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whambamsami · 2 months ago

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private show

summary: your shitty boyfriend wants to go to a strip club for his birthday. one of the dancers is desperate to give you the attention you deserve. stripper!bucky pt.1

pt.2 pt.3

warnings: 18+, adult themes, eventual smut, language, alcohol, let me know if i miss anything!

note: not proofread, so sorry if there's any errors/plot holes! let me know if there's anything i should fix <3

You didn’t want to be here.

Not in the dimly lit, velvet-drenched VIP lounge of a high-end strip club your boyfriend had insisted on for his birthday. Not in the too-tight dress he told you to wear. Not beside him while he ogled other women like you weren’t even there.

“Loosen up,” Nick said, draping his arm around you, with that smile that had won you over months ago, but now just rubbed you the wrong way. “It’s my birthday party.”

You’d smiled too. Barely. Enough to keep the peace.

He’d begged for this, told you only an insecure woman wouldn’t let him go on his birthday. Hell, he’d even wanted you to tag along.

You thought he wanted you to come with him and his belligerent friends to see that it wasn’t all that bad, to make you more comfortable.

But you were starting to think he got off on making you watch.

He was generous enough to at least take you to a club that let both genders dance alike, and it was almost overwhelming, seeing men and women’s bodies, some fully exposed, some adorning tiny leather getups, gyrating on stage.

Your boyfriend, the perfect gentleman.

And he wonders why you won’t take him home to meet your parents.

His friends are all practically howling at a woman onstage, pushing your boyfriend up to get closer to her. She’s wearing nipple pasties, crotchless panties, a pair of stilettos that have you fearing for her ankles, and a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes.

Not that Nick would notice. He never noticed that kind of thing when it came to women. That, or he didn’t care.

“You won’t mind if I get a private dance, will you, babe?”

You wanted to feel angry at him. For him to see just how fucked this entire situation was. You should be feeling more.

But you just felt disgust. He made your skin crawl. You couldn’t give a shit about what he did here. He’d lost you the second he suggested this.

So you nod tightly. An apology flashes in the woman’s eyes as she slinks off the stage next to him.

You can’t be mad at her. It’s just business.

And honestly, the fact that someone else would be filling in for you tonight, pretending to derive any pleasure from whatever Nick planned on doing, was a relief. You weren’t sure you would have it in you.

Not wanting to hear what his pitiful friends had to say about the situation you now found yourself in, you made a break for the bar, flagging down a topless bartender and politely asking for one of the craft cocktails.

Hey, at least you could get something out of tonight.

The bartender returned with your cocktail in hand. On the house, he’d said. You wished he was just being friendly, but the look in his eyes told you what this really was.

Pity.

Whatever. The drink was good. Strong. Exactly what you needed to dull your senses a little, to get your mind off how you even ended up in this club in the first place.

As you sipped, admittedly a bit faster than you should, the music shifted- bass-heavy and seductive.

The next performer was about to take the stage.

You turned to face the velvet curtains that hid whoever was up next. Maybe you could pick up a few things, some tips that you could bring to your next relationship.

Your next boyfriend would be more appreciative, you promised yourself.

Better in bed, too.

The second you saw him, though, everything else blurred.

Huh. A male performer.

All’s fair, right?

Tall. Broad-shouldered. Dark stubble shadowing a wicked mouth. Ice-blue eyes that swept the room with slow, calculated confidence. His body was lethal, dressed in nothing but black dress pants and a white button-down-half-unbuttoned, sleeves rolled, like sin in motion.

Your breath caught.

The performer didn’t smile. Not at first.

But you swear he made eye contact with you.

And when he did, he flashed his canines. Just for a second. Like he knew every dirty thought that was flashing in your head. Like he knew something you didn’t.

The lights dim. The music gets louder. Or maybe everything else gets quieter, you’re not sure.

And suddenly, he’s all you could see.

He walks onto the stage like he’s stalking prey-calm, confident, dangerous. Not a trace of performance in his stride. He doesn’t play it for laughs or gimmicks. He doesn’t wink. He hunts.

The music pulses dark and slow. He unbuttons his shirt one button at a time, each flick of fabric revealing warm, taut muscle, tattoos, scars, shadows that make your mouth dry.

He glances down-just once-and finds your eyes again in the dark.

You squeeze your thighs together, shift again, try to look anywhere else-but it’s no use. He knows what he’s doing. He knows he’s got you.

He unzips his pants. Just an inch. Just enough to make your exhale stutter.

And the second you breathe out, his tongue drags across his bottom lip.

You’re going to combust.

“There you are!”

You’re snapped out of whatever spell he had you under.

Your boyfriend returned from his little dance, wearing a smile that was a little too wide. Nick and his friends surrounded you at the bar, cutting off what you could see of the performance, much to your disappointment. You didn’t even care when you saw him whispering excitedly to his buddies, when you watched them pat him on the back like he’d won some kind of game, when their eyes would dart over to you like you didn’t know any better.

Like you were stupid.

You steal a glance at the stage to try and catch the end of the man’s performance, but all you see is the swish of curtains closing as he disappears backstage.

Could this night get any worse?

As if the bartender could read your mind, he appeared again, placing what appeared to be a very expensive bottle of chilled champagne in front of you.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, sir, I didn’t order-”

“On the house.” he stated simply, as if you should have known. The little gold name tag that rested low on his waistband told you his name was Sam.

God, at least the service here was great.

Nick and his friends hooted and hollered, reaching for the bottle, excited to grab a glass, but Sam stopped them, pulling the bottle just far enough out of reach.

“Sorry, boys, but I’m under strict instructions that this is for the lady only. No sharing.”

Your boyfriend’s lips pursed.

“What, did somebody roofie that or something? Babe, you’re not drinking that. I don’t trust it.” and to solidify his point, he wrapped his arm around you. His sweaty, gross arm.

You hated that he still felt like he could touch you like this.

“Actually, sir, that bottle is for her to take to one of the private rooms. This doesn’t happen often, but she’s been asked to join one of our dancers.”

Your stomach dipped.

The champagne sparkled in the light, a little ribbon of condensation sliding down the glass like it knew how flustered you felt.

“She’s been… what?” Nick scoffed, voice rising with laughter he clearly didn’t feel. “Asked to join a dancer?”

Sam nodded, unbothered. You could have sworn you saw a glimpse of a smile on his face, like he was secretly enjoying this.

“That’s right. Bucky requested her personally.” You could have sworn you saw a glimpse of a smile on his face, like he was secretly enjoying this. “Very rare, especially for him. I’d take it as a compliment.”

Nick scoffed again, turning to you like it was some kind of joke.

“You’re not seriously considering that, are you?”

You blinked. Slowly.

Then you looked down at his arm around your waist-the one that had gotten too heavy, too tight, too possessive over time-and peeled it off like it burned.

“You got a dance too, right?” you said evenly, reaching for the neck of the bottle, “At least mine is free.”

Nick’s friends laughed awkwardly. He didn’t.

“He’s probably just trying to upsell you some bullshit champagne fantasy. It’s a trick.”

Sam snorted as he grabbed two champagne flutes.

“Yeah, well. If it is, it’s working.”

Nick reached for your waist, and for once, you were thankful that he was so fucking sweaty all the time, because it let you slip out of his grip.

“You don’t know what kind of guy he is.”

That made you laugh. It sounded more bitter than you’d ever heard it.

“He’s a stripper, Nick. Not exactly looking for Prince Charming right now. But whatever kind of guy he is, it looks like he’s interested in treating me a bit better than you are.”

Then you turned, grabbed the bottle, and followed Sam toward the back, heart hammering, adrenaline singing through your veins.

You didn’t know what was waiting for you behind the curtain.

But whatever it was?

It had to be better than this.

#bucky barnes #bucky barns fanfiction #bucky barns imagine #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes smut #james bucky buchanan barnes #the winter soldier #stripper!bucky

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whisperedmeg · 10 days ago

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SOFT ANIMAL ―.✦ s.r. soft animal series ∘ part xiii

pairing: spencer reid x fem!nurse!reader

summary: spencer comes in from the rain, soaking wet and holding soup and endless apologies. after everything, love arrives as quiet belonging — a lazy day, a soft question, a future that happens not all at once, but surely.

genre: hurt/comfort, FLUFFFF, smut | w/c: 3k

tags/warnings: post-prison spencer, aftermath of the fight from pt 12 (picks up exactly where it left off), then a time jump (3 months), morning sex (p in v), cuties on their anniversary, happy happy ending, inspired by the poem “wild geese” by mary oliver, tbh not much plot after the time jump but i just wanted it to feel like a soft cushy landing after all the hard stuff

a/n: the final part of the soft animal series is here and I truly cannot believe I just typed out those words. see the end for my full author’s note this time 🫶🏼

series masterlist

The sky was dark before I heard the knock.

Not his key in our door — a knock. I felt that knock in my spine.

I dropped my phone on the couch beside me in the middle of drafting a long-winded text and bounded towards the door. I opened it, and there he was. Spencer. Rain-damp hair curling at the edges. Dark circles under his eyes. A wilted paper bag in one hand, clothes dripping as if he’d been walking in the storm sans umbrella for hours — and maybe he had been.

“Hey,” he said, voice rough.

“You knocked.”

“I… I thought I should.”

His eyes flicked toward the floor, like he wasn’t sure if he’d be let in. Like he’d shown up prepared to leave again. I didn’t move.

“I brought you soup. And tea. And mini M&Ms. I wasn’t sure what you’d be in the mood for.”

I sighed and stepped aside, and he walked in quietly.

He put the bag down and turned. “I thought I was doing the right thing. Leaving. You deserve so much better than someone like me dragging you down.”

I swallowed. “You don’t get to decide what I deserve, Spencer. That’s up to me.”

His voice cracked. “I know. I just… I thought I was protecting you.”

“I know that’s what you thought, but you weren’t. You were protecting yourself from the idea that someone might love you, even like this.”

He stared at me.

“I do, you know,” I said. “Love you. Even like this. Especially like this.”

He blinked, and the air between us trembled with everything he wasn’t saying. That he hadn’t believed it. That maybe, still, part of him didn’t.

