’t gonna end well, and you know it.” She concedes, still stern. After that, she stomps back off into the crowd.

Tony turns towards you, but you're already back at the elevator, watching the buttons finally reach L.

“[Y/N], please–”

The doors ding open and you don’t stop to hear anymore. Despite your feverous attempt to close the doors, Tony makes his way inside. The door just barely misses his coattail, to your annoyance.

Even worse, and completely on par for the evening, the jingle bells elevator music plays the moment the doors shut.

A hard, awkward beat passes. You’re pinching the bridge of your nose, sparsely emptied of any more energy for this night (mentally or otherwise).

“You look fucking stellar, by the way, love that dress–”

“Tony.”

“Right, you’re right, sorry.”

Neither of you spare another word from the elevator to the bedroom. Tony follows behind, closing the door softly as you toss your earring onto the dresser. You’re waiting for him to speak again. Explain, deflect–hopefully just explain, but he doesn’t. He sits at the end of the bed, eyes trained to you in the mirror.

“Why didn’t you ask me? Alone? Before today?” you sigh, “

“I wanted to, I was going to, the other night on the balcony I just–” he answers quickly, but trails off in a way that has you turning to face him instantly.

You don’t doubt that for a second. Truthfully, the level of effort and random heartfeltness of the night gave you some clue. But, when it never came you just chalked it up to Tony being Tony. Painfully romantic in most conditions.

“You just what, didn’t want to?” There’s anger, though you know it's hypocritical.

“No I just,” he exhales, dragging his fingers through slicked back hair, “I knew you’d say yes.”

“You knew I’d say yes? What the hell does that mean?” Your necklace joins the rest of your jewelry with a loud clink.

“This is coming out all wrong–”

“You think?” The six inch heels are the next thing to go, throwing haphazardly in the closet. Tony rises to cut you off in front of the door, eyes pleading for understanding you’re not sure you have.

“I saw the look in your eye, I’d done so much to make sure you’d say yes in that moment because I needed you to–not because I wanted it and that wasn’t the way it was supposed to go.”

“You don’t know that I’d say yes.”

“You would,” he says with that practiced charm, all sunny but hollow. A trademark Stark move—confidence teetering on arrogance. When you hesitate, he’s ready with another word, a gaze intense enough to hypnotize. “You know you would.”

You laugh, looking away as if it’s absurd. “Are you really so sure?”

His hand slips into yours, gentle but firm, thumb brushing across your knuckles in a way that makes it seem like he’s talking to you, only you, and not the thousand voices in his head screaming at him to get this done.

“I know you’re scared, but” he says, leaning into your warmth. “Don’t leave me hanging here, please.”

“You sound so desperate, it’s kind of sad.”

But there’s a softness to your voice now, a hint that he might be getting through. For a moment he was worried he wouldn’t be able to get away with this again, that you’d learned all his tricks since the boutique.

It’s enough of a crack in your resolve for him to keep pushing. He slips closer, voice low.

“Look, I know I keep asking a lot of you, but, There’s a pause, just long enough to let the ache in his voice sit, before he adds, “this could fix everything, everything can be okay.”

There’s a sliver of doubt in your eyes, and that’s what he clings to.

“And when was the last time everything was okay, Tony?” You watch him in the bureau’s mirror.

“It could be. All I need for you to do is say yes, so I can fix this,” He squeezes your hand, the hint of desperation all but veiled now.

And when you finally exhale, when that flicker of sympathy slips in, he knows he’s won.

It’s good enough. Better than he hoped, honestly. The relief slides into him like a tonic, loosening the tight lines in his jaw. He keeps his hand on yours, knowing the warmth of it will serve to distract from the creeping dread, from the hollow pit that’s been widening ever since the stakes got so high he couldn't see the top of them.

For Tony, this is all still just a means to an end. One step closer to true liberty and the life he was supposed to have. If he had to lie and disappoint–cheat and charm, then he’d do it. It would be worth it. In the end, the sum of his achievements would outweigh his sins.

He reminded himself of that a month ago, the night before he decided to have the gala. When the bedroom door closes, a sigh of relief escapes. He was lucky that you didn’t catch the conversation with Matt and Natasha in full. What he had in the works was sensitive, and he couldn’t have that ruined by anyone knowing the details in advance. He couldn’t lose you again, not when he needed you most.

There is a shred of guilt as the elevator whirs down to the garage. You’re probably thinking the worst, understandably, but there wasn’t anything he could do about it. Only to pray his love was enough to placate you for now.

Especially when he doesn’t even want to fucking do this. Each day seems to come at the loss of his autonomy, another suit on his payroll telling him what’s best for his life. It’s more deplorable when the people closest to him come up with the shittiest ideas to fix this. He can truly thank Pepper for his recent migraines (and a bunch of old ones). Filing for divorce was quite a move to try to get what she wanted, and throw him to the mercy of the Securities and Exchange Commission at the same time. If you listen to Matt, Tony’s mere minutes away from a cold cell. If you listen to Nat, Tony’s plummeting stock will be the sealer of his fate. And as of right now, two of the smartest people he knows can’t come up with anything that doesn’t come at the cost of you or his company. And he can’t live with either.

Since, both their solutions arguably suck, he tells a lie or lack thereof to find a third opinion. Or a hail mary. However it’s called, it’s a long shot that he can’t be certain won't jeopardize him even more.

The drive to Hudson Valley is peaceful, to the point he forgets his world is on fire. It’s late, or early, depending on who you ask. Few cars grace the road and he finds solace in the solitude. The radio is ignored for the repetitive rumble of the tires, until paved tar turns into rough gravel.

When Pepper sent over the address, he wasn’t too surprised. She always rambled about moving out of the city, dreaming of cabins in the woods and sprawling hills. Tony could never wrap his head around living anywhere else. In retrospect, that was another early omen. They never even shared the same dream.

He can’t say it doesn’t look impressive. A dark a-frame that strikes beautifully against the earthen spruce. Maybe that is why she had him drive all the way out here and not somewhere in the city. Part of masterplan to show him what she presumes he’s missing out on.

The porch lights flicker on once he parks, and he makes his way up the stone path to find Pepper sitting just outside the door. She’s preoccupied with a thick novel, acknowledging Tony with the raise of a finger.

It’s strange, being alone with her for the first time in years. She’s not dressed in Valentino but tattered college sweats he had forgotten about. Seeing her at the penthouse all those months ago was troubling, but this was different. Here, it’s too quiet. Even though he’s a few paces away from the table, he can hear the tension of her nails against the pages–the swirl of wind through her hair. Sure, she can’t control the environment but he knows this is a calculated move too. To make him wait, make him uncomfortable. Every other sense sharpens in the absence of constant noise. Norway spruce and duplicity.

He’s losing his nerve and he needs this over.

“Why the hell’d you make me drive this far out anyway?” He tries to keep a level voice, knowing she wouldn’t hesitate to use his irritation against him.

“It’s the one place I’m certain your little spy hasn’t found yet.” she murmurs.

Okay, fine, so he’d used his son to spy on his ex-wife. Big deal, he couldn’t be certain she wasn’t doing the same. Plus, Harley had offered to keep an eye on her. It was a matter of security, not personal (mostly).

“Can we get on with this?”

“I suppose,” she sighs, tossing the book onto the table. The thud reverberates, stark against the stillness of the valley. “But I’m not sure what it is you want from me–you did call me after all.”

“I did.” And he’s regretting it every second.

“So, what can I do for you?”

“You can start by accepting the deal Murdock sent, and let this be over.”

Pepper chuckled, crossing her legs. “What are you playing at, Tony?”

“I’m not playing at anything–this needs to be over, you need to move on.”

“Oh please, don’t flatter yourself,” she scoffs, “this is all very rich considering you’ve held me in litigation for months, you rejected my offers over and over, so why the sudden change of heart?”

A cold chill and burning annoyance pull him closer to the table.

“Yes, because I should just give you forty-five percent of my company–I can get it gift-wrapped too if that makes it all the better.”

“That’s right, your ego won’t let you admit I’m the only reason you have a company to speak of.”

“Can’t you find an ounce of compassion in that gaping pit you call a soul, for me?”

“Such harsh words from someone who needs something from me.” Pepper smirks and stands once the heat recedes from Tony’s face.

“Take the twenty percent, finalize the papers, and end this, or else there won’t be anything for either of us.”

She circles the table to stop in his view. Tony wishes he had a time machine.

“Let me guess, someone’s under a little heat.” she muses, voice high and dripping in sugary venom.

“Little is an understatement.” He steps back, hands tight in her pockets.

“And why would I give up my shares to help you?”

“This entire thing started with you, and the second it wasn’t convenient you ran. The least you could fucking do is help me out of it.” Tony snapped.

“Right, and if I don’t?”

She still laughs, because it’s all a good game to her. Entertaining to see him against the ropes–desperate enough to reach out to her. For once though, it’s calming. It soothes his anger and reminds him why he agreed to this at all. This time, he had an ace up his sleeve.

“Then I’ll tell just that to whoever needs to know–you know I have the evidence. You’ll go down right alongside me.”

In the quiet solace, for a moment, she’s outplayed. Her smile falters and brows crinkle. Truthfully, as much as he’d love to, he could never sell her out. But she had a terrible tendency of assuming the worst of him, and he was banking on that.

“Please do, I’m sure they’d love to hear what I know about Obadiah.”

Oh, so that was her ace.

A soft buzz vibrates his back pocket. He doesn’t need omniscience to know it’s you. He can picture it clearly–you, traipsing around the penthouse looking for signs of life. He knows you hate that feeling, and he hates to cause it.

There’s a more pressing issue; not giving Pepper the emotional reaction she wants.

“You wouldn’t do that.” Spare words from some forgotten bin.

“Not if you don’t force my hand.”

A painful pause ensues. The valley’s fauna recognize the tension, silencing out of respect for the sound of Tony’s plan shattering. A true stalemate. Not what he came for, but his throat swells thinking about the aftermath from a war of attrition.

He can’t let that get out, above all else. That’d be his dissolution. Stark Industries, everything he worked for would vanish. You, without question. You never see him the same again. The crafted image he sought, the life he was creating with you for you, it’d be wasted effort.

“What’s it gonna take for you to help me?”

After another migraine-causing conversation, Tony slumps into the driver seat, shoulders heavy and eyelids even heavier. Fifteen minutes have passed since your text, and he wonders if it's better not to answer at all.

[ everything okay? ]

[ be home soon ]

Ignore. Deflect. Move on.

The drive back to the city is less pleasant. Actually, it’s a nightmare that he disassociated through the moment he entered the garage. He was, tragically, fucked. There was no telling if he had the capital to replace whatever Pepper took, and he certainly couldn’t risk everything by going public. And if he didn't give Pepper what she wanted, he might be looking at a depressing future behind bars. And that was not an option.

So he’s at the mercy of the ginger Judas who put him on the path in the first place. Go figure. There’s self-blame for entertaining this option at all. For not guessing she’d snake her way into the upperhand like always. This wasn’t a beast he could defeat with regular tactician and planning. No, he needed to surprise her–usurp her. Piss her off the way she pissed him off. Go against the grain and act in a way that she couldn't predict. Something she couldn’t maneuver around.

So, when the mic graced his hands, and the coached words on his marriage, the marriage he never asked you about. The marriage he couldn’t ask you about because he wasn’t ready either.

He said fuck it, and did it anyway.

He knew you would’ve said yes then, so you obviously would answer the same afterwards. Even if you were predictably, and understandably pissed, you loved him, and he intended to use that. Grand gestures were his thing after all. A huge public soiree was more on brand than some private dinner. And, he was Tony Stark. The man who got everything he wanted. Why would your hand be any different? Certainly it fell under the same bracket (and really, an argument could be made that he had your loyalty regardless–this was just a title).

It was justified in his mind the moment the words hit the mic. It just sounds right– Y/N Stark. Like he should have made it that way a long time ago. For a second, the ceaseless pit of vengeance is taken over by something more.

It;s even easier to justify when he gets a wave of childlike excitement over it. Imagining the ring on your finger, the life he could have with you. Palm trees and salt waves on a remote coast. No more Stark Industries, no more nightmares about cold federal prisons, just you and him.

Then, in the crowd, he spots what must be Pepper’s lookout. A short, brayish man stays still while dozen roar in congratulatory apologize. Pepper should’ve coached him better, a clear sore loser in a room full of winners.

The real reason he’s doing this comes back. Tony makes a quick signal to the guard behind him, and moments later the man is escorted upstairs. He used to hate doing this. But he soon learned that humanity gets you nowhere in this business. Still, he almost tells his team to go easy. Then he remembers the cold look on Pepper’s face at the valley while he plead for mercy like a sad dog.

Fuck that. The man knew the risks. It’s not Tony’s fault they didn’t play in his favor.

Out of whatever kindness was left, he makes a note to have his body dumped somewhere nice.

PART SIX SOON

#tony stark #tony stark x reader #seikkoiwrites #mcu fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #tony stark fanfiction #tony stark smut #avengers fanfiction #tony stark x f!reader

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sherewrytes · 15 days ago

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𝔹𝕣𝕠𝕜𝕖𝕟 ℙ𝕚𝕖𝕔𝕖𝕤, ℝ𝕪𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕟 𝕊𝕦𝕜𝕦𝕟𝕒 3

↳ Sukuna x f! black reader

Summary: After the death of his grandfather, Sukuna Ryomen is left to shoulder the weight of his family, caring for his younger brothers, Yuuji and Choso. As he withdraws into grief, his relationship with Y/N, his girlfriend of a year, begins to crumble. When Y/N discovers the truth about his grandfather’s passing during a heated argument, it leads to a painful breakup. Now, both are navigating life apart, but Sukuna’s heart aches for Y/N. Determined to win her back, he must confront his pain and find a way to break through the walls he’s built. Can he rekindle their love, or is it too late?

contents: heavy angst, modern au, 18+, smut, dark romance, drug use, talks of depression and similar topics. (a lil )

fic warnings. ooc, profanity, mental health issues, toxic relationships, cheating, explicit smut, serious drug use, mentions of depression + more to be updated as story progresses.

Please read with proper discretion. this is a work of fiction. all characters are written to portray roles that are necessary to the plot and are in no way a reflection of their canon counterparts.

Taglist: @for-hearthand-home @clp-84 @thelightknight21 @favvkiki

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Fic Playlist

Song for this chapter: Happy Little Pill Troye Sivan

You can listen to the songs mentioned to the fic in order if you desire

Chapter Playlist

Masterlist

Chapter 3: Happy Little Pill

I finally made it home, my head still spinning from the earlier with yn…

Or is it the pills…or the weed…fuck weed brain is shit sometimes

I yank the boxes out of the back seat before heading up to my apartment. When I step inside, the smell of pizza and the low hum of video game music hits me—Yuuji’s still awake, sitting with Choso and Toji, all of them glued to the screen, battling it out on Sparkling Zero, the latest Dragon Ball Z game. Toji just mutters, "Hey, you’re back," barely glancing away from the game.

I drop the boxes by the door with a loud thud, and that’s when everyone turns around, their eyes flicking from the boxes to me, waiting, maybe expecting something. The room falls into an uncomfortable silence, thick enough to choke on. Yuuji tosses the controller to Toji, then mumbles something about heading to bed.

But I’m already on edge, the tension buzzing under my skin like electricity. "It’s fine," I snap, waving a hand dismissively. "You don’t fucking listen anyway, so do whatever you want."

Choso stands up, his expression turning cold. “Don’t take your shit out on him,” he says, his voice steady but sharp enough to cut through the room.

I run a hand through my hair, feeling the heat of frustration bubbling up inside me. "I’m not taking anything out on him," I snap, my voice sharper than I intended. "Just tired of dealing with everyone's bullshit."

Toji rolls his eyes, casually leaning back on the couch, his gaze unfazed. "You’re the one who decided to get into it with Y/N, man. You think it’s easy for any of us to watch you self-destruct?"

I glare at him, anger flaring. "You don’t know shit, Toji. You think you understand what I’m going through?"

Choso shakes his head, shooting me a warning look. "Stop. Just stop. You’re being an asshole for no reason. You don’t have to take your problems out on us."

I scoff, the tension in the room thickening. "Whatever. Just mind your own business." I storm toward the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge, desperately trying to cool down the fire inside me.

Toji follows, the sound of his footsteps echoing behind me. "Look, man, you’re not going to be able to keep pushing everyone away forever. Sooner or later, you’ll have to deal with this."

I slam the fridge door shut, turning to face him. "What do you want me to say? That she left me? That I can’t fix this?" The bitterness spills from my mouth, and I hate how raw my emotions feel.

Toji crosses his arms, his expression serious. "I just want you to stop acting like you’re fine when you’re clearly not. You think shutting everyone out is going to help? You need to talk to someone."

"And what? You think spilling my guts to you guys is going to solve anything?" I retort, clenching my fists. "You think I want pity?"

"It's not about pity, Sukuna!" Toji's voice raises slightly, frustration evident in his tone. "It’s about support. You need it, whether you want to admit it or not."

I open my mouth to fire back, but the weight of exhaustion settles over me like a heavy blanket. "I don’t want to talk," I finally say, my voice quieter. "I just want to be left alone."

"You’re not alone, man," Choso pipes in, his voice steady. "We’re here for you, whether you like it or not."

I feel the tightness in my chest ease ever so slightly at their words, but

I can’t let them in. Not now. Not after everything.

I shake my head, turning away from them, focusing on the dull ache of my thoughts instead.

"Fine," I mutter, dragging my boxes back toward my room. "Just keep playing your game or whatever."

I hear Choso mutter something under his breath, but I don’t bother to listen. I slam my bedroom door shut behind me, the sound echoing in the small space.

As I drop the boxes on the floor, I feel the familiar sting of tears welling up in my eyes.

I don’t want to feel this way; I don’t want to feel anything at all.

I sink onto my bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to clear my mind.

You should’ve fought harder,

I think bitterly.

You should’ve fought for her.

But I didn’t. I let my anger and my fear push her away, and now I’m left with nothing but regret and the suffocating silence of my empty apartment.

I sit alone in my room, and for once, I let the tears fall. I don’t even try to stop them.

(I really fucking lost her…)

The thought hits like a punch to the gut.

(Fuck…)

Anger flares up, raw and bitter, and I lash out,coming off the bed, I kick one of the boxes on the floor. I hear something shatter inside. My jaw clenches, but my hands shake as I grab the box cutter from my dresser and slice open the top.

Inside are picture frames, one after another, all of them hers—the memories she kept. The photos glare back at me like a silent accusation. Shots of us laughing together, looking like nothing else mattered. Pictures of me, her, and Grandpa, his arm slung around us both like he was holding everything together. Photos of us with Yuuji and Choso, a messy, mismatched family that once felt unbreakable.

My chest feels like it’s caving in, a hollow ache where there used to be something real. Each picture is a reminder, a slap to the face of everything I’ve fucked up, everything I’ve lost. And somehow, seeing them all here, in these broken frames… it just makes it hurt worse.

I can’t look at these. I shouldn’t have opened this box. The photos are mocking me, each one a reminder of what I had and lost. I feel the heat of tears streaming down my face as I sift through the frames, memories flooding back in vivid detail.

Look at how happy we were,

I think bitterly.

What a fucking joke.

I picked up a picture of us at the beach, laughing and splashing water at each other. Y/N’s smile is bright, her hair blowing in the wind, and I remember how carefree we felt that day. The sun had been shining, the waves crashing, and we’d promised to always have days like that.

And now look at us,

I think, rage mixing with sorrow in my chest. I toss the frame back into the box, and it clatters against the others. I can’t handle it.

I grab another one, this one of me, Y/N, and Grandpa at a family barbecue. Grandpa had his arm slung over my shoulder, and Y/N stood beside me, her hand on my back. We’d both been laughing at one of Grandpa's terrible jokes. That was before everything went to shit.

God, I miss him.

I slam the box shut, my heart racing with anger and pain. I run my hand over my face, trying to wipe away the tears, but it only makes it worse. I can’t breathe, the weight of my emotions crashing down on me. I want to scream, to throw something, to destroy everything in this room.

What have I done?

I pull my phone out, staring at the screen. I know I shouldn’t reach out to her, but the urge is overwhelming. I need her. I need to fix this, but I don’t even know how. I type out a message and then delete it.

No, don’t do that.

But the next moment, I find myself typing again, my fingers trembling.

Y/N, I’m sorry. Can we talk?

I hit send before I can think twice. The seconds stretch into eternity as I wait for a reply, my heart pounding in my chest. I want to pace, to throw my phone against the wall, to do anything but sit here and wait.

I’m still staring at the screen when i just see

Seen.

Just like that, my heart sinks again. She saw it and chose not to respond.

What the hell am I doing?

I toss the phone onto my bed, unable to look at it anymore. I want to forget. I want to drown myself in anything other than this ache. I lean back against the wall, trying to shut out the world.

But the memories don’t stop. They flooded in—her laughter, the way she looked at me, how her presence made everything feel right, even when it was wrong. I bury my face in my hands, letting the sobs wrack my body.

I really fucked this up..

I reach out without thinking, fingers brushing over the blunt I left on my nightstand earlier. It’s routine by now—something to take the edge off, to quiet everything that won’t shut up inside my head. I flick the lighter, watching the flame for a second before lighting up and taking a slow drag, feeling the burn in my lungs, hoping it'll numb something deeper.

(Alexa, play "Can You Feel My Heart" by Bring Me The Horizon.)

The music fills the silence, heavy and raw, matching the ache that I can’t shake. I let the lyrics drown me, let the weed fog my mind. It’s not enough, but it’s all I have right now—anything to dull the pain clawing its way through me.

The familiar sounds of Bring Me The Horizon fill the room, the heavy beats pulsing through my chest like a heartbeat. I take a deep drag from the blunt, the smoke swirling in the dim light as I close my eyes.

“Can you feel my heart?” The lyrics resonate with my inner turmoil, echoing the chaos that has taken over my mind. I let the smoke seep deep into my lungs, holding it for a moment before exhaling slowly, watching as the gray haze drifts away.

Inhale.

Exhale.

I lose myself in the music, letting it drown out the noise of my thoughts, the weight of my failures. I let the smoke fill my lungs and the melody fill my heart. Each note hits me like a wave, and for a brief moment, the pain feels a little lighter, the memories slightly dulled.

What the hell have I done?

I can’t shake the feeling of regret. I never wanted to push Y/N away, but it feels like I’ve done exactly that. I take another drag, the high creeping in, the world blurring around the edges.

It shouldn’t have come to this. I think of her face, the way her eyes glistened with tears, how it tore me apart inside to see her hurt.

“Can you save my bastard soul? Will you wait for me? I'm sorry, brothers, so sorry, lover”

I can’t help but think how fitting the lyrics are. The smoke wraps around me like a shroud, and I lean back against the wall in my room again, letting the music take over, hoping it will drown out the memories of Y/N’s hurt expression, the way she told me to leave.

As the chorus builds, I feel the weight of everything crashing down again, but I can't fight it anymore. I take another hit of the blunt, needing more, wanting to escape this reality even for a little while longer.

I don’t want to be broken anymore. I just want her back.

I let the sound wash over me, the pain turning into a low hum, my thoughts drifting into a haze. I lose track of time as the world around me fades, and all that’s left is the music and the smoke.

Just for tonight, I don’t want to think about anything else.

The lyrics echo in my mind, each line digging deeper into the pit in my stomach. I take another drag from the joint, the smoke swirling around me like my thoughts—chaotic and tangled.

“I hate being alone.” The words hit hard. I can feel the weight of the silence in my room, a stark contrast to the warmth of Y/N’s laughter, the softness of her touch.

Why did I mess up such a good thing?

I can’t stop replaying every moment, every fight, and every chance I had to fix things before they spiraled out of control.

“I long for that feeling to not feel at all.”

I sigh, frustration bubbling up as I wipe my eyes. I should’ve known better than to think sleeping with her would make everything okay.

It was reckless, and now I’m left with the consequences. I smack my forehead, as if punishing myself will somehow erase the pain.

“The higher I get, the lower I'll sink.”

I can feel the truth in that line. Every hit I take feels like a momentary escape, but I know it won’t last.

It’s a band-aid on a gaping wound, and soon enough, the high will wear off, leaving me with the raw, gnawing emptiness inside.

“I can't drown my demons, they know how to swim.”

My heart aches with that realization. The weight of my past mistakes, the loss of my grandfather, and now the chasm Y/N has left behind—those demons are relentless. They’re always there, lurking just beneath the surface, waiting for me to slip.

“What comes after the numb feeling inside?”

I wonder, my mind racing. Will I ever feel whole again? Or will this ache follow me, a constant reminder of what I’ve lost? What if I’m destined to feel this way for the rest of my life?

I take another deep drag, letting the smoke fill my lungs, hoping it will cloud my thoughts, if only for a moment longer. But deep down, I know the truth: this isn’t a solution. I can’t hide from my feelings, and I can’t run from the mess I’ve made.

“God, Y/N... what have I done?”

The whisper escapes my lips, thick with regret. I set the joint down and lean back against the wall, letting the tears fall as I stare up at the ceiling, wishing for anything to take this pain away.

The tears keep coming, harder and faster. My throat tightens, and I start to cough, choking on the mix of tears and smoke.

Fuck this shit.

I force myself up out of my room and head back to the living room. Toji, Choso, and Yuuji are still there, glued to the game, the sounds of explosions and cheers filling the room. And then I see Gojo and Geto have shown up too, looking comfortable like they belong here.

Gojo glances over, his eyes narrowing with that same look he always gives me, and holds out a beer. I stare at it, then at him. The whole scene feels off, like I’m watching from somewhere else, too hollowed out to take any of it in.