He stayed quiet for a long beat before responding. “What I said to you… that night. Accusing you of wanting to play nurse and fix me — that wasn’t fair. I know you were coming from a good place, because you love me and want me to be okay. I know you don’t see me as a patient. It was wrong of me to say that.” He paused and steadied himself before continuing. “And calling you the woman I’m sleeping with…” He swallowed, jaw tight. “That was cruel. And reductive. And I knew it the second it came out of my mouth.”

I stood still.

“I was angry and ashamed and spiraling,” he said. “But none of that excuses saying something that small about someone I love more than anything.”

My breath caught.

His voice was raw now, stripped down to the bone. “And that’s not how I see you. You’re not a warm body in my bed. You’re… you,” he said. “You’re the person who made my life feel like it was worth living again. Who taught me how to breathe after I forgot how. You’re not even just my girlfriend — you’re my partner. My future. You’re my entire world, honestly. I love you, and I’ve never, ever seen you like that. I can’t take back the fact that I said it, but I’m so unbelievably sorry that I did.”

Tears pricked the backs of my eyes. I swallowed. “I didn’t mean to push you so hard.”

“I know.” He stepped forward, slowly, then added, quietly, “But you were right to push me. I do need help, and I am scared.”

“I know, Spence.” My voice broke, and he reached up instinctively, brushing his thumb along my cheek like muscle memory.

“I don’t want to lose you. I don’t actually think we aren’t ready for this. I don’t actually want to break up,” he said quietly.

“I was never going to let that happen anyways. When you knocked, I was halfway through drafting a text to Penelope asking her to hack your phone’s GPS so I could come confront you, wherever you’ve been hiding.”

He let out a quiet sound almost resembling a laugh and closed the remaining distance between us, pulling me in. We stood in the kitchen, his rain-drenched clothes soaking mine as he held me, his arms around my waist, my face in his shoulder.

“I am so sorry,” he whispered. “I choose you. Even when I’m a mess. Even when I’m not okay.”

“I choose you too,” I whispered back. “Every version.”

”I missed you every second,” he murmured. “JJ and Will’s couch might’ve permanently realigned my spine into an S-shape.”

I huffed out a breath of laughter and buried my face deeper against his skin. “I missed you too. Every single second.”

He pulled back to look at me, eyes soft and finally looking like his own again. Then, tentatively, achingly slowly, he began to lean in. I tangled my fingers in his wet curls, pulled him down the rest of the way, and kissed him, soft and true.

There’s no tidy solution to trauma or grief. No final answer you can circle in ink and get a gold star for. But this was how we found our way back: with honest conversation and rain-soaked embraces.

Later, in bed, skin still warm from where we’d found each other again, he traced numbers and shapes along the bare curves of my body. Fibonacci spirals. Möbius strips. All the patterns that don’t quite make sense until you stand back far enough.

“I’m going to try therapy,” he said quietly. “Not just because you asked, but because I want to. I think I need to.”

I kissed his forehead, his temple, the corner of his mouth. “I’m proud of you.”

He looked at me then — really looked — before speaking again. “And I think I want to spend the rest of my life figuring out how to be with you forever.”

Tears burned, but I smiled. “I’d like that. A lot.”

I let myself imagine our future: slow mornings, stupid arguments, soft reconciliations, nights spent knowing his body better than my own, and all the quiet moments in between. Not perfect, but perfectly ours.

—

3 months later:

Rain fell softly outside, a quiet insistence — not mournful, not loud, just steady. Like something true repeating itself. It sounded the way belonging feels — that was the second thing I thought of when I woke up. The first was Spencer. It was always Spencer. My Spencer.

He was curled beside me, one arm slung over the blanket we shared, hair damp with sweat at the temple, breath slow and even. His limbs were gathered close, body curved toward the center like a sleeping cat in a patch of light — a soft animal. I watched the rise and fall of his shoulders and let the weight of the moment settle.

Today marked one year since the night he called me. That first night after his release, when he asked — quietly, hopefully — if I’d come see him. We hadn’t been anything official then, not in name. But we’d already been something real. Spencer and I had never really settled on a proper anniversary, but that night always made the most sense in my mind. It was the beginning of the life we had now built together.

It had been a few months since the worst of it — the fight and distance that felt like the beginning of the end. Since then, things had softened. Spencer was teaching a little more and traveling with the BAU a little less, and he’d started therapy, quietly but consistently. The weight he carried began to lighten and shift in ways I could feel more than I could see. And every few sessions, I joined him. It was good for us — we’d learned how to argue better. How to step away and come back. How to hurt each other less and heal each other more.

Beside me, I listened to Spencer breathe. I didn’t want to move — not yet. The air was cool, the light was golden, and Spencer — safe and warm and mine — had that expression he only wore in sleep. A kind of innocence, but deeper. Like trust. Like a peace, hard-won.

I felt a soft ache in my thighs, ghosted reminders of last night’s closeness — hands, mouths, bodies. He stirred with a sigh, lashes fluttering, mouth twitching in a sleep-dumb smile. “Hey,” he mumbled in that gravelly morning voice I adored so much.

“Hi.” I shifted closer and pressed a kiss to his cheek. He hummed.

We didn’t say anything else for a while. There was no need. Our legs tangled like instinct, and I tucked my head beneath his chin while his hand found the curve of my waist. The window blurred with rain. A few birds called in the distance. And the world, impossibly, kept going.

His hand slid up beneath the hem of the t-shirt I wore — his t-shirt, the one with FBI Academy across the chest in faded screen print, the same one I’d worn that very first night — fingers dragging slowly along the bare skin of my thigh. A quiet question.

I turned to face him fully, brushing the hair back from his forehead, and nodded.

We didn’t rush. There was no urgency, no script. Just the slow unfurling of touch, of breath, of want. His mouth found mine with reverence, and the heat that bloomed between us was steady and sure.

He undressed me like he was unwrapping something fragile, not because I’d break, but because he wanted to savor it. I did the same. He whispered my name like it was the only word he knew. I kissed the scar on his palm, the one I’d first seen when he was still learning how to sleep with the lights off.

We moved together like we’d done it a hundred times, because we had. But this time felt different — softer, deeper, threaded through with memory and meaning.

He always touched me like he was still a little in awe that he was allowed to. Like every pass of his hands over my skin was both permission and prayer. His hand cradled my hip as he slid inside me, and we both stilled for a moment �� just breathing, just being. His forehead rested against mine as we started to move, lazy and deep, like we had all the time in the world. Like we’d made it, finally, to the soft middle of our story.

I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and pulled him closer, letting my legs fall open around him. Our bodies moved together like a tide, steady and slow. Every rock of his hips made my breath catch, made my hands grasp for more.

He kept whispering things — my name, yes, but also small, ridiculous things that made me smile or laugh and then moan or gasp. “Still the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” and “I miss you even while I’m inside you, like I can never get enough,” and “I think my IQ drops at least twenty points when you do that,” and “I never want this to end.” His voice broke on that last one, and I kissed it back together.

When I came, it was with a soft cry against his shoulder, my hands buried in his hair, my whole body arching up to meet his. He followed seconds later, gasping my name like it was the only word he remembered, burying himself deep as he spilled inside me.

Afterwards, we didn’t move for a while. Our legs tangled, our chests rising together, our skin slick with sweat and love and everything we hadn’t needed to say out loud. He pressed a kiss just under my jaw and I held him tighter, just because I could.

“I love you,” he murmured, eyes closed.

I kissed his shoulder. “And I love you.”

—

After we finally pulled ourselves out of bed and shared a shower, he wrapped a towel around his waist, grabbed a book, and settled back against the headboard. His thumb dragged across the page as he read. I rested my cheek on his shoulder.

Eventually, I asked for a random fact to break up the silence.

“Sloths,” he said immediately without even looking up, “can hold their breath longer than dolphins. Up to forty minutes.”

I snorted. “Liar.”

“It’s true.” He looked over, eyes bright. “They slow their heart rate so much they barely use oxygen.”

“Survival through stillness,” I said quietly.

He nodded. “It’s efficient.”

But I didn’t see it as only efficiency. I thought about stillness as resistance. As hope. As the wild, quiet insistence that you deserve to be here — even if you move slowly, even if it’s hard.

—

The kitchen smelled like citrus and coffee. I wore his Caltech hoodie, sleeves swallowing my hands, and he handed me a mug with both palms like it was something sacred. In a way, it was.

Breakfast was slow. Toast. Fruit. A hard-boiled egg that refused to peel properly. He cursed under his breath and I pretended not to laugh until he caught me holding it in. His expression — affronted and mildly betrayed — made me want to climb onto his lap and kiss him right there at the table with jam still on my fingers.

He refilled my coffee without being asked. I handed him half my toast, and he gave me some of his grapes. We bumped knees under the table.

Later, he leaned against the counter while I sliced apples and tried to sneak one, only to flinch back when I playfully raised the knife in faux-threat.

“You’re ruthless,” he said, half-smiling.

“You tried to steal from the chef,” I replied, laying my weapon down.

He pulled me in by the hips and kissed my temple. “Happy anniversary, by the way.”

I looked up. “You remembered?”

“You know I remember everything,” he teased. “But even if I didn’t, I’d always remember that night.”

—

The rest of the day passed in pieces. Brushing our teeth together. Crosswords on the living room floor. A kiss pressed behind my ear when he thought I was dozing. I noticed him watching me like he still couldn’t believe this was real — that we were.

At one point, he touched my ankle under the blanket on the couch and said, “Do you think we’ll ever mess this up?”

I looked at him for a long time, then shifted until I was leaning against him.

“In some small, human way, maybe. But not in the ways we can’t come back from. We’ll always find our way back to each other, I know that much for certain.”

He leaned his forehead to mine. “You make it easier.”

“You make it worth it.”

He didn’t answer — just cradled my chin between his fingers and kissed me softly, slowly. Like we had time. Like we always would.

—

Later, while he diced carrots and celery and onion with absurd precision for the bolognese sauce we were making for dinner (Rossi’s recipe, of course), I leaned against the counter and watched his hands. And for just a moment, I remembered the version of him I first met — the one who flinched at loud noises and slept facing the door. The one who told me he didn’t need to be fixed, just carried.

He still wasn’t totally okay, but he was healing. And I got to witness it. I got to love him through it.

I stole a carrot from the cutting board, and he swatted my hand.

“You’re not as stealthy as you think.”