Without a word, I turn around and head back to my room, shutting the door behind me.

I can’t do this right now…

I could feel their eyes on me as I turned away, the laughter and chatter of the group fading into the background. It was like I was stuck in a bubble, cut off from the warmth and camaraderie that usually brought me solace. All I wanted was to escape the reality of my situation, to crawl into a hole and disappear for a while.

I pushed the door to my room shut, blocking out the noise. The moment the door clicked into place, the familiar weight of loneliness settled back in, heavier than before. I sank onto my bed, feeling the fabric dampen with the remnants of my tears. My mind was racing, a storm of guilt and despair swirling around, leaving no room for clarity.

“Fuck this shit,”

I thought, frustration clawing at my insides. I couldn’t keep running from everything. I needed to face it, to confront the mess I had made with Y/N, with my own damn life.

But how?

I felt trapped, like I was spiraling into a pit with no way out. I couldn’t even find the words to say what I felt, to explain how I’d let everything fall apart. I reached for my phone, hoping maybe texting Y/N again would help, but hesitated. What would I even say? I didn’t want to make things worse, to push her further away.

After a few moments of staring at the screen, I tossed the phone back onto the bed and buried my face in my hands. It was too much. I needed to think, to breathe, but the reality of my choices suffocated me.

I heard laughter from the living room, a sharp reminder of what I was missing out on. I thought about joining them again, about trying to act normal, but the idea felt like a façade. I was too far gone, too consumed by my own turmoil to pretend.

Instead, I lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling, the silence around me becoming deafening. I replayed the last few hours in my mind, trying to pinpoint where it all went wrong. The arguments, the unspoken words, the way Y/N looked at me with hurt and confusion.

I couldn’t escape the haunting thought that I might never fix this. That I might lose her for good.

“What am I supposed to do now?”

I whispered to the emptiness.

The music shifts to Breaking the Habit by Linkin Park, and I can’t help but let out a bitter laugh.

(Really?)

It’s like the universe is mocking me at this point.

I reached for my usual baggie on my night side grabbing a Xanax and popping one then grabbed the weed jar and some paper, rolling it up with shaky hands before lighting it. I inhale, hoping the smoke can fill the cracks that feel like they’re widening with every second. I get off the bed, shuffling over to another box I’d grabbed from Y/N’s place, sitting there like it’s holding all the shit I’m not ready to face.

The smoke curled around me as I took a deep drag from the blunt, trying to drown out the chaos in my head with every inhale, I opened another box, the familiar scent of her lingering, and there it was—the collection of gifts I’d once given her. Little tokens of affection that now felt like chains binding me to my regrets.

“For fuck's sake, Y/N,”

I muttered to the empty room, frustration spilling over.

The lyrics from the song hit me hard, each line resonating with the turmoil I felt inside. I could see it all clearly now—the moments where I’d let my anger and pride get in the way, where I hadn’t fought for her when it mattered most. “I’ll never fight again. And this is how it ends.” Those words echoed in my mind, a haunting reminder of how I’d allowed things to deteriorate.

I pulled out a small barely gift-wrapped box, the paper slightly crumpled and torn but still intact. I remembered the day I’d given it to her—her face lighting up with that genuine smile that had always made my heart skip.

This was supposed to mean something.

I thought bitterly, a part of me wishing I could go back and change everything.

The song shifted again, the chorus cutting through my haze:

“I don’t know how I got this way. I’ll never be alright.”

And it wasn’t. Nothing felt right anymore. I was stuck in this cycle of self-loathing and despair, unable to find a way out.

I flicked the ash off the blunt, my mind racing. The gifts, the memories—they were reminders of what I’d lost. Of the love I’d let slip through my fingers.

“What have I done?”

I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. The question hung in the air, unanswered, as I took another hit. I couldn’t stop thinking about Y/N, about the way she’d looked at me, the tears in her eyes when she shoved me away.

It felt like I was breaking apart, piece by piece, the walls closing in around me. I needed to fix this. I needed to fight for her, to tell her everything I felt, but I didn’t even know where to start. The thought of reaching out filled me with dread, but the idea of letting her go was even worse.

The low hum of Breaking the Habit by Linkin Park fades out, leaving an unsettling silence in the room. My mind is buzzing, the weight of the decision pressing down on me like a thousand bricks. I’ve had enough of this shit, this constant escape, this haze. I sit on the floor, my back against the bed, eyes glued to the messy room around me.

The space feels suffocating, but I can’t bring myself to leave it. The air is thick with the scent of smoke, remnants of the last few hours. My hands shake slightly, and I’m light-headed, the high of the weed still lingering, but I know I’ve pushed it too far. I get up slowly, like the effort of moving is too much, but I do it anyway. The room sways a little as I make my way to the dresser.

The song switches. Coming Down by The Weeknd starts to play, its haunting melody creeping in like a shadow. I barely register it at first.

All alone All Alone All Alone.

The intro, a reminder of my current life

The lyrics, though—

"I always want you when I’m coming down"—hit me hard, and I freeze in place. That’s exactly how I feel. Always coming down, always needing something when it fades.

I shift through my drawer, fingers trembling as I search for something—anything—that’ll take the edge off, ease the tension I’ve let build up in my chest. I don’t know how many Xanax I’ve already had. Maybe two, maybe more. I can't remember. My brain is foggy, but I don’t care. I find it—morphine. A small pill, white and unassuming. It promises relief.

I sit back down, back on the floor in front of my bed. The ashtray beside me catches my eye.

When the fuck did I put that there?

My thoughts are clouded, slipping through my fingers like water, but I feel the weight of that question. I stare at it, trying to piece together the memory of how it ended up there. But there’s no answer. Only silence, only the constant beat of the song, and the gnawing need for something to make it all stop.

I pop the morphine in my mouth, feeling it dissolve on my tongue as I lay my head back against the bed, eyes closed. My body sighs, the tension slowly draining, but it’s never enough. It’s never enough to make the hurt go away.

I reach for my stash, hands moving instinctively, and the thought comes to me, sharp and clear:

Fuck it, Imma roll up another. It's that kinda night.

The lyrics echo through my head: “I always want you when I'm coming down,” and I let the weight of them wash over me. Always coming down. Always wanting something to fill the emptiness.

I roll the joint with mechanical precision, the familiar motion grounding me. The smoke, when it hits my lungs, feels like a friend. A constant. But the moment is fleeting. Always is.

I light it up, the flame flickering before the burn settles, and I take a deep drag. The world narrows down to the haze around me, but I’m still here, still broken in pieces, caught between wanting more and wanting to forget.

The smoke curls in the air, the room hazy as I exhale, but it doesn’t ease the pressure in my chest. It never does. The thoughts of her—Y/N—are like ghosts, haunting every damn corner of my mind, even when I'm trying to escape. Her voice, those words, echoing louder now in the silence.

Just get out!

Her words. A slap to my face that cuts deeper than any high could numb.

For fuck’s sake,

even when I’m high, she’s still here, still fucking plaguing me. I can’t seem to shake it, not the anger, not the guilt, not the damn regret. I run a hand through my hair, frustrated, my heart pounding against my ribs. I fucking hate you... I mutter under my breath, the words bitter, a mix of rage and something else I can’t quite place. Something raw, something painful.

I take another hit, the smoke filling my lungs, and with it, that familiar burn, but it doesn't settle the storm inside. It doesn’t make the pain stop. It just makes it quieter, for a moment.

I sit back against the bed, staring at the ceiling, mind swimming in the haze, but one thing is crystal clear.

I miss you.

The thought hits me like a punch in the gut. Hard.

I miss you in ways I can’t even describe. I miss the way your eyes would light up when you laughed, the way you’d challenge me, even when you knew it pissed me off. I miss the way you used to look at me like you understood, like I wasn’t some fucking mess that needed to be fixed.

I wish I could take it back. I wish I hadn’t pushed you away.

But then again, what the fuck do I know about love? What do I know about keeping something good when I’ve spent my life burning everything I touch?

The high isn’t enough to make me forget you. It never is. The lyrics to the song “I always want you when I’m coming down” echo in the back of my mind, but it's not just the high. It's not just the drugs. It's something deeper. Something that keeps pulling at me, even when I don’t want it to.

I can’t escape it. I can’t escape you.

I take another drag, holding it in longer this time, but it doesn’t clear my mind. Nothing ever does. It just makes everything sharper, makes your absence feel even more suffocating.

I reach for my phone, the motion almost automatic, like it’s the only thing I know how to do when I’m drowning in this mess. My fingers hover over the screen for a second, but I press your name anyway. My thumb shakes, the screen lighting up in the dim room as I wait for you to pick up. The song continues, the lyrics hitting me like a goddamn truth:

“Pick up your phone, I’m all alone.”

It’s pathetic, I know. But I just need to hear your voice, even if it’s just for a second. Just to tell myself it wasn’t all a lie. Just to hear you tell me I’m not completely fucked.

But you don’t answer.

The call goes straight to voicemail, and for a second, I just stare at the screen, the silence in the room louder than the song now. My chest tightens. My fingers twitch. I don’t know if it’s anger or something else that crawls up my throat, but I toss the phone back onto the bed like it’s a weight, not caring where it lands. The screen flickers off, and I’m left with nothing but the empty room and the echo of your absence.

Fuck.

I sit there for a moment, just staring at the phone like maybe it’ll ring, like maybe you’ll magically pick up and everything will go back to how it used to be. But it doesn’t. It won’t.

God, I fucking miss you.

Geto walked into my room, his footsteps barely making a sound as he took in the mess. The roach of the blunt was barely glowing, now just a burnt stub, and I had stuff scattered all over the floor—like pieces of my life falling apart in front of me. I was sitting there, slouched against the wall, the ashtray close by, high as hell, trying to ignore everything, but it wasn’t working.

He walked over and handed me a bottle of water, but I didn’t want it. I didn’t want him to look at me, didn’t want anyone to see this version of me. I slapped the bottle away, hearing the thud as it hit the floor, and mumbled, “I don’t need it. I’m fine…”

But I wasn’t. I couldn’t keep the tears from falling. They just kept coming, and I felt like I couldn’t breathe through it.

Geto’s eyes flickered with concern as he took in the scene before him—my room was a disaster, much like my mind. He crouched down, unbothered by the mess, and quietly pushed the bottle back toward me.

“Drink it,” he said softly, his voice steady. “You’re not fine, Sukuna.”

I shook my head, a mix of anger and sadness bubbling inside me. “I said I don’t need it!” I snapped, the words coming out harsher than I intended. But the truth was, I felt anything but fine. The grief was suffocating, a thick fog that clouded my thoughts, and I could feel the tears threatening to spill over again.

“Gran... fuck man, why me?”

I choked out, my voice cracking as I buried my face in my hands. It felt like I was falling apart, and I didn’t know how to put myself back together.

Geto remained quiet, letting me vent, and I appreciated that. It was rare to find someone willing to sit in the dark with me, someone who didn’t try to fix me but simply allowed me to feel my pain. After a moment, he spoke again, his tone softer.

“You’re not alone in this, you know.”

I scoffed, bitterness creeping into my voice. “It sure as hell feels like it.”

He sighed, moving closer and placing a hand on my shoulder. “You’ve got us. You’ve got me. But you have to let us in. You can’t keep pushing everyone away.”

I lifted my head, meeting his gaze, and for the first time, I saw a flicker of understanding in his eyes. “How can you say that? Look at me!” I gestured around the room, the chaos reflecting the turmoil inside me. “I’m a fucking mess.”

“And that’s okay,” he replied firmly. “We all have our demons. You don’t have to face yours alone.”

His words hung in the air, and I felt a twinge of hope. Maybe I didn’t have to do this by myself. Maybe I could lean on someone for once instead of pretending to be strong all the time.

I took a deep breath, the air catching in my throat. “I don’t want to lose her, Geto.”

He nodded slowly, the gravity of my words settling between us. “Then fight for her. But first, you have to fight for yourself.”

I looked down, my heart racing at the thought. “What if I’ve already lost her?”

“Then you fight harder,” he said, squeezing my shoulder. “You show her that you’re worth it. That you can be better. That you want to be better.”

I stared at the floor, uncertainty swirling in my chest. It was terrifying to think about confronting Y/N again, especially after everything that had happened. But maybe Geto was right. Maybe I needed to show her that I could change, that I could be the person she needed.

I picked up the water bottle, my fingers trembling slightly as I opened it and took a sip. The cool liquid felt refreshing against my dry throat. “I don’t know if I can do this.”

“You can,” Geto insisted, his voice steady. “Just take it one step at a time. Talk to her. Tell her everything. Just be honest.”

I nodded, the thought of being vulnerable both terrifying and exhilarating. “Okay. I’ll try.”

Geto smiled, his expression easing the tightness in my chest just a little. “That’s all I’m asking. Just don’t give up on her or yourself.”

As he stood up, heading to the door, I felt a flicker of determination ignite within me. It wouldn’t be easy but I think I can try

Maybe not I took another swig from the bottle, letting the cool water wash away some of the pain. I pushed myself to my feet, but as soon as I stood, a wave of dizziness washed over me. My vision blurred, and before I could react, my legs buckled beneath me. I hit the floor hard, the world spinning out of control as everything faded to black.

In that moment, all the pain, the grief, the memories—everything that had been weighing me down—vanished into the darkness, leaving me with nothing but silence.

#jjk x black reader #sukuna x black reader #sukuna angst #sukuna x female reader #sukuna smut #sukuna #jjk x reader #jjk x you #sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna #black tumblr #black reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen

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lemmetreatya · 2 years ago

Text

Maybe It’s Foreboding (Or Not) — Miguel x fem!Reader

word count: 1.9k

content: no extreme warnings, modern au, fem!reader, reader uses female pronouns, reader commutes to work by train, reader knows basic spanish, hc that miguel speaks both irish and spanish — and that he’s irish on his father’s side (idk if this is correct or not), use of petnames, id say miguel is a bit ooc — but hes not — he just doesn’t have all that canon trauma going on sjsksk

FINALLY DID SOMETHING OF GOOD QUALITY FOR ONCE????? had to get back on my shit yktfv!!! also psa for the translations — i do not speak fluent spanish and not a lick of irish so please!! if there’s anything incorrect/needs changing, dont be afraid to tell me!! hope you enjoy ❤️❤️

Your usual commute to work was barely ever eventful. It mostly consisted of you getting onto your train — hoping you’d get a seat — and feeling despondent every time you noticed no seats were available.

Which was expected: You had to use a busy train in order to get to work on time. Any earlier and you’d have to wonder around your office’s surroundings to waste time and any later would have you clocking in late.

This timed train was so much more convenient for pace but it just never granted you those graceful minutes to sit down.

But alas, you stuck with it, because what else was there to complain about? The trains weren’t too full so it didn’t mean you were squashed like packed sardines and it was relatively quiet due to most passengers being too mellow at this time of morning to make any lucrative noise.

“Sorry, Miss.”

At first, you ignored the deep sounding words, assuming they could have been for anyone. But then a soft tap bounced just over your thigh and so you looked down to see what the disturbance was.

Looking up at you was a man with focused eyes. He wore a plain black suit with matching trousers. His white shirt had two buttons undone and he wore no tie. You couldn’t help but noticed how tossled his hair was. Clearly he was on his way to some type of occupation.

“Would you like to sit down?” He asks.

“Oh! I…”

You lean off from the pole you were supporting yourself on and adjust your bag on your soldier. Maybe this man was pitying you because you looked tired. You honestly weren’t and were genuinely just being comfortable, but you guess your lax composure compelled this reaction from him.

“No. Sorry, I was just being lazy. I’m fine, you don’t need to give up your seat for me.”

You shake your head and deny his request but the man continually persists. He was already starting to get up from his seat.

“No, en serio, sit.” He moved his briefcase over with his foot. “Can’t have a pretty lady like you standing now, can we?”

And it’s not like you agreed; Flattery of any kind from a stranger was always met with caution, but concerning he was going out of his way to give you a seat, you guess it’d be rude to deny it.

“Oh…How kind.” You stagnantly laugh.

The man took your place from before, now standing over you as he held onto the pole. He placed his briefcase between his feet. As you finally sit down and change your bag from your arm to your lap, you look up at the man with a grateful smile.

“Thank you.”

He only smiles at you acutely before offering you a curt nod. That was the only interaction you had the whole ride before you got off at your stop and made your way to work.

The next time you see the man isn’t until two days after the first ordeal and towards the end of the week.

He sees you before you see him, regarding he boarded the train sometime before you, and instantly flags you over.

“Miss!”

Weirdly, his call made you smile, and you pot on over, not expecting much.

“You really don’t have to.” You try as he gets up and out of his seat. He’s however already shaking his head.

“Don’t be silly. I already told you why you do so I don’t wanna hear anymore complaining.”

With rolled lips, you nod as you meekly sit down. Having an abash austere about you, you struggle to look up at him as you speak.

“Thank you. It’s very kind of you.”

“No need for thanks.”

You wait several seconds before looking up to give him a communal look of gratitude but you find he’s already looking down at you. You find difficultly baring his coarse stare and so you look back down at your lap.

Throughout the ride, you can’t help but notice how his leg kept innocently brushing against yours.

Once again, no more words were shared between you and like before, you get up and leave for your stop once it comes.

“You know how this goes.”

This is about the sixth time the man has offered his seat up for you, and quite frankly you do know how it goes, but it just never seems like a good enough reason to therefore take his seat.

“Señor.” You muse with a light smile as you board the train. “You really don’t have to.”

“Oh, but I really do. Come. Sit.”

The man is already out of the seat, hand widely displaying towards it — it’s yours.

Despite the seatless train, most people know by now not to sit in it’s stead. The man himself is tall and wide enough to deter anyone from trying, but most reoccurring passengers know the deal as well as you do.

As you take your seat, the man smiles down at you. His smiles have gotten a lot warmer over the various interactions. Per usual, he places his briefcase down near your feet and brush his knees with yours. You believe it’s going to be another wordless journey but the man opens his mouth, closes it, before saying:

“And please, call me Miguel.”

He jogs your knee with his, so you were aware it was you he was talking to, but you still looked up at him with a slight expression of confusion. For some reason, it was as if moths — the Night’s Butterfly — were flitting around within the neck of your stomach.

“Sorry?”

He sighs out of his nose. It was not out of annoyance, but as if he too was experiencing some emotions of nervousness. The man however had enough confidence to look down at you and attempt to gain your gaze.

“As opposed to señor, call me Miguel.”

Your mouth lets out a small ‘ah’.

“Miguel.” You repeat.

So his name was Miguel.

It suited him, and made slight sense concerning he seemed to know Spanish well, but even more so because it was as if he had metamorphosed right in front of you. It wasn’t a physical change, but being able to put a name to a face definitely altered your perception of him. It was as if he’d become more human.

With a soft hum, you look up at him with an inquisitive contort.

“Miguel.” You taste his name in his mouth once more. “Is that what you’d like me to call you or is that your actual, real, government name?”

The man’s expression was unreadable.

“Well, what do you think?”

You shrug, unsure why he’s asked the question, but you give your answer anyways.

“I’d think it’d be kinda stupid for you to give your government name to a stranger on the train. So I’m guessing it’s a nickname or at least a pseudo one.”

Miguel’s eyes clip towards the moving view behind you, before training back onto your face.

“Looks like I’m kinda stupid then.”

You pause, register what he’s said, and then let out a tinkling laugh as you shake your head meticulously. Miguel chuckles a few seconds after you, and he can’t help watching you as he does so.

There’s a pause.

“I’m not much of a stranger anymore though, right? We’re more acquaintances than anything.” He tries.

“But Miguel, you don’t even know my name.”

“Only because you haven’t told me.” He shrugs.

This is the most quick-fire that he’s ever been but you’d be lying if you said you weren’t enjoying it.

“You want my government name or the pseudo one?” You muse.

“It’s only fair that you give me the government one.” He catches himself before adding more gently, “Only if you’re comfortable doing so and kinda stupid like me.”

Once again, you can’t help the smile that braces your mouth. You tell him your name, the government one, and Miguel knocks your knees together in concur.

“Ah. Hermosa nombre por una hermosa dama.” [1]

He says, and regardless of whether you understood or not, you knew what he was getting at. If his words didn’t convince you then it was the silky look of— admiration? That gave him away.

Your cheeks heated, and your head dipped. All you could force out was a humble Thank You.

“Where I’m from, we have this saying.”

Miguel angles his breakfast snacks in your direction and you wordlessly take a small handful.

Surprisingly, your usual train was a lot quieter this morning. Maybe it was due to school holidays season, but there was enough space for you and Miguel to both have a seat. Your journey so far had been non-stop chatter.

“Más í an ceann í, beidh a fhios ag do chroí sula ndéanann tú.” [2] He reprises wisely.

It wasn’t Spanish, and you knew Miguel spoke Irish (“That old bastard was only good for one thing.”), so the translation was pretty much lost on you.

“Is that so?” You say with a hum and a crunch.

Miguel is also crunching on some of his snack, palm covering his mouth as he chucks the small pebbles towards the back of his throat before he’s shaking his head.

“Nope, that was a complete fucking lie. No such saying exists like that, I just made it up on the spot.” Miguel leaves room for you to let out a burst of laughter. “But, if it was a saying, I’d live by it like it was gospel.”

Shaking your head, you finish the portion of snacks that were in your mouth before you reply.

“Maybe you should paten it then. Make sure no one else gets the chance in saying it’s the gospel they wrote.”

“Maybe I should patent it…” Miguel echoes to himself with a deep laugh. “Yeah, maybe I should.”

The both of you lull into a comfortable silence. The sort of silence you could fall into with a long time friend who was low maintenance, or a family member who you tolerated sharing the living room space with. It was the type of stilling that didn’t require speech but welcomed it if it came. Mornings with Miguel were the calm before the inevitable storm and the small pick-me-up that pushed you out of bed.

But then as you pondered how he made you feel, you realise that you only knew Miguel within the context of your work commute. You’d only ever spoken to this man within the short time that you travelled to work; Never before, never after. Had you gotten just one train earlier or later — heck, one carriage — different that fateful day, it would have inevitably changed the course of your life and the starting foundation of the friendship (?).

Life truly was funny in how it dealt it’s cards.

“What does it mean anyways?” You ask with piqued interest.

Miguel makes a WTF face, a face he made often, before he’s scrunching up his packet of finished snacks and dumping it within the blue convenience store bag he had. You recognise that everything he’d purchased was in Spanish.

“What does what mean? Be more specific.”

“Your fake saying you lied about.”

Miguel turns his head to look at you, those deep insightful eyes of his analysing you, searching for something. You’re not sure if he found what he was looking for. Whether he did or not, you wouldn’t know.

The man only turns forwards again and snorts.

“Don’t worry your pretty lil’ head about it.” He concludes. “You wouldn’t want to know.”

________________________________

[1]: Beautiful name for a beautiful lady

[2]: If she’s the one, your heart will know before you do

#miguel #miguel ohara #miguel o’hara #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel x reader #miguel x black reader #atsv #atsv x black reader #atsv x reader #spiderman #spiderman 2099

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janeuary-month · 1 month ago

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6 weeks until Janeuary 2025!

The first day of Janeuary 2025 is here in about 6 weeks! Now’s a great time to get started on your creations before the busy end of the year hits! As a reminder, here are the daily prompts:

(Text version of prompts here)

You are NOT expected to do something every day! Just 1 work for 1 day of your choosing is enough, though you are welcome to do more if you like. And you are NOT expected to create your fanwork on that day, just post it on that day.

Your work must follow one of the daily prompts, be new for the event, not use AI, and include at least one of the following:

Character from one of Jane Austen’s works

Character from any Jane Austen adaptation (including modern ones)

Setting in a Jane Austen-like AU (regardless of characters)

For example, any of these would be fine:

Darcy and you the reader live in the Star Wars universe [character from Jane’s works]

Cher from Clueless marries Inigo Montoya [character from Jane adaptation]

Han and Leia live in Regency England [setting in Jane AU]

Darcy and Cher live in Regency England [all three: Jane character, Jane adaptation character, Jane setting!]

Completely canon-compliant works are of course also allowed!

Check out the FAQs and full rules for the event.

Follow this blog to see all the creations as they are posted during the month!

Reblogs are appreciated!

#reminder #polls #janeuary #janeuary 2025 #jane austen #regency #fandom event #jaff

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ichorai · 5 months ago

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a forgotten sweater ; theon greyjoy (m).

art by @shebsart!

pairing ; modern!theon greyjoy x reader (afab / no pronouns mentioned)

synopsis ; in which you go to fetch the sweater you had forgotten last time you and theon fucked. and this time, you most definitely weren't going to fuck him again.

words ; 1.6k

themes ; literally just smut LMFAO, modern au, college au, basically fwb au but reader doesn't want to admit it

warnings / includes ; unprotected piv sex, creampie, foul language, theon wears batman boxers, poor robb must be traumatized, physical descriptions for theon follow book canon, not the show!

There was just something about him. Something that kept you coming back for more each and every time, even though you always swore you would never touch him again. Theon was not your type, not in the slightest… but, God, he was mind-numbingly good in bed.

“We’re not sleeping together,” you had assured him when you stopped by his dorm to pick up a sweater you’d forgotten from the last time the two of you tangled together. His dormmate, Robb, had overheard your blunt words from the kitchen, and flushed a bright shade of crimson before quietly excusing himself to his own bedroom.

Theon handed you your sweater and shrugged in a manner he hoped came off as I don’t care. “Fine.”

“Thanks,” you said, clutching your sweater to your chest. “I hope we can still be friends—” Not that you were ever really close friends to begin with—Robb's girlfriend had been the one to introduce the two of you to each other. You were more distant acquaintances than anything. That also just so happened to occasionally have sex.