“Oh, I’m exactly as stealthy as I think.”

He said my name like it was a full sentence, and I said his back. We grinned at each other like idiots.

Once we finally stopped distracting each other long enough to finish cooking dinner, we ate with our legs touching under the table. He told me about a new academic journal he was reading. I told him about a coworker who made me laugh. He offered to do the dishes, then pulled me along to sit on the counter while he did.

I watched him with a full chest.

This life — soft, boring, beautiful — was one we built together. And it didn’t scare either of us anymore.

—

Dusk settled in cool and forgiving. The rain thinned a bit, so we cracked a window and let the breeze in. I lit a few candles. He curled behind me on the couch, tracing patterns on my back — sometimes spirals, sometimes words, sometimes nothing particular at all.

His voice was low. “Feels like it’s been longer, doesn’t it?”

I nodded. “In the best way.”

“Sometimes I can still picture you in the doorway that night,” he murmured. “The way you looked at me before falling into my arms. I think I knew right then and there that you were it for me.”

I leaned back into him. “I think I knew it, too.”

Outside, the sky darkened into bruised violet and deep indigo. The familiar sound of the calls of wild geese moving in formation echoed through the breeze — sharp and certain. The kind of movement you don’t question.

We didn’t talk about the past. We didn’t need to. It was all there in the shape of him beside me, in the way his body curved towards mine like I was his home.

And when he shifted to grab another blanket, I saw it — the unmistakable shape of a ring box outlined in the pocket of his sweatpants. Not quite hidden, but not flaunted, either. Just there, ready, waiting for the right moment. He didn’t seem to realize I’d noticed it. Just smiled, kissed my temple, and curled around me on the couch again like it was any other night. My heart skipped a beat, and I didn’t say a word. I didn’t need to. But I knew.

Some promises arrive quiet and certain: like rain at the window, like breath in the dark. Like a love real enough to wear on your finger.

Together, we were exactly who we needed to be — soft animals, learning how to love what we loved.

the end.

ᝰ.ᐟ

author’s note: do you guys forgive me for part 12 now? lol. but on the real, I don’t even know what to say for this one. part 13, the end of the soft animal series, now belongs to you 🫶🏼. to anyone who came along this ride with me — I couldn’t be more thankful.

post-reading soft animal manifesto can be found here!

PSA: likes do very little for promoting posts on tumblr! if you'd like to support a fic, please reblog!

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heideez · 4 months ago

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man i just love the sea grunkles 😭😭🫶🫶

a few (many) frequently written elements that i love and wanna talk about bc i feel like yapping:

- ford’s health anxiety. when he worries about stan’s health to a ridiculous degree, or oscillates between “he can have whatever he wants his mind got erased!! he saved the world!!” and “oh my god he’s going to die this man is in such poor health i need to concoct 357 potions to regrow his teeth and fix his eyes and—”

- stan reintroducing ford to human food. yes king you throw those fucking nutrient pills overboard! especially love when ford rediscovers his love for sweet things. no way this man was not malnourished coming thru the portal.

- looking identical again. the previous two often play into this with stan being more active/eating better and losing weight, ford actually eating and gaining some, plus them being back together + in sync just makes them look more similar + honestly ten years younger.

- mutual guilt. both of them are haunted by their past mistakes, but constantly dismiss the other’s. they both blame themselves for their mess of a history and are constantly trying to reassure their twin. “it was my fault.” “no, it was My fault!”

-mutual anxiety over the other’s safety. especially after ford learns more about stan’s past. they are determined to die of simultaneous heart attacks and will not hear it any other way (they both secretly think they’ll die first but ford is blatantly wrong and in denial)

- them acting like kids again/behaving childishly. they both deserve this, plus they return to elements of their dynamic that existed the last time it was good, which would have been as teens.

-petty fights. both of these men are deeply flawed. let them argue over shit that does not matter and then instantly regret it because they’ve lost Too Much Time.

- both being inept with modern technology. bonus points if ford takes the phone like “ill handle this” and fails to handle it. extra bonus points if fiddleford navigates it easily.

- PLATONIC (!!!!!!!) physical touch/cuddles. bonus points if feral ford is involved here. but i just love it in general because i feel like that’s their love language in a way. wether it’s playful shoves/noogies or freaking out and needing to be close to each other after nightmares, across the board it’s one of my favorite things with them.

- stan demonstrating his accrued science knowledge but Choosing not to use the calculations side of it because he hates it and it reminds him of the portal work (unless ford asks very nicely or gives him the puppy dog eyes)

- stan being unable to say no to ford. not like literally unable but he’s Very easily guilted and again. the puppy dog/sad wet bird eyes. bonus points if stan uses similar tactics to get ford to do basic self care!

anyway expect some sea grunkles content from me soon because they live in my brain. and let me know if you have any more tropes you love with them, because i always want to hear people’s yap/thoughts on them and their dynamic.

(this is all 10000% and strictly platonic. do NOT tag as ship or i will instantly block you. hate that i have to say this.)

#gravity falls #stan pines #ford pines #stanley pines #stanford pines #sea grunks #sea grunkles #stan o war ii

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hoshinasblade · 5 months ago

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What you think Soshiro would do if he found out his gf was insecure about her stretch marks?

this is one of the most recent asks so thank u anon for sending!! im still in the process of going over my posts and editing some stuff (mostly changing my tags lol) and answering asks and putting them on queue. i just really like this one so im posting now (might have some typos as im in my phone hoho). hope u guys like it 🥰

"i don't know," you said as you try to bury your face on the big mug of beer you are drinking. "i haven't even been naked around him, like ever." the last sentence was almost a whisper, as if you were saying it to yourself more than confessing it to your nosy friend.

"aren't you guys dating for months now?" you were expecting this response, sure, but you don't think you were prepared for an answer at all. "honestly girl, your man is like, really hot," your friend picked up a french fry from the plate in front of you and took a bite before speaking again. "if that was me, i would be naked with him 25 hours a day."

"we only have 24 hours a day," you reminder her.

"exactly," she winked at you in response.

you did not want to admit it but your friend, a college batchmate from way back, was not entirely wrong. landing a guy like vice-captain hoshina soshiro was never in your bingo card, and truthfully, had it been another girl that he chose to date, you are pretty sure he would be getting some action.

yes, action meaning naked time.

sex.

it was not that you are a prude, or worse, a conservative who thinks that women are ought to be virgins otherwise they are worthless. and it wasn't also that you haven't done some things with your boyfriend hoshina as well, considering how you are very much aware how he's so good with his hands. no, the issue is that except for that one time during your fourth month together when it almost happened, you have not gone all the way with hoshina at all.

you simply attributed it to him being a gentleman, but hoshina did not dare ask when you stopped him that one time. but you should have known that at some point, he is going to want to know why it seems you don't want to be intimate with him.

"is it me?" he asked, trying to hide the slight hurt from his face. "i don't have bad breath, do i?"

count on hoshina to crack a joke during such a serious situation. he just got home from his scheduled weekend duty that night, and although claiming that he's exhausted from work, hoshina was apparently not tired enough. so a chaste peck on your lips turned to a heated makeout session that turned to him taking his shirt off.

he was kissing the soft skin down your neck towards your chest when you froze just as he was about to take your blouse off.

"come on, talk to me." hoshina's voice was gentle, and an annoying voice inside your head murmured something along the lines of how he deserves someone better, with how you're acting right now. "hey, it's okay if you don't want to talk about it. i don't mind. but if something's wrong, i'd prefer if i know about it."

you sighed. hoshina doesn't necessarily deserve someone better; he just deserves the truth.

instead of telling the truth, you showed it to him.

as soon your top was off, your fingers started tracing the thin, white lines on the skin near your ribs. these lines look like thread that stretch to your sides. you even have some close to your inner arms. you were avoiding hoshina's eyes when you pointed out how these stretch marks extend until your hips.

"i think i just feel weird about other people seeing it," you said. "i mean, they don't look pretty."

now that you've said your piece, you felt a bit relieved. in reality you know it sounds so shallow, superficial even. but as a girl - as a woman - you were no stranger to other people's expectations of how you should physically look. in the end, perhaps you just did not want to disappoint hoshina by showing him just how imperfect you are.

you were surprised when hoshina unbuckled his belt and began undoing the buttons of his pants. mouth agape, you just did not foresee this reaction.

"w-what are you doing?"

hoshina stripped until he was only on his boxers. stretching one of his legs out in front of you, his hand slowly lifted the hem of his underwear until you can see the flesh of his upper thighs.

"oh i have those too," he said, showing you white, indented streaks up to his hips. "i think you get them when you grow, i'm not hundred percent sure."

hoshina's forefinger continued trailing on his own skin. "it's okay if you don't think they're pretty, you know. not everything has to be beautiful. what you have to remember is that having stuff like this, is completely normal."

you should have known because it was after all the reason you love him - everyone might admire vice-captain hoshina soshiro mainly because of his leadership skills and out-of-this-world physique, you fell for him because he's the most reasonable and kind man you have ever met.

"i love you, you know that right?" you asked.

hoshina could only chuckle. "and all these time i was worrying you didn't want to be naked with me because you were hiding a tattoo of narumi's face somewhere there."

it was your turn to laugh. hoshina grabbed one of your hands, caressing it. "hey look, it's just skin, okay? it's just skin but it's still you." looking right at you, hoshina smiled. "it's still you, and i love you."

#whew #might need an edit tomorrow but now im going to bed #i have a confession: when i was writing the part where i mentioned hoshina's boxers #i cant stop thinking about what kind of underwear hoshina wears lmao #maybe i should write a headcanon about that #hoshina soshiro #soshiro hoshina #hoshina soshiro x reader #soshiro hoshina x reader #hoshina x reader #kaiju no. 8 #kn8 x reader #hoshina soshiro fic #lian replies #hoshina

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corazondebeskar-reads · 6 months ago

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of rage and ruin - chapter nine

chapter nine

series masterlist | prev chapter | next chapter

werewolf!alpha!Joel Miller x f!omega!reader

word count: 3.6k

summary: things take a turn for the worse.