“With benefits?” he asked, seeming to perk up at the thought. All efforts of nonchalance were thrown to the wind.

“If benefits mean someone to accompany you to a fast food restaurant or pick you up when you’re drunk, I can do that. Sexual benefits, though…” you trailed off, shaking your head with a grimace. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

Theon stepped closer to you. “But why?” he just about whined. “I want you. I want you again, baby. The sex was good for you, wasn’t it?”

“Yes, but—”

“I made you cum, didn’t I? More than once, if I can remember correctly.”

“Theon—”

His hand jutted out as he began to list off, “Once with my tongue, another on my fingers, and who knows how many on my co—”

“Theon!” you exclaimed, jerking forward to slam a hand over his mouth, worried Robb was still around to overhear such filth. “God, you can’t… I don’t…”

Whatever you wanted to say, you couldn’t recall your own thoughts anymore, because Theon was staring at you with such burning want. His eyes were hooded and his gaze so lustful you could just about feel your resolve crumbling that very second. His skin was so warm under your hands…

“I’m not sleeping with you again,” you whispered, more to convince yourself than him.

“Fine,” he replied, muffled from behind your palm.

Five minutes later, the two of you had stumbled into his room and you had hastily shed your clothes. Before you knew it, you were situated on top of him with his dick already sliding inside of you.

Theon let out a loud moan—a choked, hissy sort of sound—and his forehead fell forward so that it rested just between your breasts as your warm walls clenched tightly around his shaft. Prior to you sinking down on him, he'd been so hard he was aching, all aroused throbs and angry red tips and drips of precum.

He looked up at you with dark eyes, glossy with lust and deliberately nipped at one of your tits. Flashes of his teeth and tongue laving over your skin made you close your eyes and hum out a broken sound. There was no movement on your end, not yet, but his hands moved further downwards, from resting on your hips to digging the pads of his fingers into the flesh of your ass.

Then, without warning, Theon jerked you up enough just so his tip could stay inside you, and slammed back inside just as quickly. A yelp echoed across the room, and your hands scrambled up to clutch and Theon's hair. You tugged at the dark strands, just the way you knew he liked, which earned you a string of moans as he began bouncing you on his cock. The lewd, squelching noises that ricocheted off of each desperate thrust made your cheeks burn fiery hot.

“Ah—don't clench around me so hard,” Theon warned breathlessly, brows knitted. “I'll cum too quick, baby, you feel too—haaah—you feel too good.”

“Fuck me, Theon, please,” you said, rolling your hips forward against his. “Please, please, please…”

Your litany of pleas faded into a low moan as Theon began drilling his cock into you, eyes rolling into the back of his head.

“You’re so wet, holy shi—it.” His voice broke in his fervor. “Feels so good baby, I could die like this.”

“Please don’t,” you said against his hair. “Rub my clit before you do.”

“Fuck, that’s so fucking hot,” he whined, one of his hands letting go of your ass to slither over your hip and rub sloppy, wet shapes over your sensitive clit. His touch made you jump closer to him, unsure to flinch towards or away from the searing pleasure.

Theon shifted his angle so that he could pound into you impossibly deeper. You felt him hit just the right spot inside you, sending you into a bucking, scratching frenzy. The delicious pain of your nails going down his back seemed only to spur him on.

“Oh, fuck—Theon, wait—I’m going to—” You couldn’t even finish your sentence before you were gushing around him, your cunt spasming tightly around his throbbing cock, your toes curling against his bed sheets soiled.

“Yeah, fucking cum on this dick. Fuck, you feel so good. Ten minutes ago you were telling me you didn’t want me—now look at you, baby,” he crooned. He was still drilling into you despite your mumbles of it being too much. Theon was no gentleman—but he knew you liked it that way. “I’m not stopping. Fuck—yeah, baby, you’ll take it for me, won’t you? You’ll take it all, yes.”

He was practically snarling at that point. His teeth were sinking into your shoulder and all you could do was let him fuck you and bite you and grip at you. The pleasure never ebbed away, not with his fingers still toying with your clit.

“I need you again,” he muttered, licking a hot, wet stripe up your neck. You squirmed in his grasp, moaning out a complaint that fell against deaf ears. “This can’t be the last time, baby, no. Pussy feels too fucking good, oh my God. Tell me this won’t be the last.”

There was no pause to his thrusts, but Theon did go silent for a minute, gnashing his teeth together as he awaited your response. When there came none, he swatted at your ass and you choked on a gasp.

“It won’t be the last, fuck—!” you bit out, slamming your hips down in tandem with his. You could already feel your second orgasm begin to creep up on you.

He shifted the angle once more and buried his cock fast and deep into your sopping cunt as if his life depended on it. The noises were squelching and lewd, you could feel the tips of your ears burning.

“You close?” he asked.

“Mhm.” You nodded vehemently. “Don’t stop.”

And he didn’t, not for what felt like hours and hours, when realistically it was only a few minutes. Theon groaned in a broken, breathless rhythm, mumbling that he was going to cum. His fingers worked faster at your clit, and that was when you broke. You shuddered around him, clenching like a damn vice. He was loud when he came, so loud that you knew for certain Robb could probably hear the two of you, and you shoved his head down against your shoulder so that his moans were muffled into your skin. You could feel his hot spend inside of you, already dripping and leaking into the mixture of your arousal creaming between your thighs.

“Fuck,” Theon said as he eased himself out of you. He couldn’t help but slap his cock against your sensitive clit, sharply laughing when you jerked away from the touch and glared at him.

You stood up and began to collect your scattered articles of clothing on wobbly legs, chest still rising and falling rapidly. You could feel his cum dribble down quicker now that you were standing.

The impish grin Theon was wearing fell away when you said, “This is not happening again.”

He looked ready to throw himself at the ground and grovel for your pussy again. For some sick reason, the thought excited you. It didn’t sit well with you that you were just as perverted as he was.

“What can I say to get you to change your mind?” He was hopping on one leg towards you as he pulled on a pair of boxers. Batman-patterned boxers, you noted with amusement. You hadn’t even noticed that when he was undressing earlier. God, he was such a fucking loser.

You spared him a genuine smile, before leaning forward to kiss his lower cheek, which was scratchy with dark stubble. In all of the times the two of you have fucked, which was upwards of a dozen times now, the two of you had kissed plenty of times—but never before or after. Theon blinked at you with big, dopey eyes.

“Bye, Theon,” you said, choosing not to give him an answer to his question.

He watched in silence as you slipped on your shirt, and high-tail out of his room. He scratched the back of his neck and let out a big sigh—then spotted the forgotten sweater you had carelessly thrown onto his messy desk.

A lopsided smile tugged at his lips. Yeah, this was definitely happening again.

#theon greyjoy x reader #theon greyjoy fanfiction #theon greyjoy smut #theon greyjoy fluff #theon greyjoy imagines #theon greyjoy #theon greyjoy drabbles #theon greyjoy x you #theon greyjoy ff #asoiaf fanfiction #game of thrones fanfiction #game of thrones x reader #asoiaf x reader

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lili-of-the-wildfire · 11 months ago

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okay fine, u all forced my hand in this one. these are MY azzie headcanons, mostly based on what’s canon in the books but i’m nothing if not a woman who would have been forcefully lobotomized so there’s also some delusion sprinkled in. enjoy 😙 (not proof read or correctly punctuated or even coherently arranged, we die like men on this blog)

* he may be a bit quiet in some situations, especially when meeting people who’s intentions he hasn’t quite figured out yet, but if he does nothing else, he’ll offer up a small smile in greeting. he’s not just going to sit there aloof in a corner, sans introduction.

* he’s a total vibe reader tho, his line of work has made sure of that. like he just knows when something is off about someone even if there is evidence saying otherwise. and he’s right every time, damn him.

* he tucks his hands behind his back out of habit, not necessarily shame. he used to be far more insecure, but as the centuries dragged on, he’s become less and less ashamed of what was done to him as a defenseless child.

* that’s not to say he’s fully healed and moved forward, just that time has given him some perspective and wisdom.

* (btw he loves hand massages with your lavender and lemon verbena lotion and he is not afraid to admit it)

* when he gets himself into trouble he tries to slink off into the shadows slowly, instead of disappearing all at once. nobody has a problem calling him out on it, but sometimes he honestly does get away with it.

* he has TASTE! he took one look at cassian and feyre’s gods awful decorating and didn’t even remove his outside clothes before he was fixing it.

* he and his mate’s house would look like something out of a Williams Sonoma holiday catalog.

* the two of you would put up lebron numbers on a joint pinterest account in a modern au.

* he’s quick as a whip with his dry humor and comebacks, and while cassian may be his main target, the two of them combined?? Mr. your mother and Mr. two hundred years at least TOGETHER? jesus it’s a wonder rhys came out of Illyria with the ego that he did.

* he differs from his brothers in that PDA is not his jam. he’s not getting blowjobs at the dining room table or fucking in tents while people die outside. he’s definitely not fingering you for the first time in a shabby inn, either. he’s more publicly reserved than that because he favors romance more.

* you know how rhys/feyre and cassian/nesta fucked before they were in any sort of relationship? azzie’s not doing that with someone he genuinely wants to pursue a relationship with.

* consider the following: does a man who’s spent centuries pining after the same woman come off as anything other than a romantic? no, lovely reader, not in the slightest.

* he’s got the softest heart, i just know it. while he’s kind, he has his reserved exterior, but i think once you get past that as a relationship develops, he’s so tender and thoughtful.

* his gift to nesta was so personal and thoughtful despite their superficial relationship, and he expected nothing in return. imagine what he could come up with for someone he knew on a more personal and intimate level!!

* his gifts may not be as over-the-top extravagant as Rhys would prefer, but they’re so well-planned and personal because he actually listens to you! and he watches you! and he takes the time to actually think about what would be useful and meaningful for you (Mor could NEVER, luv u tho baby)

* while he’s not overtly sexual, Azriel is a FLIRT! a shameless flirt! he doesn’t need to resort to poetry because when you exasperatedly tell him “stop trying to distract me, I’m busy!” he just arches a thick brow, looks you up and down and says “make me.”

* BROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

* And your cheeks heat a bit because he’s looking at you like he knows exactly what you’d taste like and he’s starving for it and then he just laughs and you realize you’re a fly that got stuck in those honey-trap eyes again

* So you huff and roll your eyes, turning to leave the room but a hand on your wrist tugs your momentum backwards and suddenly there’s another hand cupping your cheek, thumb stroking along your jawline.

* A deep hum rumbles from the back of his throat, his gaze dragging from your mouth up to your eyes, “Do that again, I like watching your eyes roll back for me.”

* ladies/theydies i am PROFUSELY sweating !!!!!!!!!

#azriel x reader #azriel #azriel fanfic #acotar

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moonbaby26 · 6 months ago

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Anyone else get abnormally freaked out about making some canon non-compliant mistake while writing One Piece fan fiction? There’s so many characters, so many details. Literally nearly THIRTY YEARS of content about these psychos out there at present. It’s daunting. 😭

If you don’t know what I mean about this very specific/stupid anxiety, imagine you just got into the fandom yourself. Maybe you’ve seen Law fanart and think he’s neat. You learn his backstory off wiki summaries and reels or whatever and then think he’s tragic. So you fall in love. You decide you’d be safe plopping him into a modern!au while you’re still trying to work through the manga or anime as you can.

You get a cute, fluffy idea of Law trying to propose to reader at a fancy restaurant. Cora is there for support. He’s supposed to film the proposal from another table that he and Doffy are at. Doffy is being a menace, Cora is being a klutz. It’s sitcom level comedy of errors. It’s so fun. BUT you have this whole section in there about how good the bread is at this specific restaurant. They talk about goddamn garlic bread like it was fine art because they’re both super nervous as reader already has an inkling of what is really going on.

But…LAW HATES BREAD. Yes, it’d be hilarious that he spent so much time talking about it anyway because he was that flustered. But you as the author really didn’t know. You didn’t know! Because you have a real life, and a real job, and you didn’t see the memes yet. You didn’t see that scene yet!

Now, does it matter? No, of course it doesn’t! It’s fan fiction. It’s fun and it’s free. But you, as the sensitive author you are will always remember that as the day Law accidentally liked the garlic bread. Because you were still a newcomer to this insane asylum of neurotic pirate lore.

It’s like that. My brain is dumb. Just slap a “may not be canon compliant” warning on everything and call it a day I know.

But I can’t, and it’s always in the back of my mind. Did I just screw up royally? Did I miss that one SBS about character X and how they absolutely wouldn’t ever do what I just said they did?

(P.S. Kuma shouldn’t have been in chapter 1 of my Doflamingo long fic. He didn’t become a warlord until four years after the fic’s current place in the timeline. I’m probably leaving it alone. That fic started as a one shot without a hard place in the timeline. But…I will still be thinking of it. It is now occupying brain space. Wtf. Why!? 🤣)

#one piece fan fiction #one piece fandom #one piece headcanons #law x reader #law x y/n #law x you #law op #law one piece #law x oc #trafalgar d water law #trafalgar law #one piece

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werepuppy-steve · 8 months ago

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april fic rec

a monthly rec list to help me handle my tbr

<- march fic rec ❀ more fic recs ❀ my ao3

jake from state farm - T, complete @matchingbatbites

tags: modern au, cheating (not between steddie), getting together, valentines day

After a moment the ringing stops, and a voice says "Hello?" "Uh, hi, is this Steve?" "It is, who is this?" "It's Eddie, Jake's roommate? I got your number from him." Well, from his phone when he'd left it unattended one day, but Steve doesn't need to know the details. "I really, really hate to be making this call, especially the day before Valentine's, but uh. Jake is cheating on you."

wrong number - G, complete @steddiealltheway

tags: modern au, texting, getting together, friends to lovers

Steve waits a few more minutes before he makes his way out of the house and goes to his own. Once he gets into his room, he pulls out the piece of paper and types it into his contacts - after messing up the password and struggling to find his contacts. Steve: So not a serial killer I hope? There’s instantly some typing back that worries Steve. Shouldn’t Robin be distracted by her date? Robin: Not a serial killer but you might be… who is this? You intrigue me. Not Robin. Steve’s heart races as he looks at the scrap of paper. Damn scribbled mess.

Baby, It's Cold Outside - T, complete @steviewashere

tags: established relationship, nightmares, ptsd, hurt/comfort, fluff

He was blissfully asleep in bed when a sudden cold shock to his back awoke him. Steve yelped, “Jesus!” And turned around to see who had snuck into his house this early in the morning (it’s only nine) and came face to face with his boyfriend, Eddie. “Eds, what the fuck? Hello? Hi? What happened to those? Christ.”

Am I The Asshole? - N/A, 5.6k, complete cairparavels

tags: modern au, AITA, getting together, autistic eddie, misunderstandings, fuck chad all my homies hate chad

Eddie hates his best friend’s new boyfriend and believes it is proof that he is homophobic. He takes to reddit to find out.

We could plant a house, we could build a tree - E, 3.7k, complete what_about_the_fish

tags: breeding kink, established relationship, feminization

When Eddie's dirty mouth stumbles into an interesting kink that makes Steve moan, they have to explore it further. A messy smut filled ride through Steve's breeding kink.

Come on Baby, Eat the Rich - E, 4.2k, complete nativity_in_black

tags: mild exhibitionism, daddy kink, feminization, dom/sub

“Eddie, we can’t- you know how they are. Just a bunch of rich snobs who think they own the place. What if we get caught?”, he worried aloud, trying to keep his voice steady as Eddie smoothed his hands along Steve’s waist. “Mm,”, Eddie hummed in thought, a mischievous glint in his eyes. Clicking his tongue, he looked back up at Steve, “Guess we’ll just have to be quiet, then. What do you say, baby?”

Come Back To Me - T, 3.8k, complete @beetlesandstarss

tags: major/temporary character death, grief/mourning, angst with a happy ending

“Where— uh. Where are you gonna bury him?” Eddie asks. “We’ve got… We’ve got some of his stuff. A box. We thought maybe…” “That’s a fine idea, son,” Steve’s grandpa says. And then, “Next to his parents seems the most fitting.” And— oh. Oh, God. No. Steve’s parents are— Are they dead too? (Or, Steve dies. And then he comes back.)

Hazy Shade - T, 5k, complete weird_witchcraft

tags: season 2 compliant, canon divergence, eddie gets involved earlier

Eddie stumbles into Merrill’s farm late at night on Sunday, November 4th, 1984 and runs into the last person he’d expect to see: Steve Harrington.

Worth the Effort - T, 9k, complete @solarmorrigan

tags: post-s2, friends to lovers, eddie takes care of steve, sick fic, hurt/comfort

Eddie ambles up and drapes himself against Steve’s locker door, head tossed back and eyelashes fluttering wildly. “Oh, Steve,” he simpers, high and breathy, “aren’t you going to whisk me away for a whirlwind Valentine’s romance?” “I’d love to, but I’m pretty sure I have a stats test tomorrow,” Steve drawls, sending a sidelong smirk at Eddie. “Ugh. Romance is dead,” Eddie declares. - In which Eddie contends with his crush on Steve Harrington, learns what a migraine is, and gets a valentine, more or less in that order.

nice to meet you, where you been? - T, 3/3, complete @flowercrowngods

tags: modern au, tattoo artist steve, friends to lovers, ace steddie, transmasc eddie, i could scream forever about how lovely this fic is

When Eddie enters the tattoo parlour that Chrissy recommended to him, he doesn't know what'll hit him. Never in a million years would he have expected the pastel or the minimalistic decor or how really fucking polished everything about this place is. It's like an antithesis to Eddie's entire existence has been created with the makings of this shop. The absolute cherry on top is the man that walks into the room to greet him, though. Because there is no way that Steve Harrington, whom Eddie had the maddest crush on in high school, owns a tattoo shop. No way. Nuh-uh. Not dressed in pastel like he is. Eddie wants to hate it. But he doesn't account for how genuinely amazing Steve is, or how crushing on him is the easiest thing. Really, it's a losing game from the start.

Mutually Beneficial - E, 1.2k, complete @steddie-island | kintsugi_kid

tags: mean dom eddie, age difference, power imbalance, choking, bottom steve

It had started innocently enough, with Steve getting kicked out as soon as he’d graduated and with Eddie Munson, town outcast, advertising a room for rent and a kid who needed a sitter. Moving in would be mutually beneficial. It evolved into, “Pretty thing, you take care of me… and I’ll take care of you.” Really, how was Steve supposed to argue with that?

Love and Smoke - T, series, WIP @stevieschrodinger

tags: cottage witch steve, snake familiar eddie, fluff

She sighs, rolling over on the couch like Steve’s just committed a huge offense, “I just don’t understand why you're so against it.” “There are a lot of reasons why a familiar is a bad idea Robbie.” And because they’ve been over this what feels like a hundred times, Steve can list them easily, “it’ll be fur or feathers, so not only would they shed on my furniture, and I’ll have fur or whatever everywhere, you know I don’t do so well with bird dander. Makes me sniffly. They get separation anxiety, so they have to go with you everywhere. Not exactly going to be convenient if I pull a- a – dire wolf or something, and you want to go to the movies. And if I leave them home alone, it would be cruel.” “You might get something small and hairless! Like a- a frog!” Rob insists. Steve just rolls his eyes and huffs, “but I might not. So no. Also, a frog? Really?” Not that Steve has anything against frogs particularly, just...where the hell would it stay? The sink? “Steve!” “I said no Robbie, okay. I’m not lonely. I have my garden, my books, I have plenty to do. I see you at the weekend, I see plenty of people at Tuesday Market. I am fine.”

Can I Kiss You? - G, complete @transvampireboyfriend

tags: crushes, first kiss, fluff

“Can I kiss you?” Steve asks, eyes glued to the side of Eddie’s face. Eddie is sitting on his couch and Steve is hanging out across from him, lounging on Wayne’s recliner. He gets to use it whenever Wayne’s at work, with his explicit permission and now priority, since Eddie was jealous enough to start a mock argument and Wayne took Steve’s side just to tease his nephew. So now Eddie has to give that place up whenever Steve’s over. Which, he almost always is, these days.

If Found, Return to Me - G, complete @steviewashere

tags: established relationship, couples t-shirts

He grips the hem of his shirt and tugs. Chin tucked into his neck so that he can read the text, which is bold and black and dark on the white background. ‘If found, return to Steve.’ Eddie groans. “Do we seriously have to wear these?” He whines.

fear the inky blackness of night - T, complete @griefabyss69

tags: post-s4, pre-steddie, steve getting over his fear of the dark

So when Eddie walks into his room, as he does, you know, like a person will just walk into the room he sleeps in, bed and dresser and guitars and all, he doesn’t expect there to just be… A fucking guy in there.

burgundy kiss - E, 6.5k, complete @hawkinsbnbg

tags: soulmates, modern au, dom/sub, under-negotiated kink, daddy kink, light breeding kink

Steve got Good boy inscribed on his butt, just on the right cheek. It would be funny if it was a tattoo Steve had gotten one time when he was too drunk and on a dare. Except it wasn't a tattoo. At all. Even though it kind of looked like one. In truth, it was the first word his soulmate would say to him.

Or, a meet-sexy story where Steve's soulmate is a man of culture.

dance with the devil - E, 2/?, WIP @sourw0lfs

tags: modern au, guardian angel eddie, monster steve, magic

The apartment is quiet around him, the only sound is the rush in his ears from the growing hangover, but it’s not so big he can’t find the owner. When he finally does, Steve actually throws up. If it weren’t for the smallest sliver of still clean blond hair amidst the sea of blood-clump strands, Steve wouldn’t even believe that the mangled corpse in front of him is the same guy as the night before. What the fuck happened? OR: The one where Steve turns 21 and his life turns upside down in the worst ways, complete with gaining the most obnoxious guardian angel known to man

go for it - T, 4.6k, complete @steveseddie | mseg_21

tags: flirting, getting together, pining, first kiss

Steve huffs. “What makes you so sure that you can convince me?” He asks with an arched eyebrow. “The kids have tried and failed and you know how relentless they are.” “Yeah, but I can be very persuasive.” He gestures at himself with a hand flourish. “You know, as a cult leader and all.” Steve hums. “Of course.” He leans his hip against the counter, only an inch away from Eddie’s thigh. “There’s gotta be something I can do to convince you,” Eddie says, moving his thigh until it touches Steve’s hip. “Something I can give you in exchange. To make it worth your while.” Steve’s eyes immediately dart down to Eddie’s lips. Eddie’s stomach swoops. There it is. or Eddie and Steve finally stop dancing around each other- too bad that the Hellfire Club is there to witness it

The Hawk - T, series, WIP @fastcardotmp3

tags: nancy wheeler centric, "the bear" au, multi pov, grief/mourning, character studies

A "The Bear" AU about the restaurant that falls into Nancy Wheeler's lap and the people that help her make it more than a burden. (Ensemble, Multi-POV)

the sweetest thing - E, 7/7, complete @cranberrymoons

tags: no nut november, established relationship, dom/sub undertones

It had started out simple enough between them, Eddie making some off-hand comment about Steve not being able to hold out for a whole month and Steve, ever unable to back down from a challenge, rising to the bait. “Whatever,” he’d said, rolling his eyes. “A month? Please.” He could do a month. Easy. He just hadn't counted on Eddie being – well. Himself. eddie goads steve into a No Nut November challenge; he never said anything about taking it easy on him

The Hole Story - E, series, complete @griefabyss69

tags: pre-relationship, fantasizing, slow burn, rimming

Steve wishes he hates the way he can't stop thinking about Eddie's tongue.

surface-level freak - E, 7k, complete @starryeyedjanai

tags: modern au, transmasc steve, werewolf eddie, human steve

Steve Harrington, Werewolf Fucker. He thinks he should be able to put that on his business card, but Robin says it's a little crass.

But My Heart Is Just A Little Boy - T, 2k, complete Atalia_Gold

tags: established relationship, hurt/comfort, steve has dyscalculia

“Look, just carry on without me,” Steve muttered, and stood up quick enough that his chair scraped on the floor. “Steve -” Dustin started, but Steve was finished, striding towards the stairs and blinking back tears. He wasn’t going to cry in front of the kids, not over a fucking game, not over something his boyfriend loved so much. But they were coming faster than he could blink them back as he headed out of Mike’s stuffy basement and out to the driveway, the cold night air caressing his flushed face. This was supposed to have been a treat for Eddie. It was supposed to be fun, and Steve had ruined the night by being fucking stupid. ***** Steve wanted to surprise Eddie by joining in on D&D. Unfortunately, he's struggling with the math involved, and the kids aren't making it any easier.

Just a Shirt - T, 1k, complete @shares-a-vest

tags: established relationship, fluff, love confessions

Eddie makes Steve a customised Hellfire shirt, just for him.

The Taste of the Divine - E, 4.3k, complete tsmkeeler

tags: steddie as roommates, phone sex operator eddie, dom/sub, getting together

The exhale Steve was releasing staggered, and Eddie’s ears caught what sounded like Steve’s moan. The shuffling on the other side of the line reminded him he was on the clock and this was a good paying customer. He couldn’t just drop the line to handle Steve. He just needed to get him back in position and doing something, then he could get Steve out of there. He made a correcting noise. “On. Your. Knees.” Little brat thought he could do whatever he wanted for the pleasure. To Eddie’s surprise, Steve lowered to his knees. His chin tilted to his chest, hands on the tops of his thighs. He was sitting so pretty. What was stiff was now throbbing against the rough material of his dark jeans. “Yes, sir,” Steve replied breathily. Surely, Eddie was asleep and this was a night fantasy well beyond his best daydreams. There was no way. No fucking way. OR Steve and Eddie aren't only co-workers, they're roommates. While working his second job late at night, Eddie forgets to close the door and is pleasantly surprised by his roommates willingness to join him.