Please read the warnings as some new important ones have been added. NOTE: this is the last time that the SA tag will be used in this story. However, the events of this chapter are important. If you decide to skip this chapter, feel free to message me and I’ll fill you in. Or message if you want specifics about the tags to decide if you want to read it.

chapter warnings: non-con, dark, dead dove do not eat, a/b/o, alpha/omega dynamics, omegaverse, captivity, canon-typical violence, genre-typical violence, horror themes, graphic violence, abuse by captors (not by either joel or reader), body horror, viewer discretion is advised, sexual assault (NOT by joel, NOT described, just implied and alluded to), p in v, torture

also on ao3

dividers by @saradika-graphics

You were wrong about Mike. About his lack of retaliation.

You were so, so wrong.

That much is clear when you wake up.

The first sign that things aren’t quite right is that you never did get around to going to sleep last night.

The second is that you may be buried, or something. You can’t quite move your limbs beyond wiggling your fingers and toes. And you can’t see shit.

The third sign is that you can’t smell Joel. Not beyond what’s soaked into your skin and sweater. No, he’s very much not here. Or anywhere nearby, if the rapidly tightening feeling in your chest is any indication.

It’s panic you can’t shake off, you know, since you can’t fucking move.

The fluorescent overhead buzzes to life.

“Not so brave now, are you?” The voice blows in from across the room and sinks in your gut like it’s sleeping with the fishes.

You really, truly are in some deep shit.

You’ve been kidnapped from your kidnappers. Honestly, what did you do in a past life to deserve this?

He’s right about one thing. The confidence you clung to in the early days has been picked at like carrion. You’re scared.

“I didn’t–I’m��” but something is wrong, so very, very wrong. You’re bubbling out gibberish and spit. It’s just sounds, dribbling from sloppy lips.

He rolls his eyes. “Shut up. It ain’t gonna wear off for a while, so best just sit quietly like a good bitch.”

You’re not sure if it's the panic or whatever he’s drugged you with, but your throat is cinched, and your cheeks sting from the uncontrollable stream of tears.

“Let’s see what’s so fuckin’ special about you. Why your cunt is worth more than my brother’s life,” he spits, unfortunately literally, as droplets spray.

Shit. They were actual brothers. Not that it mattered; what was done was done, but you had really miscalculated this.

His hand is on your shoulder. It’s better than where you thought he was reaching, and yet, still horrible. It’s not like you haven’t had to deal with handsy or aggressive men. It’s just… usually, you can move. Fight. Run.

His hand is nothing like Joel’s. His fingers are short, his nails broken and edged with grime. There are scars and dry skin, like Joel, but it’s nothing like his rough grip. There’s no nick above the webbing of his thumb, no calluses on the plump pads of his fingers to remind you that you’re alive.

Mike brushes his thumb over Joel’s bite, the thin newborn skin taut and jagged. You make a sound. You don’t hear it, not with the way your heart is beating in your eardrums, not the way every note scrapes your throat, but you grate out a sound that might have been a hiss.

Or a growl.

His hand connects with your cheek, which does not help the dizziness stuffed between your ears.

You’re not even mad, because it makes you dizzy enough that you don’t really register what comes after. Maybe you would have been worried about that, but he hit you hard enough that you didn’t even remember how hard you’d been hit.

He must know he’s on a dwindling timetable. Inevitably, by dawn, the others will return to the base with Joel in tow. Inevitably, by dawn, they’ll know.

As if he can tell you’ve dug up a fragment of hope, he leers, taking a swig from a bottle of dirty brown liquor. “You think Jim’s gonna waste resources on finding you?” he murmurs, grimy fingers stroking your cheek.

And just like that, with a sharp breath, you lose that hope. Because he’s right, he’s undeniably right. Jim never misses a chance to bitch about the drain you are. They don’t need you, not really. Neither does Joel, not really.

It’s easy, after the hours that have passed, to give in to the overwhelming dread. His hand wanders as it settles in, and you twitch away from his touch.

“Guess it’s wearin’ off,” Mike muses, taking another drink. “Can’t have you puttin’ up a fight now.” His bottle clinks against the file cabinet he sets it upon as he squats to dig through a duffel bag.

There’s nothing you can do when he ties you down. There’s nothing you can do as he grips your cheeks hard, his thumb digging into your jaw until your mouth opens. You try not to swallow the liquor he pours in, only to aspirate it instead, wheezing and sputtering to little effect.

“Jesus. Can’t even handle a little booze,” he sneers. “Too bad. Can’t have you gettin’ too feisty, huh?” He forces more down your throat, and it burns.

He keeps squeezing your face, peering down at your mouth. “Reckon I should teach you a lesson about biting,” he said, tapping the bottle lightly against your front teeth. A whimper of fear slips free, and he grins crookedly.

“Yeah, you don’t like that, huh? My brother didn’t much like gettin’ bit, either.”

He steps away to rifle back through the duffle, and when he comes back, it’s with a pair of rusted pliers.

You can feel your body twitch, trying its very hardest. The lingering drugs and booze make your head spin and throb. Mike faded in and out of view, but made his presence very clear as he pried your jaw back open.

He tapped each tooth with the pliers, hemming and hawing about where to start. Garbled sounds are all the protest you can muster, trying to shake your head loose of his grasp as he selects an incisor.

The first two attempts fail, the pliers slipping free, battering you in the process. The third try, though, clamps on just right. He clumsily tugs, to no avail, before wiggling and twisting the tooth. Reluctantly, your body parts ways with it as he increases the force, plucking the loosened tooth from the gum.

You can’t even really hear your own screams. There’s pain, there’s blood, there’s Mike’s sick laughter. And then there’s darkness.

—

It’s not the fight that wakes you. Not the gunshots, not the snarling. Everything has died down by the time you come around.

Well, not everything. Based on the sounds, you’d hazard a guess that Mike is still at least a little alive. When you look up, you’re thrilled to find out you can, that the paralysis has waned.

Then, of course, you wish you hadn’t looked at all. Once you have, though, you can’t look away. You understand that Tool song now, the one from the CD your dad burned you before the world went to hell.

For a moment, Joel meets your eyes, and you are the wolf, nearly. You can feel the way it burns through your veins.

Satisfied that you aren’t afraid, that you’re okay for a moment, he finishes his feast.

There’s not much left of Mike when he tosses his corpse into a corner. It smacks against the far wall and drops to the ground. His final resting place.

The Wolf that is Joel, that is your alpha, that is your savior, stands on his hind legs with those unsettling inverse ankle-knee-freaky bits bent. But even crouching, he fills the room. He’s a blur, like the first time you saw him, an ink blot in the center of your vision. A wormhole absorbing all the light. What little is left reflects off his shiny body. It takes you a moment to realize his fur (or his body hair, as he insists) is soaked in blood.

It clings to the plaque on his teeth. His hands are steeped in it, some already hardening or coagulating under the stretch of his claws. He stalks over to you, and you do not flinch from him. His claws rend the rope as if it were no more than spaghetti. You tremble uncontrollably as he helps you sit up, most of your faculties back under your control. His blood-soaked, massive paws cradle your cheeks, pulling back abruptly when you whimper.

A growl rumbles from his chest, and he throws his head back and howls. It brings footsteps in your direction as he gathers you into his arms. You’ve never felt smaller than you do now, and it’s not just the bulk and heft of his body. He cradles you with a delicacy unbefitting his sharp, deadly nature, but it’s all the more Joel to you than the brutality you witnessed.

The raiders filter in, just a few of them, more to control him than assist, but they reclaim Mike’s stolen supplies and pay you no mind. At least until Cheryl comes in.

“Alive after all, huh?” she says, approaching far closer than you think she should dare. But she wiggles the remote to the shock collar as she nears, peering at you. “Still want her, pet?” she asks Joel. “She’s all used up.”

He bares his teeth and snarls, and she shrugs. “It was just an option,” she says, hand dropping from the pistol on her belt.

You feel sick from the second brush with death in as many hours. Or maybe it’s from the bootleg booze and blood that’s been dripping down your throat.

He looks down at you, long tongue poking out to lap at your cheek before he realizes the injury is inside. He whines, and you shake your head, weaving your fingers in his fur and burying your face there. He doesn’t need words; neither of you do. He just takes you home.

No. Not home. You can’t let yourself accept that. But it’s been almost a year, now. Almost a year since they plucked you from that FEDRA truck and brought you to hell.

It’s not the cell that’s home, though. It’s him.

—

You look up at the wolf once you’re locked in, the relief of your familiar prison bubbling up like bile. The others go back to their day, the incident no more than a blip of inconvenience. Silence lingers, both of you waiting, waiting, waiting to hear the heavy thunk of the cellar’s deadbolt.

As soon as it sounds, you break.

“You found me,” you gasp, trailing into a whimper. “You found me, you found me.” Your voice is grating, leaking from your cracked and dry throat. It hurts to talk, your jaw throbs, and you struggle around the swelling, but you can’t stem the leak.

He grips your biceps with both paws, and rolls back the shift enough to speak. “I found you,” he says firmly, letting you feel his sturdy hold on you, keeping you there and present. “I’ve got you. Okay?”

You don’t respond, still shaking and swaying a little on the spot. “You found me,” you echo, raw and dredged up from the hollow of your lungs.

“Hey,” he growls without aggression. “ Listen to me. ” He doesn’t mean to do it. His voice drops a register, an even lower rumble than usual, and your attention snaps up to him.

He winces. There’ll be time to apologize later, though. “I’ve got you,” he repeats steadily. “Okay?”

You nod. “Okay,” you echo in a whisper.

“I will always find you,” he promises, eyes gone dark. “Always, little omega. You’re mine, and there’s nowhere on this godforsaken earth that they can hide you from me.”

In any other context, it would frighten you. It should, by all means, frighten you a little. Instead, you kiss him.

It’s a mistake that sends you pulling back, gasping in pain, and all the ferocity on his face falls.

“Let me see,” he coaxes gently, cradling your jaw. He’s careful as he presses your lip to the side to get a good look. “ Jesus, ” he whispers.

You can see the guilt building up, layers upon layers from all his life. You won’t let this, won’t let you be another. “Joel—”

But he’s not having it. He bristles and narrows his eyes at you. “Would you stop tryin’ to run your mouth? You’re making it bleed.” His eyes dart over your face, stopping back on your missing tooth each time before sighing, shoulders slumping.