The Right Wrong Number - M, 8/8, complete @apomaro-mellow

tags: wrong number, getting together, phone sex, first meetings, modern au

Steve gets the wrong number and starts texting an interesting guy.

Kinktober 2023 - E, 19/19, complete @stevesjockstrap | deansdemondick

tags: kinktober, multiple pairings

Kinky Drabbles for October 😈

The End Of The Line - E, 6.4k, complete entanglednow

tags: post-s4, nightmares, (platonic) mutual masturbation, phone sex, feelings realization, fantasies, humor (like so much humor this fic made me laugh so hard)

Eddie knows better than to ignore a phone ringing in the middle of the night. After everything they've done for him the least he can do is be there for a friend in need.

Never Caught my Breath - E, 6.1k, complete @emchant3d

tags: established relationship, dom/sub, service dom eddie, role reversal (kind of), needy dom eddie, transmasc steve, daddy kink

“I know you had a long, long day,” he tells him, his touch tracing down, down, down, Eddie’s torso shivering beneath the ticklish drag of his hand, “so why don’t you just let me take care of you, huh? Does that sound nice?” “Yeah, baby,” Eddie says, barely more than a whisper. “Yeah, that sounds real fuckin’ nice.” Eddie works too hard. Steve helps him relax.

You're the Missing Piece - E, 7.9k, complete brokenpromisesandhope

tags: modern au, established stancy, polyamory negotiations, 5+1, stoncy endgame, exhibitionism,my first stoncy read and it made me feel Emotions idk

5 times Steve, Nancy and Jonathan had sex without each other and one time they did it together.

#cj talks #fic rec #steddie #steddie fic rec #steddie fic

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avelera · 6 months ago

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So most of the IWTV fandom is on board with the idea that the Devil’s Minion era of Daniel/Armand probably happened in some form in the 1970s, but what if that’s not the only relationship in IWTV that didn’t end with someone being turned into a vampire the way they were in the books?

What if—and this theory has been churning in my head for a bit now— what if the 19th c. book version of Louis de Pointe du Lac still existed, and was the ancestor of the 20th c “Louis du Lac” of the show? What if he just never got turned in the show timeline?

There’s a few show tidbits that make me think this is a possibility.

1) Louis mentions that his family inherited a plantation. On the surface this seems more like a simple nod to his profession in the books (plantation owner) in the more palatable updated form of the show.

But what if Louis 1.0 is his ancestor who simply remarried a woman of color (he didn’t give a fuck what anyone thought of him at the point where Lestat swooped in) or even left his plantation to his own mixed race descendants (legitimate or not, it would hardly be unique for the time that they’d exist) when he died naturally?

2) Lestat’s fixation on Louis when he sees him threaten to kill his brother. Yes on the one hand, it’s always love at first sight for Lestat seeing Louis.

But the particular Cain instinct on display being fascinating to him is interestingly resonant if he, say, spared the original Louis from vampirism, but continued to keep tabs on the family. Then, a century later, there’s a descendant with the same name, the same sensitivity, the same green eyes as the Louis he spared, who is threatening a member of his own blood? Oh that would be too delicious for Lestat. He would HAVE to investigate this newest de Pointe du Lac scion who also bears the name of Louis.

3) The timeline with when Lestat went into the earth sure is a bit fuzzy in this timeline and entirely told to us by people who don’t really know the truth, who don’t event know who or what Those Who Must Be Kept are. Which is to say: extremely suspect.

We’ve been told that Lestat went into the earth after learning of Nicky’s death. Fine, plausible. I mean, that DID happen. It just didn’t last a full century.

But in book canon, he went from there into the earth after Gabrielle left, got picked up by Marius, then went to New Orleans to take care of his father before he died. Then everything in IWTV goes down and he gets the shit kicked out of him by Claudia and THEN by Armand and then goes into the earth in 1929.

So what I’m wondering is: are we saying he went into the earth at the end of the 1700s, after Nicky died, and stayed there until the 1900s when he meets modern Louis?

Or is there, perhaps, a little bit of wiggle room? Say, enough that he still went to New Orleans, tended his father until de Lioncourt Sr.’s death, met Louis 1.0, didn’t turn him, and went into the earth perhaps after his father’s death? Or did tv show Lestat’s dad die in the Revolution, or just alone in New Orleans without Lestat ever showing up to take care of him?

TL;DR, mostly this is just a fun theory. Heck, the most useful place for it is probably in a fanfic. But I admit, I am DYING to know what the update to Louis’s timeline means for Lestat’s timeline, and if perhaps there’s room in this whole AU of the show for the original Louis DPDL to have existed as well and perhaps, as the one who got away, make modern Louis all that much more irresistible to Lestat.

#iwtv #iwtv meta #vampire chronicles #Claudia is just a horrible coincidence in both cases with her name #BUT both Claudia’s had very different deaths from plague vs fire #so the name being a coincidence but everything else being different also kind of works

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wangxianficfinder · 2 months ago

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In the mood for...

Oct 18th

~*~

1. itmf fics where jiang yanli becomes the yunmeng jiang sect leader?

the focus doesn’t necessarily have to be on that aspect but i would love to see how that would turn out

thanks!

Just go forward like you mean it by tawaen (M, 101k, WangXian, WWX & WN &WQ, WWX & JYL, NHS & WWX, Canon Divergence, WWx does not attend the Wen indoctrination, WWX saves Lotus Pier, Inventor WWX, No Golden Core Transfer, Sect Leader JYL, JC Has No Golden Core, Bad Parents JFM & YZY, Not JC Friendly, but he gets a happier ending than canon so don’t look here for bashing)

Sail Away Sweet Sister by sami (M, 73k, WangXian, YZY/CSSR/MDM Lan, MingLi, Time Travel, EXTREME Canon Divergence, Wide Focus Narrative, Some People Live/Not Everyone Dies, Most Named/Canon Characters Live, Childhood Friends to Lovers, Families of Choice, Parenthood, this work contains a major tonal shift, Fluff, Angst, Underage Sex, not particularly explicit, but not at all ambiguous, PTSD, Only a tiny bit, Unforeseeable consequences, The butterfly effect, Slightly Dark JYL, Asexual Characters, but that’s not really the focus, Canon-Typical Violence, [Podfic] Cold read of Sail Away Sweet Sister by kisahawklin)

picking up the pieces by KouriArashi (M, 111k, JYL & LWJ, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Alternate Canon, Grief/Mourning, Angst, Regret, Family, Kid Fic, Families of Choice, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Politics, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Canon-Typical Violence, canon typical political bullshit, Eventual Happy Ending)

I Have Arranged to Tie You to Me by xxxMiaHikarixxx (G, 82k, WIP, WangXian, Lan protective team, Time Travel, Past, LWJ oriented, Arranged Marriage, Boys In Love, Soulmates, Fix-It, Jiang siblings, not jiang parents friendly, JC is slowly becoming a good sibling, Soft LWJ, Protective LWJ, Genius WWX) If the requester doesn't mind a WIP, plans for Jiang Yanli taking over as sect leader begin in chapter 18 of I Have Arranged to Tie You to Me

~*~

2. hi hi! any fics which have the song WangXian as the main focus or play a big part?

hi this is the person who sent the WangXian song ask I forgot to mention that I'd prefer if it was modern au but canon is fine too!

synesthesia by uchiuchi (T, 28k, WangXian, Modern, College/University, Strangers to Lovers, Friends to Lovers, Mutual Pining)

A Wish I Can't Stop Making by Tirielle (T, 51k, XuanLi, WangXian, Memory Loss, Slow Burn, Mystery, Secret Identity, Wishes, Magic, Canon, JYL Lives, JZX Lives, JGY Redemption, Character Death, Canon-Typical Violence, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Hairpins as a metaphor for love, Idiots in Love)

🔒Closer Than Eternity by Netrixie (T, 26k, WangXian, Modern AU, Reincarnation, an unhealthy addiction to starbucks, Immortals, cultivation is -kinda- commonplace, Self-Doubt, POV Alternating, Minor Original Character(s), Canon Compliant, Post-Canon, Temporary Character Death, Angst with a Happy Ending, not for jc fans, This is not a reconciliation fic)

every love story is a ghost story by aisthuu (M, 59k, WangXian, Modern Era, Reincarnation, Character Turned Into a Ghost, Post-Canon, Angst with a Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Mixed Canon)

~*~

3. Hello, I’m not sure if you’ve answered this before but do you have any fics where Wei Ying dies in the burial mounds and resurrects or ends up puppeting his body with resentful energy? Thanks so much!

🔒 A Heart Undying by NonsensicalRambling (M, 114k, WangXian, Undead WWX, Canon-Typical Violence, canon-typical dead things the burial mounds, Fix-It of Sorts, Canon Divergence, Eventual WangXian, No Yīn Tiger Seal, Morally Gray WWX, Animals Eating People, WWX’s questionable choices, Morally conflicted LWJ, Oblivious WWX, WWX Creates a Sect | Yiling Wei, YLLZ WWX, Sect Leader WWX, LWJ & WQ have an Understanding) link in #6B Not sure if this counts because WWX is technically dead but also not?

~*~

4. Hello! I was wondering if anyone has seen any fanfic with canon wwx exchanging places with a wwx that had parents? With canon I just mean orphan and preferably without any good/nice yzy, I just really want to see everyone's reactions to how different he would be of he had parents and wwx's reaction to how his parents are but I haven't been able to find anything like that 😞

I would specially love if it's during the crsa but if it's not that's fine!

Thank you! @menimimimeni

in a dream, i was home by thelastdboy (M, 25k, WangXian, POV LWJ, Canon Divergence, Post-First Siege of the Burial Mounds, Time Travel Fix-It, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, Different First Meeting, Getting Together, Friends to Lovers, Sentient Burial Mounds, CSSR and WCZ Live, Families of Choice, Protective LWJ, Everybody Lives, Temporary Character Death, Grief/Mourning, Cloud Recesses Shenanigans, WWX Leaves the Yunmeng Jiang Sect, Golden Core Reveal, Fluff, Developing Relationship, Wen Remnants Live, WQ Lives, WN Lives, No Sunshot Campaign, BAMF WWX)

🔒the world wags on by justdoityoufucker (orphan_account) (T, 5k, WCZ & WWX, WCZ/LQR, Canon Divergence, Pre-Canon, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, Not Jiang Clan Friendly, Past Child Abuse, Canon Jiang Family Relationships, Parent-Child Relationship, Pre-Relationship, Not for Madam Yu fans)

~*~

5. Hi! Thanks for the work you do. I’ve found so many great fics! I’m in the mood for fics where Wei Wuxian comes back in his original body. Thank you 😊

Tripped at Every Step by brooklinegirl (E, 28k, WangXian)

Always Light My Way by cqlorphan (E, 27k, wangxian, Post-Canon, Getting Together, Friends With Benefits, to lovers, wherein dual cultivation may be counted as a benefit, Jealous WWX, a little bit, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Pining while fucking, angsty sex, Switch WangXian, Bottom LWJ, Service Top LWJ, Topping from the Bottom, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Coming Untouched, Dom/sub Undertones, the angsty sex happens in the beginning but they get past it dw, Oblivious LWJ, archer wwx, Smart WWX, Porn with Feelings, probably at least half of this fic is just that, Panic Attacks, Angst with a Happy Ending, Dual Cultivation)

the hidden source is the watchful heart by o_honeybees (E, 10k, WangXian, Post-Canon, Getting Together, Domesticity, Touch-Starved, Grief/Mourning, Misunderstandings, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Unresolved Sexual Tension,Eventual Smut, reflections on selfishness and selflessness)

This House of Ill Repute by Jo Lasalle (Jo_Lasalle) (M, 13k, WangXian, First Time, Post-Canon, Getting Together)

蓝色生死恋; a blue love (to live and to die for) by yiqie (M, 24k, WangXian, Post-Canon, wedding fic, Psychological Trauma, Empathy)

Life before you was tragic by covalentbonds (Not rated, 4k, wangxian, Fluff and Humor)

~*~

6. Hi!! I’m in the mood for fics where people believe A) Wei Wuxian actually birthed A-Yuan (when he didn’t) and B) fics where WWX is inhuman. I prefer fics set in the canon timeline (i’ll accept modern fics if it’s WWX as a zombie or something though lol). It’s been surprisingly hard to find good fics with these premises.

6A)

Dispersing Clouds by dreamingofcake (E, 283k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Genius WWX, Inventor WWX, Not Jiang Family Friendly, Abusive YZY, Canonical Child Abuse, Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn, Eventual Sex, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm (Background Character), Background Character Deaths, child deaths, Canon JC, Good Uncle LQR, Accidental Baby Acquisition, Cultivation Sect Politics, Homophobia, Heteronormativity, Feelings Realization, WWX is Not Oblivious) WWX makes a joke about giving birth to A-Yuan & a couple of Lan disciples believe it

Wei Wuxian, God of Fertility by tired (T, 19k, WangXian, Family Feels, Crack Treated Seriously, Crack, the juniors get REAL drunk, Gossip, POV Multiple, surprisingly not an mpreg fic, Kissing, Self-Esteem Issues, Discussion of Porn and Sex, Post-Canon, SOFT SOFT SOFT, married wangxian, Fluff and Humor, PSA: touching forehead ribbons gets you pregnant) focus on people believing Wei Wuxian gave birth to Yuan.

The Grandmaster of Demonic Reproduction by likeafox (E, 7k, WangXian, Kid Fic, not mpreg, but not-not mpreg?, Pregnancy Kink, Come play, LSZ deserves a sibling) focus on people believing Wei Wuxian gave birth to Yuan.

🔒Light of Stars (and the Destroyer) by Sanguis (T, 22k, WangXian, Legends, Arranged Marriage, Pining, Pining for your spouse, Adoption, Canon Divergence, Married Couple) has Lan Wangji believing Wei Wuxian when he says he birthed Yuan himself.

6B)

❤️ A Corpse Called By Name by jaemyun (Not rated, 60k, WangXian, Zombie Apocalypse, Angst, Horror, Zombie WWX, Eventual Happy Ending, yunmeng trio, Eventual WangXian, WWX is dad material even in death, Humor, YLLZ but make him dead, A Corpse Called By Name by jaemyun [Podfic] by Miss Appellation (Lizeth)) if the modern setting is okay then A Corpse Called By Name by jaemyun, featuring some angst and a very cute Zombie Wei Wuxian, it's amazing!

~*~

7. Hello! Are there any Wen Qing centered fics? Both modern and canon?

Meet you at a different place by tawaen (M, 57k, WQ & WN, WN & MXY & WQ, WQ & WWX & WN, Eventual WangXian, Ghost General WN, Ghost WQ, Canon Divergence, WQ comes back to haunt the cultivation world, Bad idea to kill the one person who didn’t kill anyone, Cultivation World Critical, Not JC Friendly, Wen Remnants Deserve Better, Sīsī Deserves Better, MXY Deserves Better, POV WQ) Post-siege Ghost!WQ hunts down the scattered remains of WWX's spirit

💖 With Surgical Precision by metisket (T, 20k, WQ & WN, WQ & WWX, WangXian, Time Travel, Families of Choice, sibling bonding through murder) WQ time travels & goes on a murder spree

The Needle and the Nail by littledust (E, 119k, ChengQing, WQ Lives, Canon Divergence, Slow Burn, Memory Loss, Canon-Typical Violence, Hurt/Comfort, Fix-It, Angst with a Happy Ending, Golden Core Reveal, First Time, Explicit Rating Earned 14 Chapters In Because Slow Burn)

🔒 Meat by captain_apostrophe (E, 5k, NMJ/WQ, Modern, PWP, Vaginal Sex, Voyeurism (Referenced), Hook-Up, himbo NMJ, horny WQ) set during a power outage

🔒 The Hand is a Voice (that can sing what the voice will not) by captain_apostrophe (E, 124k, NMJ/WQ, NHS & NMJ, WQ & WN, NHS & WN, Fix-It, Canon Divergence, Non-Canon Relationship, WQ Lives, and is awesome, it's not Beauty & The Beast okay, NHS Being A Little Shit, Marriage of Convenience, arguing as a love language, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Minor Original Character(s), Everybody Lives, Slow Burn, only a little bit of smut, Childbirth) in which the Wens find a new home

~*~

8. Hello~

It's me again, I just love this blog! I'm in the mood for fics where the Lan recognizes Wei Wuxian's geniuses and the Jiang doesn't, so the Lan plot to steal him or something. Could be arranged marriage or anything, really! I just really want the Lan appreciating his mind! @lostandmessedup

🧡 Stunted, Starving Juvenility by TomatenMark (E, 828k, WangXian, WIP, Fix-it of sorts, Talisman master WWX, Not JFM Friendly, Study Arc, Getting together, Fluff and Angst, Engagement)

Lessons relearned by Iamnotawriter (T, 44k, WangXian, LQR & WWX, Not Madam Yu Friendly, Time Travel Fix-It, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Inventor WWX, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, No Golden Core Transfer, YZY Bashing)

golden when the day met the night by glitteringmoonlight (Not rated, 95k, slow burn, sugar daddy LWJ, light, angst, fluff, developing relationship, eventual smut, WIP)

~*~

9. ITMF: fanfics that take Madam Yu's abuse toward Wei Wuxian seriously, no Jiang Yanli bashing and without Wei Wuxian being mad immediately but instead needing time to realize that what happened was wrong. Thank you!!!!! :D

All Things Belong by kuroi_atropos (M, 93k, WRH & WWX, WangXian, WN & WWX, WWX is a Wen, Abuse, Whipping, Manipulations, Warning: WRH, Smart WWX, Possessive Behavior, Warning: JGS, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Past Rape/Non-con, Society Level Victim Blaming, Victim Blaming) If they don't mind an AU for 9, the very recently completed All Things Belong fits the request nearly perfectly.

~*~

10. hii could u recommend some office aus, slightly longer and complete ones?

thank you

Work-Life Balance is Not A Thing by catbrainedschemes (E, 17k, WangXian, Modern AU, Workplace Relationship, Romantic Comedy, Idiots in Love, Oblivious WWX, Oblivious LWJ, Sexual Tension, Eventual Smut, but not that eventual, Pining, Dirty Talk)

🔒WangXian Office AU: What's the Tea... ? by Blackbeads461, Ladycroft4evr (M, 23k, WangXian, Modern Era - no cultivation, CEO WWX, Secretary LWJ, Office Romance, Rollercoaster ride of new love and angst and pining, office gossip, OYZZ is So Done, SS Bashing, more like pulling his leg, Awesome WQ, NHS is a Little Shit, no nsfw in this work but it is there in the next ones)

whether i’m gonna flip you off or pull you into the closet, i haven’t decided yet by livinginaworldofnoise (G, 14k, WangXian, Modern AU, Epistolary, Workplace Relationship, hostile coworkers to lovers who have not disclosed their relationship to hr, Human Resources, hr director!lwj, unknown corporate job!wwx, ft the junior squad as interns, told entirely thru emails and slack messages, Crack, Social Media, if you consider slack social media which is highly questionable, Enemies to Lovers)

~*~

11. hi!! for the itmf, can i get anything where yllz!wwx get’s transported to the 13 years he’s dead (not him coming back to life, but specifically yllz!wwx being back in a world where he’s dead). bonus points if he’s been redeemed already. this may be weird and overly specific but i figured i’d try T_T

~*~

12. ITMF: a fic where people found out it was LWJ who done corrupting. Not WWX

Bonus if the one that found out is LQR

Prefer if it was a humorous fic. But im okay if its not. Thanks!

Dispersing Clouds by dreamingofcake (E, 283k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Genius WWX, Inventor WWX, Not Jiang Family Friendly, Abusive YZY, Canonical Child Abuse, Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn, Eventual Sex, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm (Background Character), Background Character Deaths, child deaths, Canon JC, Good Uncle LQR, Accidental Baby Acquisition, Cultivation Sect Politics, Homophobia, Heteronormativity, Feelings Realization, WWX is Not Oblivious) (link in 6A) assuming they mean "shameless behavior" by "corrupting," Chapter 45 onward of Dispersing Clouds

🔒Something is wrong with A-Zhan! by HeloSoph (M, 15k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Time Travel Fix-It, Sort Of, Dark LWJ, Morally Gray WWX, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, WWX Isn't Adopted by the Jiangs, WWX is a Lan, WangXian Get a Happy Ending, JC Bashing, Smitten LWJ, Possessive LWJ, Engaged WangXian, Blood and Violence, a lot of people die, LQR Metaphorically Qi-Deviates, because of, Shameless LWJ, LQR Tries, to fit into the following tag, Good Uncle LQR, Semi-Public Sex, or at least wangxian's version of it, Scheming NHS, POV NHS) would also work but note that it starts off very lightheartedly and then gets very dark in chapter 4.

~*~

13. heyyy for the next itmf can i request something lsz-centric that shows his relationship with wwx and/or lwj? Growing up with them or when he's already grown up, anything works. Preferably canonverse, but I can also do aus. Thank you!!!

your name, safe in their mouth by astrolesbian (G, 10k, LSZ & WWX, WangXian, Father-Son Relationship, Injury, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Canon, More aligned with CQL than novel canon, Miscommunication, Eventual Positive Communication, Trying to be a family, how to tell your dad you want him to be your dad in 6 easy steps!)

Gathered Herbs & Sweet Grasses by hansbekhart (Not Rated, 19k, LSZ & LWJ, WangXian, dad wangji, LWJ’s Questionable Parenting Skills, Grief/Mourning, Recovery, Injury Recovery, Hopeful Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Gathered Herbs & Sweet Grasses [podfic] by someplacelikebolivia)

Inquiry by incendir (G, 10k, LSZ & LWJ, WangXian)

🔒 Not Yet (There As Needed) by sunrise_and_death (T, 13k, LSZ & WWX, JL & WWX, JL & LSZ, WangXian, Post-Canon, Family Feels, Family Bonding, POV LSZ, This Fic Has Everything, even more yearning, WWX & LSZ figuring out wtf their relationship is, Dramatic Revelations)

let the yoke fall from our shoulders by occultings (microcomets) (G, LSZ & LWJ, LSZ & WWX, wangxian, LWJ & LSZ & WWX, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Character Study, Mentions of Canonical Character Death, Grief/Mourning, Gusu Lan Juniors Dynamics, let capricorns cathart agenda, Happy Ending, Family Feels, Established Relationship)

to the act of making noise by words-writ-in-starlight (WordsWritInStarlight) (G, 19k, LSZ & LWJ, LSZ & WWX, WangXian, Grief/Mourning, Father-Son Relationship, inquiry, LSZ is the best of boys and I will not hear debate, Music, Angst, Fluff and Angst, Found Family, [Podfic] to the act of making noise by Ceewelsh, flamingwell, kisahawklin, Rionaa)

~*~

14. It's spook month and that means our fave disaster necromancer birthday!! How about some recs of everyone's favorite fics celebrating Wwx's birthday? Any and all the birthday fics!!!

when I look over my shoulder by cafecliche (T, 10k, WangXian, Modern AU, exorcist LWJ, medium wwx, vague The Conjuring AU, some horror elements, Pre-Relationship, Mutual Pining, Hurt/Comfort)

On a night just like this one ... by DizziDreams (G, 3k, WangXian, WWX & The Juniors, The Junior Quartet, Ghost Stories, Comedy)

autumn leaves falling down like pieces into place by gusucloudbunny (dykebytrade) (G, 5k, WangXian, Modern AU, Autumn, Halloween, Fluff, Getting Together, Friends to Lovers, Haunted Houses, Pouty baby lwj, Mutual Pining)

💖 Regrets by antebunny (G, 37k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Miscommunication, Misunderstandings, Time Travel, Fix-It, Temporary Character Death, Angst, Explicit Descriptions of Love, and other squishy feelings, Angst with a Happy Ending)

an hour of sunshine by astrolesbian (G, 2k, WangXian, Modern AU, Love Confessions, First Kiss, Mindless Fluff, halloween party)

In love with a ghost by Bookish_penguin (T, 14k, WangXian, Fluff, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, junior shenanigans, Necromancy, Talking to Ghosts, Or in general spooky things, Post-Canon, references to death, where wwx is an expert on all things dead and dusted, because he’s one of them too, big yiling laozu vibes, wwx can be kinda creepy sometimes but everyone still loves him)

why'd the chicken jump over the fence by yellowcarnations (G, 1k, WangXian, Modern AU, Fluff, Drunk LWJ)

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15. Itmf a fic where wwx adopts himself a younger sibling oc (basically he's being a parent but age gap between them isn't wide enough) like an orphaned shidi, street kid, or child of Jiang servant. And wwx has to provide for them out of his own stipend (which madam yu insists on remaining the amount for 1 person). How would that change plot? Distance him from Jiang sibs cause he eats with sib instead jaings? Better behaved at leactures or doesn't attend? Work hard & creative to care for them

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16. Itmf wwx and lz ghost marry while one is dead/believed to be dead and the other is later resurrected. Esp if it's while wwx is dead and his name is cleared prior to or after the marriage, but while he's still dead. And how people react to their relationship/lz's affections because of this

Ghost Wedding by nirejseki (G, 4k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Ghost wedding, Introspection, Crack Treated Seriously, mostly seriously anyway, Good Uncle LQR)

lovers be lost (but love shall not) by la_muerta (T, 13k, WangXian, Arranged Marriage, 1910s, Case Fic, Ghosts, Happy Ending, Background Relationships, Ghost Marriage)

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17. Itmf any fics where wwx's name is cleared while he is dead/believed to be dead

🔒Confusion by Vrishchika (Not rated, 4k, wangxian, time travel)

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