“C’mon,” he grumbles, leaving no room for argument by simply picking you up and carrying you over to the bed. He settles with you straddling his lap, wincing. He looks down for only a moment. “I’ll take care of that next. Sit still ‘n be good.”

It turns out not to be a hard order to follow. He sets about to lick your wounds, starting with your mouth. He doesn’t mean for it to turn into anything, he really doesn’t, but he’s licking inside your mouth. As his spit mixes with yours, as he laves his tongue oh-so-gently over and over, the familiar tingling starts to set in. It numbs the pain, not entirely, but the relief is enough to make you sigh softly against his mouth.

He can’t entirely be blamed as it turns into lazy kisses, tongues brushing comfort over one another, each press of lips like a mantra. I’m here, I’m here, I’m here. You’re not sure who’s reassuring who.

It’s not going to fix it. There’s not a magical makeout session that can restore your tooth or even heal the socket. Not that quickly, anyway. But it eases the pain, and so does the way his warm hands hold you like you’re something precious. The way he groans into the kiss, the way he can’t stop reaching for every bit of you, checking meticulously to make sure nothing else was taken from you.

He makes good on his promise to soothe your other wounds. He can’t quite numb your aching mind or racing heart, can’t slide his tongue over the places that shattered inside, but he can damn well remove every trace of Mike from your body.

He settles you down on the mattress, settles himself into the wolf, and he licks every inch of you. His long, hot tongue is just rough enough to make you feel clean. There’s no way even a cell of Mike’s skin is left behind on yours. Joel eats it all up like he did the man himself. It leaves your whole body tingling, your heart pounding in your ears, your cunt gushing by the time he sheaths himself in you.

There’s no room left for anyone else. There’s no room for anything but you and Joel in the darkness.

It’s too late before either of you realize he’s triggered his own rut. Your body responds beautifully, burning under his touch, following your alpha into blissful oblivion. He fusses relentlessly, worried despite his own distress and desire, not wanting you to feel trapped or forced. Not again. Never again.

It’s a promise neither of you are sure he can keep, but both know he’ll die trying.

It isn’t as long as your first heat, but it’s all the more intense. Your little room fills with sweat, pants and groans replacing any need for words. And it’s exactly what you need—no thoughts, no memories, no dealing with what you’ve suffered. Just Joel, just… love? No, that can’t be right. Just lust.

His cock is insistent, pressing into you, filling the gaps he’d left behind. He doesn’t bother turning back to the man, doesn’t bother trying to pretend he’s anything but a mindless creature right now. And still, he’s so gentle. More gentle than he’s ever been.

You didn’t have time to build a nest, but that’s okay. He doesn’t ever move from his place over your body, cocooning you, blocking everything else from sight. There’s just Joel. You’re warm and cozy and safe.

You almost forget that you’re locked up at all. He keeps you on such a high with his deft fingers, mouth, and cock that you can’t even fathom a time when he might have to part from you. The lock of your cunt around his knot is your echo of his promise. Never again.

—

“How much of this is even real?” you whisper in the fading light of your heat. Your hand is lazily raised, blocking out the fluorescents, but he catches it with his own, his thick fingers making room for themselves between yours. Locking you together in another way, keeping you close.

“Couldn’t tell ya,” he says quietly, gruff voice even coarser in the way he holds back, keeping it soft in your ear. “Probably nothin’. But it’s there anyway.”

He was sure as shit right about that. This burning in your chest, the way your heart picked up as he wove your fingers together and tugged your hands down, using both your arms to hold you to his chest, your unified fist in the center. It’s not real, not really. You don’t know him. He doesn’t know you. There’s nothing for this heavy feeling to rest upon, no foundation for the feelings that should not be there.

And yet.

The conversation is veering uncomfortably personal, of which you only have yourself to blame, but you run from it anyway. “You ever see Dawn of the Wolf? ” you ask, pushing for something unserious, something that’ll have him rolling his eyes and putting up a fuss about the W Word.

That’s not what happens, though.

His breath catches for a second before rolling out in a soft sigh, his warm breath ruffling the hairs at the nape of your neck. “Yeah,” he admits. “My—” and there’s something potent in his pause. Something that saps the silliness of your subject change away and dances dangerously close to serious.

“My daughter loved that shit,” he says.

You can’t help the way your body stiffens. You want to roll over and look at him, to parse his pursed lips and warm eyes. He doesn’t let you, though, tightening his grip around your waist, fingers pressing a little more insistently in the divots between your knuckles until you settle.

“Watched the damn movies, read the damn books, had the damn poster on her wall,” he says, something careful in his words. Like he’s trying to give this to you without giving anything up for himself. These memories he’s clutched in the recesses of his ventricles—they can’t be extracted without damaging the last soft tissue he could spare to wrap them in.

“So, who’s team were you on?” you tease instead.

“I didn’t give a shit,” he dismisses. A beat passes. “Why would she even have considered the wimpy blond vampire kid?”

“Oh, I see,” you say, nodding sagely. “You think the obvious choice was the tall, hairy, brooding wolf-man. I have to agree.”

“Shut up,” he grouses immediately. “It was all stupid, anyway. None of ‘em could stop whining.”

You go to turn over again, but this time, he lets you, both of his arms cradling you in a way that makes your throat feel tacky and tight. It’s made worse by the way his eyes are bright, the flecks of green bursting through the brown like lichen in soil.

“Never did get to see the sequel,” you say after a moment, trying to regain some sense in your brain.

He snorts. “Didn’t miss anything. I thought it couldn’t be worse than the first one but it was the stupidest two hours of my life.”

“I can’t believe you saw Dawn of the Wolf 2, and I didn’t,” you say. A beat passes. “Will you tell me about her?” you ask, barely a whisper, afraid to break whatever is happening.

“Not… not today,” he grants, and you take it for the huge step that it is, and nod, burying your face in his chest instead and taking a deep breath of his soothing scent. The oaky notes are easier to parse, now, much more complex. Hints of spices are there, sometimes.

You’re getting too familiar. So much so that when the chamomile blossom of his grief leaks through, your grip on him tightens just a little, and you find yourself pressing a kiss to the thick thatch of hair beneath your cheek.

It isn’t real, but how can it not be? How can something this intense not be real? No, it’s different. This isn’t real versus fake like something photoshopped, something on a green screen.

This is more than that. The dotted lines that make up constellations aren’t real, but it doesn’t change the way those stars are bound together to make something unique, something breathtaking.

“I get it now,” he murmurs, breaking your existential reverie.

“Get what?” you say, nose wrinkling.

He bumps his nose against yours, nudging at you in a way you know would involve a playful nip if he was his other self. “Why he didn’t just eat her,” he says.

You reward him with a bark of a laugh. “You’re still thinking about Dawn?”

This time he does nip at you, catching your ear gently with very human teeth. “S’your fault,” he grumbles, and you feel it rumble through his chest.

And yours.

No, wait, that was your stomach. You’re suddenly starving, and with that revelation comes another, much worse one. You sit up so quickly that Joel follows suit, eyebrows raised.

“What’s the matter?” He barks.

“It’s the food,” you whisper. “That’s why they don’t let you share. That’s how Mike got me. It’s in the fucking food.”

He sits up, cupping your jaw. “Explain,” he growls.

“I think they’re drugging us,” you finally tell him. It’s been a haunting tug in the back of your brain, one you didn’t really want to admit to. There’s been a matching tug in your gut, the feeling of something not sitting quite right, but you couldn’t put a finger on it.

It had been twenty years since you had something like cough syrup, anyway. But that’s the feeling. The fuzzy spot between your eyes where the ground seems to swoop up, the way you move through the day underwater.

“Fuck,” Joel whispers. But he can’t deny it makes sense. It makes too much goddamn sense. He’s been too fucking compliant, too fucked to care. He thought it was apathy borne of everything he’s been through.

But goddamnit. He knows. He just knows you’re right.

next chapter

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #alpha!joel x omega!reader #alpha!joel miller x omega!reader #werewolf!joel #omegaverse fic #dead dove fic

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hypnobeauty · 6 months ago

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A Chance Encounter - a cho hyun-ju x reader fic (part 3)

summary: a story about how you and Hyun-ju met and the following years of your relationship. part 1 / part 2 cw: no use of y/n, reader is afab, angst, fluff, hyun is unsure of herself, pre-squid game, slice of life. a/n: hello! i'm back with another part. it is probably the biggest one so far. i wish they were my barbies and i could make them kiss. anyway! i have quite a bit of the story drafted, we'll probably get into the relationship next part. it is out of my control, i never imagined i'd write so many parts lol enjoy xx comments are always appreciated ♥ taglist: @strayteez3staner @dekiruxxx @jeongteen @sunnysurvives @3leni @etta-huracan @honeyhyunju @basoressia - comment if you’d like to be tagged.

part 3. a door left open

the uber ride was awkward at first, the kind of silence where neither of you seemed to know where to start. hyun-ju sat stiffly beside you, her hands folded neatly on her lap, her gaze fixed firmly on the window. you could see her shoulders tense, and you thought about how tired she must be.

you decided to break the silence. “so, are you in pain? be honest.”

she turned her head slightly, her expression unreadable. “a little,” she admitted. “mostly just… tired.”

“that’s fair,” you said, giving her a sympathetic smile. “surgery’s no joke. i remember when my cousin had his wisdom teeth out—he tried to eat a cheeseburger the same day. ended up crying into his fries. don’t be like him.”

that earned a small giggle from her, and you took it as a good sign.

“you’re lucky i didn’t let ha-neul come with us,” you added, leaning in conspiratorially. “she would’ve pestered you with questions about your nose—she’s obsessed with noses right now. it’s been her only personality trait for weeks.”

this time, hyun-ju chuckled, soft but genuine. “what’s wrong with her nose?”

“nothing,” you said, grinning. “she just decided it’s not ‘cute’ enough. she almost picked one that would’ve made her look like michael jackson. i had to intervene.”

that got a laugh out of her—small, but real. “michael jackson?”

you nodded, feigning solemnity. “i told her, ‘ha-neul, your nose is fine. it’s perfect. no glitter gloves necessary.’ she almost went through with it anyway.”

hyun-ju laughed a bit more, finally relaxing a bit. the sound eased something in your chest.

“you’re good at this,” she said after a moment, her voice quieter now.

“at what?”

“making people feel comfortable.”

you shrugged, feeling a little shy. “oh. i just think it’s nice to be kind. and honestly? helping you was no big deal. it’s what anyone would do.”

“not anyone,” she said, looking at you for the first time since you got in the car.

when the uber pulled up to her building, you hopped out with her, offering to help her up to her apartment “do you need help getting upstairs?”

she shook her head firmly, already reaching for the door handle. “no, it’s fine. i can manage.”

“okay,” you said, “at least let me give you my number. if you need anything, just text me, okay?”

hyun-ju hesitated for a moment, then nodded slowly, her eyes flickering with something unreadable. you exchanged numbers, and she disappeared into her building while you climbed back into the car.

later that night, as she sat on her couch, her phone buzzed.

hey, it’s me. i hope you’re feeling better. please keep me updated, and don’t hesitate to ask for help. you deserve it too.

she read it almost immediately. you watched the little “read” notification appear at the bottom of the screen. but no reply came.

hyun stared at the message for a long time, her fingers hovering over the keyboard. she typed out a reply, then deleted it. typed another, then deleted that too. nothing felt right. nothing felt good enough. finally, she locked her phone and set it down,

as the uber pulled away from hyun-ju’s building, you leaned back in the seat, finally exhaling the tension you hadn’t realized you were holding. before you could fully settle, your phone buzzed in your pocket. ha-neul’s name lit up the screen.

“heeyy,” you answered, bracing yourself.

“what happened? you just disappeared! did i miss an emergency rhinoplasty?” her tone was playful but edged with curiosity.

you sighed. “no emergency. i just… ended up helping someone.”

“helping someone? who?”

you hesitated. “the woman from the waiting room. remember her, hyun-ju? she had just had surgery, and the clinic wouldn’t let her leave without someone to sign her out.”

there was a pause, then an incredulous laugh. “wait, so you ditched me for someone you barely know?”

“it wasn’t like that,” you said quickly. “she needed help, and no one else was there. i couldn’t just leave her.”

another pause, but this time, ha-neul’s tone softened. “you’re too nice for your own good, you know that?”

“maybe,” you admitted.

“and she’s pretty, isn’t she?” ha-neul’s teasing edge was back.

you laughed, flustered. “i mean… i guess? that’s not the point.”

there was a beat of silence on the line. then, she snorted. “well, i didn’t know you were into girls.”

“what?” you sputtered.

“oh, don’t act surprised. i knew it since that day,” she teased mercilessly.

“to be honest,” you admitted, “me neither.”

“oh my god, you are so into her! i knew it! since the first time we saw her, i knew something was up.”

“i’m not into her,” you said, though your voice didn’t sound as convincing as you’d hoped.

“sure, sure,” she said, dragging out the words. “you’re just playing knight in shining armor for no reason at all.”

you rolled your eyes but smiled despite yourself. “goodbye, ha-neul.”

“oh, this isn’t over. i’m going to interrogate you later.”

you hung up with a laugh, shaking your head. from that day on, ha-neul teased you mercilessly—she found a way to always bring up hyun-ju, teasing you about how you’d never been so straightforward with anyone before, and even your friends got in on it after she spilled the story at dinner the following night.

the only problem? hyun-ju never replied.

you sent her a series of messages over the next week:

hey, how are you feeling today? let me know if you need anything.

i live close by—it’s no trouble at all.

two days later:

hey, stranger! ha-neul had her surgery today and looked worse than you, haha.

sorry, i didn’t mean to say you looked bad, just… well, bruised. are you okay?

hyun brought you up in therapy the following week, sitting across from her therapist—a kind, middle-aged woman who specialized in lgbtq+ mental health.

“i met someone,” hyun said hesitantly, her hands fidgeting in her lap.

her therapist’s face lit up. “that’s wonderful, hyun-ju. tell me about her.”

“she’s… nice,” hyun said, struggling to find the words. “she helped me after my surgery. we talked a little. she’s funny.”

“and how do you feel about her?”

hyun hesitated, then shrugged. “i don’t know. it feels… weird. like, she sees me. as me. and that’s good, but it’s scary too.”

her therapist nodded thoughtfully. “it sounds like you’re afraid of being vulnerable.”

hyun wasn’t sure what to say, so her therapist continued. “are you planning to stay in touch with her?”

“i think so,” hyun said cautiously. “but it’s scary. what if i say the wrong thing? what if i ruin it?”

her therapist smiled gently. “relationships—friendships, too—are about taking risks. you don’t have to have all the answers or the perfect words. just being honest and showing up is enough. let her in a little and see what happens.”

hyun left the session feeling lighter, more hopeful.

but when the messages from you kept coming, her anxiety crept back in.

each time her phone buzzed, she felt a pang of guilt. she typed out replies over and over, but nothing felt good enough. her fear of saying the wrong thing left her paralyzed, so she said nothing at all.

three days after the last message:

i’m starting to get worried, hyun-ju. just let me know if you’re fine.

another day:

i pass by your building every day on my way to work. should i stop by?

and finally:

hey, hyun-ju. did something happen? sorry if i came on too strong—i was genuinely worried about you.

i can see you’re reading these, but you never reply… i get it. i’ll leave you alone now. sorry if i made you uncomfortable.

after that, the chat stayed silent. when she received your last message, guilt and regret gnawed at her. she wanted to scream. to hit something. to do anything but face the truth: she had let fear win again.

in her next therapy session, when the doctor asked about you, hyun-ju lied.

“it… didn’t work out,” she said quickly, not meeting her therapist’s eyes. “she probably realized we’re too different.”

the therapist gave her a kind smile but didn’t press further. “that’s okay, hyun-ju. not every connection works out. what matters is that you tried, and you allowed yourself to open up, even if only for a moment.”

hyun-ju nodded, but her stomach churned. she couldn’t bring herself to admit the truth—that she hadn’t replied to a single message.

you stared at the chat for a long time after sending that last message. the little grey avatar beside her name felt cold, distant—you wished she had a profile pic. your own days moved forward, though you found yourself thinking of her often. you reread your messages to her, trying to pinpoint where you’d gone wrong. even ha-neul, who had teased you endlessly at first, stopped mentioning her after seeing how the silence weighed on you.

life went on. but hyun-ju had awakened in you feelings you had never taken seriously before and now you couldn’t help feeling like something had been left unresolved.

a month later, you were standing in line at your favorite café, eyes scanning the pastry display as you tried to choose something to pair with your cappuccino.

unbeknownst to you, at a table near the window, hyun-ju sat with her notebook, calculating the cost of her next procedure. she sipped her coffee absentmindedly, the barista’s voice barely registering as they called out a name—your name.

her pen froze mid-stroke. it wasn’t a common name. could it really be you? as she told herself it wasn’t, she heard your laugh, warm and unmistakable. her head snapped up, and there you were, joking with the barista as they handed you a cup and a paper bag.

hyun-ju stared, her heart pounding. you thanked them and turned toward the door, completely unaware of her. her legs moved before her mind could catch up. one moment she was sitting; the next, she was standing in front of you, her hand gripping your arm.

you had just reached the door when you felt a hand on your arm and a soft voice behind you saying your name. you turned, startled, and found yourself in front of her.

“can w—can we talk?” she asked, her voice low but firm. “please.”

you looked up from her hand—her nails were painted a soft blush pink and you made a mental note to ask her what nail polish it was—, and that familiar floral scent reached your nose. her expression was a mix of hope, fear, and determination.

face-to-face with hyun-ju, you smiled softly. “of course.”

223 notes · View notes

wangxianficfinder · 7 months ago

Text

In the mood for...

Dec 29th

Link limit has been reached, but please still leave any suggestions in the comments or replies 😊 - Mod C

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1. Hey this is for itmf! I want to see A) any bodyguard au's either wwx or lwj could be a bodyguard? Or B) Non a/b/o mpreg that could be modern au or normal timeperiod

Bodyguard king by 74243 (E, 8k, WangXIan, F/F, Modern, Idol WWX, Bodyguard LWJ, Female NHS, Platonic D/s, Loss of Virginity, Not NOT inspired by KUWTK s05e04, When u do what u love u never work a day in ur life)

lightning in a bottle by nighimpossible (E, 12k, WangXian, Bodyguard, Modern, Mutual Pining, Blow Jobs, (light) Rope Bondage, Scientist WWX, Bodyguard LWJ, Kitchen Sex, Anal Fingering)

the old-fashioned way by Anonymous (T, 1k, WangXian, Body Dysphoria, Gender Dysphoria, Mpreg, Trans MXY, body fluids, references to canon suicide, this is a funny crack ficlet, despite the rest of the tags, trans WWX, Post-Canon, Transphobia mentioned, Trans Male Character)

The Amazing Adventures Of Jiang Xiaolian And Family by bumbledees (T, 71k, WangXian, JYL/JZX, JC/WN, Mild to Moderate Pining, lotus pier siblings quietly also have a penchant for chaos, WWX will make LQR like him whether the old man likes it or not, WWX just wants to have fun and not be killed and also to go to his sister’s wedding, Mutual Pining, WWX is more stubborn than a boulder and twice as dense, Everybody Lives, nobody who matters anyways, except for WN, you’re an angel and we’re delighted you’re here, WangXian canon is sad bitch let’s get you some fun, “WWX fools the entire cultivation world”, “and kicks up drama in front of their salad”, testimonial from reader Vapid_Girl and a good summary of this fic, warnings for sexual harassment due to JGS, and for the canonical behavior of the jin clan ie war crimes, forced labor, human trafficking, etc., hello naughty jin cultivators it’s revenge time :), jiang “rolling gay crisis” wanyin, wen “deserved better” qionglin, yunmeng bros feelings, copious use of bad language grace à JC, my oddball collection of headcanons concerning fierce corpses, WN has a playful streak, anyone friends with WWX has to have one on some level, Homophobia, Internalized Homophobia, extremely brief mention of something approaching a conversion camp but it’s just two sentences, Happy Ending, Let JC Experience Happiness, WN is technically undead in this so uhhh warning for that, he’s far more like a vampire than a zombie honestly, so JC gets his own YA supernatural romance novel basically, at least WN doesn’t sparkle????, Crack Taken Mostly Seriously, like many of WWX’s best ideas it starts as a joke!, purposeful baby aquisition, WWX when will you learn that there are consequences to your actions) arguable whether this counts as mpreg if the "m" stands for "melon", but the later fics have a lot of focus on pregnancy and child rearing if that's a plus

All I Want by Selenay (E, 47k, WangXian, Modern AU, No Powers, Mpreg, Post Holiday Romance, Consequences, Reunions, Idiots in Love, Teacher WWX, Rating earned in later chapters, Handwavey Biology)

🧡Brilliant Mistake by brooklinegirl (E, 53k, WangXian, Modern AU, Sex Pollen, Mpreg, dubcon, Modern Cultivators, Dubious Medical Science)

On The Way Home by vesna (mrsronweasley) (E, 58k, WangXian, Modern AU, Mpreg, Non-a/b/o mpreg, Unprotected Sex, Unexpected Pregnancy, Friends With Benefits, Getting Together, Pining while fucking)

They Have a Son series by vesna (mrsronweasley) (E, 79k, WangXian, ZhuiYi, Mpreg, overly indulgent nonsense, Curtain Fic)

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)

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2. For INTMF do you have any recs based on the untamed version. Where wy comes back from the burial grounds and treats lwj with indifference. Basically lwj wanting to help wy but wy taking it the wrong way and tells lwj to mind his business kind of vibes. Thanks!

Lynchpin by ShanaStoryteller (Not Rated, 103k, WangXian, JC & WWX, Time Travel, Fix-It, Lynchpin [PODFIC] by Opalsong, [PODFIC] Lynchpin by Gwogobo)

Standing Engagement by x_los (M, 18k, WangXian, ChengQing, Misunderstandings Accidental Engagement, Sunshot Campaign, Golden Core Reveal, Canon-Typical Violence, Accidental Relationship, WQ Lives, Everybody Lives, Episode 19, Episode 21).

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3. Hello, hello, hello! Good morning/afternoon/evening! For "I'm in the Mood For" - LWJ spoiling WWX. like full on indulging WWX's wants and needs no matter how crazy they are. WWX doesn't even have to say anything for LWJ to just shower him with gifts because LWJ just wants to see WWX happy!! let WWX be a kept man/trophy husband!!

bonus points if other characters call out LWJ's favoritism lol

no sugar daddy au pls. don't want their relationship to have any kind of transaction. modern au are also welcome :D

thank you!!!

my rivers tilt towards you by perfectlyrose (T, 26k, WangXian, Canon, Canon Divergence, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, Fairy Tale Elements, dragonji, mentions of, Madam Yu's A+ Parenting, First Meetings, Romance, Strangers to Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort)

Life before you was tragic by covalentbonds (Not Rated, 4k, WangXian, Fluff and Humor)

🔒a garden, a tenderness by butterflylungs (E, 16k, WangXian, Modern with Magic, Modern Cultivators, Getting Together, casual hook up to friends to lovers, Pining, Hurt/Comfort, Wound Tending, Happy Ending, Age Difference, Power Imbalance, wwx's canon problems with the jiangs, mentioned past wangxian/others, top LWJ, slightly undernegotiated kink, gege kink, Spit As Lube, Overstimulation)

The Misunderstanding by kisahawklin (T, 9k, WangXian, Modern AU, Misunderstandings, POV Outsider) "Sugar Daddy" is a term used in the last two fics but Lan Zhan is NOT actually a Sugar Daddy in them (other people misunderstand Wei Ying and Lan Zhan's relationship).

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4. Happy holidays to the admins of my favorite blog! My ITMF request: fics with more serious consequences for Jin Ling stabbing WWX. I'd like more drama and more reaction from the people who were there (bonus points if Sizhui is there!) Maybe WWX dies or at least tries to lmao, and LWJ and JC lose their shit in a major way. Jin Ling POV welcome!

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5. Hello I’m in the mood for any canon divergence, time travel, fix it, or sort of do over where they prevent people from dying. Thank youuu🫶🏻 @djalexdask

Devotion of Love by SaiaiSaiko (M, 47k, WangXian, 3zun, WWX & LSZ, WWX Lives, NMJ Lives, MXY Lives, Servant WWX, WWX in MXY's Body, Sentient Burial Mounds, Healer WWX, BAMF WWX, WangXIan Adopt LSZ, POV Alternating, Canon-Typical Violence, Petty LWJ, Petty WWX, Self-Harm, Canonical Self-Harm, LWJ Plays Inquiry, WWX answers Inquiry, Golden Core Reveal, Family Fluff, Family Dynamics, Good Sibling JC, Good Person JGY, The Yin Tiger Seal, Domestic Fluff) It doesn't prevent all of the deaths but some are prevented. It diverges after the Masacer of Nightless City

Fowl Play by Alwritey87 (G, 2k, JYL/JZX, JZX & WWX, JC & JZX; JZX & JL & JYL, JC & JL, Everyone Lives, JYL & JZX Live, Awkward JZX, JZX & WWX Friendship, Good Person JZX, JZX Tries, Married JYL/JZX, JL Loves JC, JZX & WWX recreate the scene from the titanic but on a sword, JL & WWX Bonding, WWX makes it to JL's 100th day celebration, Happy Ending, JZX's happy family, Ducks save the day, JZX loves his wife) Jin Zixuan accidentally saves the day by being awkward

A Life Without Regrets by naqaashi (M, 163k, WangXian, XuanLi, SongXiao, Canon Divergence, Time Travel Fix-It, Angst and Humor, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Crack Treated Seriously, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, Rogue Cultivator WWX, Murder Husbands, Happy Ending, BAMF WWX, Cultivation Sect Politics, Genius WWX, Sentient Burial Mounds, Grief/Mourning, Angry WWX, No Golden Core Transfer, BAMF LWJ, Angry LWJ, Idiots in Love, Requited Love, Requited Unrequited Love, Soft WangXian, Married WangXian, Soulmates, Not Cultivation World Friendly, Immortal WWX, Canon-Typical Violence, Not JC Friendly, Not Yunmeng Jiang friendly, not gusu lan friendly, Immortal LWJ, WWX is Loved, WWX Deserves Better, WWX Isn't Adopted by the Jiangs)

And They Lived Happily Ever After… by Morgana_avalon (G, 51k, WangXian, JL/LSZ, JC/WQ, JYL/JZX, JC & WWX, A-Yuan living with his family at the Burial Mounds, Time Travel Fix-It, JL gets his happy ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Taking care of WWX, LJY grows an attitude, set before the ambush happens at Qiongqi Path, Canon Divergence, Bunnies, LWJ will always protect WWX, Good brother JC, Good JZX, LWJ can heal WWX's injuries as it is AU, WWX is pardonned, Wen Survivors are offered a way out)

🔒 无别无离 | Without Farewells, Without Parting by dragongirlG (M, 30k, Junior Quartet, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Time Travel, Fix-It of Sorts, Burial Mounds Settlement Days, POV Alternating, Jin Ling’s Hundredth Day Celebration, qiongqi path, Family Feels, Hopeful Ending)

Even If It Breaks Time by WhiteSoul (T, 178k, WangXian, JC/LXC, Angst with a Happy Ending, Time Travel Fix-It, Reconciliation, Yunmeng Bros, Hurt WWX, OP WWX, Injury, Fighting Against Time, Blood and Violence, Implied Sexual Content)

Family by Quiet_crash (G, 57k, WangXian, JYL/JZX, JLY & WWX & JC, LXC & WWX, JYL & LWJ, Time Travel Fix-It, Grief/Mourning, Loss of Parent(s), Established Relationship)

This Time Around by KouriArashi (T, 83k, JGY & NHS, NHS & WWX, JGY & WWX, Time Travel Fix-It, Kid Fic, Families of Choice, Angst, Grief/Mourning, Politics, Class Issues, Past Child Abuse, Moral Ambiguity, Everybody Lives, Eventual Happy Ending)

these colours fade for you only by doodlebutt (T, 36k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Fix-It, Fluff and Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Everybody Lives, Golden Core Transfer Fix-It, ...eventually, Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares, bed sharing, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn, Sunshot Campaign)

Always walked a very thin line by tucuxi (T, 22k, NHS & WWX, JYL & WWX, WangXian, Depression, Anxiety Attacks, Anxiety, Canon-Typical Behavior, Canon-Typical Violence, Canon Divergence, Everyone Lives, except JZn and JGS, Self-Worth Issues, Slow Burn, Oblivious WWX, Golden Core Reveal, WWX Has No Golden Core, Chronic Pain, Chronic Illness, Yin Iron, Baxia Saber, baxia as mental health barometer yikes, Pining, everyone is morally grey, life is not fair and that's kind of the whole point of mxtx books)

a bow for the bad decisions by curiositykilled (T, 154k, Yunmeng Siblings, WangXian, ChengQing, Angst with a Happy Ending, eventually, Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Except WWX, Adopted Sibling Relationship, Canon Divergence, POV WWX, POV JC, Golden Core Reveal, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn, Canon Temporary Character Death, Heavy Angst, Eventual Happy Ending, Body Horror, nmj still dies (sorry))

A Moment's Warning by Neery (G, 8k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Fix-It, Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Misunderstandings, Golden Core Reveal, JL Gets His Bracelet)

Lynchpin by ShanaStoryteller (Not Rated, 103k, WangXian, JC & WWX, Time Travel, Fix-It, Lynchpin [PODFIC] by Opalsong, [PODFIC] Lynchpin by Gwogobo) (link in #2)

The Same Moon Shines series by sami (E, 851k, 52 works, tags and rating varies, WangXian, Asexual XiChengQing Relationship, XuanLi, NHS/OFC, The Same Moon Shines [Podfic - Cold Read] Series by kisahawklin) especially the time travel fics in that series

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6. Hi! I love reading fics that are in Lan Zhan’s POV. I’m in the mood for a fic that is from his POV. Specially a longer fic that is canon-compliant or canon-divergent (so nothing modern/different universe). Time travel is good but if there are just straight forward canon-divergent that’s even better @understand-your-everything

🔒 The Price of Old Wishes by SoManyJacks (E, 67k, WangXian, Minor canon divergence, Angst, POV LWJ, Depression, Suicidal Thoughts, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Smut, Slow Burn, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, semi-verbal LWJ, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Suicide)

A Narrow Bridge by FrameofMind, Jo Lasalle (Jo_Lasalle) (E, 700k, WangXian, Time Travel Fix-It, Canon Divergence, Slow Burn, Getting Together, First Time, Pining while fucking, Burial Mounds Settlement Days, Angst with a Happy Ending, CQL Verse, almost everybody lives/almost nobody dies, epistolary-ish, canon-ish side pairings, radishes)

🔒 in the shadow of moonlit flowers by Reverie (cl410) (T, 56k, wangxian, LXC/NMJ, Cloud Recesses, LWJ & NHS Friendship, Developing Relationship, POV LWJ, Minor Injuries, Autistic LWJ, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, aka the Madam Yu warning, Genius WWX, Light Angst And Hurt/Comfort, WWX Protection Squad, Gusu Lan Sect, Slow Burn, Protective LWJ, LWJ-centric)

sweet chaos by eachandeverydimension (G, 86k, WangXian, Arranged Marriage, Canon Divergence, Fluff, Romance, Light Angst, Falling In Love, Different First Meeting, Qīnghéng-jūn’s A+ Parenting, Night Hunts, Chinese Language, Good Sibling LXC, Good Sibling JYL, POV LWJ, Getting Together, Love Confessions, First Kiss, Chinese Culture, Slow Burn, No Homophobia AU)

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)

🔒 The Second Hand Unwinds by trulywicked (E, 75k, WangXian, JYL/JZX, WIP, Time Travel Fix-It, Not JC Friendly, Not Yunmeng Jiang Sect Friendly, Not Jiāng Family Friendly, Not YZY Friendly, Time Travelling LWJ, Protective LWJ, Fluff, Minor Angst, Minor Character Death, JGS is his own warning, Wooing, LWJ is romantic af, Inventor WWX, Genius WWX, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Protective Gusu Lan Sect, Supportive LXC, Good Uncle LQR, WWX Protection Squad)

Turn Left by kianspo (M, 204k, WangXian, NieLan, Canon Divergence, Fix-It of Sorts, Friends to Lovers, eventually, references to child sexual abuse, not main characters, Neurodivergent LWJ, Slow Build, Lán Family Feels, specifically, Twin Jades of Lán Feels, lwj-centric, Twin Jades of Lán Dynamics, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, Angst with Happy Ending)

the heartlines on our hands by occultings (microcomets) (E, 47k, WangXian, Soulmates, Angst with a Happy Ending, Mutual Pining, First Time, Canon Divergence, Canonical Character Death)

💖🔒 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)

🔒 the thread may stretch or tangle but it will never break by RoseThorne (E, 105k, WIP, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Soulmates, Self-Esteem Issues, Fix-It, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares, PTSD, Handfasting, Sleeping Together, Panic Attacks, Love Confessions, Getting Together, Bathing/Washing, Hair Braiding, Sex Education, First Time, Aftercare, Morning After, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Torture, Hand Jobs, Chronic Pain, Biting, Adoption, Ancestor Veneration, Golden Core Reveal, Top LWJ/Bottom WWX, First Time Blow Jobs, Multiple Orgasms, Switching, sex-related injury, LWJ Stays at the Burial Mounds, LSZ is a Wei, Good Sibling JC Dissociation, Burial Mounds Settlement Days, Disability, Scheming NHS, Disabled Character, Somnophilia)

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7. Hi!! This is for itmf. Is there any fic like this? Wei Wuxian protect his husband from his clan. Or any protective wei wuxian @chibiizzy

💖 the field meets the wood by astronicht (T, 7k, WangXian, BAMF WWX, slight whump, Ritualistic Self Harm, Canon Era, Tang Dynasty style, Blood Loss, Blood and Injury, salt economics, Post-Canon, [Podfic] the field meets the wood by semperfiona_podfic (semperfiona), [podfic] the field meets the wood by jellyfishfire)

🔒 Echoes, Feelings, Yet to Disappear by GravityWinsAgain (M, 1k, WangXian, Post-Canon, Married WangXian, Protective WWX, Angry WWX, descriptions of LWJ's whip scars, descriptions of YZY's abuse of WWX, Discipline Whip, but like only in the context of the scars it left, Hopeful Ending, that feel when you're processing trauma in the middle of the night, while your husband sleeps peacefully next to you, but like in a good way) feature Wei Ying being protective of Lan Zhan against the Lans.

The Meaning of Silence by The Silverfish (ZephyrAndTheSilverfish) (T, 14k, WangXian, Mind Manipulation, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Pining) feature Wei Ying being protective of Lan Zhan against the Lans.

seeds by antebunny (G, 3k, WangXian, SS & LWJ, Canon Divergence, Fix-It, Identity Porn, Dramatic Irony, identity theft, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, the Inherent Romance of Being Known, BAMF WWX, protective boyfriend WWX, simp LWJ) features Wei Ying protecting Lan Zhan against Su She and the Jins.

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8. ITMF where Lan Zhan is in seclusion after that punishment he received after Wei's death. I wonder if there is any fic that covers his time there and reflection in Cold pond cave. And his punishment of 300 whipping by iron rod. A lot of fics seem to take the novel/anime way of whipping by celestial whip (and seclusion in his house) and that's not what I am looking for. I look for series version of Lan Zhan's punishment because it is quite different. I haven't seen any fic that would cover it like it was in live action.

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9. ITMF outsider POV, SI/OC, or transgmigrator into the MDZS-verse. I will take anything, but would prefer to go without romance as the focus for the OC. @br0therw1ves

i told you when i came i was a stranger by Caramelized (M, 50k, OFC/LXC, minor WangXian, Isekai, Transmigration, Fix-It, Canon Divergence, Amateur cartography, Butterfly Effect, Sunshot Campaign, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, No Golden Core Transfer, Dimension Travel, Politics, LXC the politician, Self-Insert, Foreknowledge, Angst with a Happy Ending) seconding the rec for Carmelized -- it does have romance later in the fic, but the story is really excellent.

Wait a minute! by Anonymous (T, 45k, WangXian, World Travel, Dimension Travel, Canon Divergence, Transmigration, I'm Going To Create a Fic That is So Self Indulgent, you guys know the story u make up before you sleep? yeah this is it, Crack Treated Seriously, Everyone Lives, Fluff and Angst, Attempt at Humor, Isekai) no romance in this one!

🔒Dream Before Daybreak by vermillion_crown (M, 189k, JZX & OCs, MM & OCS, WWX & OCs, LWJ & OCs, LXC & OCs, WIP, Major Original Character(s), Canon Divergence, Worldbuilding, Xianxia, Transmigration, Reincarnation, Isekai, Self-Insert, POV First Person, POV OC, Unreliable Narrator, Potty Mouth Protagonist, (narrator has a temper), JZX is going to have a friend, Drama, Dark Comedy, Gender Roles, (are turned into breakfast rolls), Genderfluid Character(s), Liberties taken with Imperial Chinese History and the Chinese Language, (家族祖先饶命...), Political Intrigue, Magic and Science, Physics, Mathematics, (a surprising amount of STEM concepts for a fantasy genre), The bilingual/diaspora experience as taken to the extreme with transmigration)

mary sue alert by victortor (T, 5k, Self-Insert, Language Barrier, Bad Ending, Brief mention of a hand in a stomach, Character Death, its technically not a major character death? hmm) this one is really short and kindof a downer but i found it very interesting

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10. Hellour! I had another ask for an imtf which shows wwx's connection with his sword and flute. Like i saw the fanarts of the spiritual weapon spirits interacting and suibian self destructing after wwx's death( sealing itself) and i just really wanna see its connection with its master. Maybe even wangji guqin and bichen with LWJ or something. Thank you^-^ @just-troy0-0

Your love gives me Wings by SaiaiSaiko (M, 27k, WangXian, WWX Lives, MXY Lives, Winx Club Fusion, Enchantix Form, Sirenix From Winx Club, Believix From Winx Club, Fairy WWX, Witch WWX, Curses, Bad Health through Curses, Spiritual Tools are Pixies, Accelerated Aging, older looking WWX, Fairy NHS, BAMF WWX, BAMF NHS, WWX in WWX’s Body, JZX Lives, NMJ Lives, JYL Lives, The following tags contain spoilers, Evil JGS, Trans MXY, Self-Discovery, Misgendering, Victim JGY, Curse Breaking) Ok hear me out. They are not weapons here but they are kind of existend and important. And do shit and all. But yeah, this may be strange, but maybe you'll enjoy it.

💖 Intervention of Spirits by Vrishchika (T, 4k, WangXian, Pre-Relationship, Canon Divergence, Golden Core Reveal, WWX Has a New Golden Core)

🔒 We’ll Build This House on Stone (Altars) by FluffyHippogriff (E, 279k, WangXian, WIP, Romance, Supernatural Elements, Old God LWJ, Dumb Baby WWX, Friendship, WWX Finds an Ancient Altar, what happens next will shock you, Hijinks & Shenanigans, YLLZ WWX, There’s Always a Price, But For Once It’s Not WWX’s Sweet Bod, Angst with a Happy Ending, Explicit Chapters Will Be Individually Tagged, Bichen Sword, Wàngjī Guqin, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Nonbinary Character, Nonbinary Bichen) features Bichen and Wangji (qin) personified.

🔒the world passes by but for me there is only you by beeswaxing (E, 82k, WangXian, NieLan, Canon Divergence, Fix-It of Sorts, Accidental Marriage, Love Confessions, First Kiss, Horny Teenagers, Mutual Pining, Fluff, Everybody Lives, First Time, Wedding Night, Emotional Sex, Golden Core Reveal)

~*~

11. Hi I'm looking for fics with the ghost girls (you know who). Just fics where they play some part, maybe not a big one, but you know they are there and present. Although if you do know fics where they are explored, then please rec them. @secretartquotes

To Wake Giants by Alwritey87 (T, 3k, JC & JL, JC & WWX, Assassination Attempt(s), Major Character Injury, Twin Prides of Yunmeng Feels, Angst, WWX's ghost brides, WWX your YLLZ is showing, JC has no chill when it comes to his nephew, Mild Gore, Mild torture, JC & WWX Reconciliation, (kinda through revenge for their nephew), Good Uncle JC, BAMF WWX, off screen death of assassin) The ghost brides aren't super prevalent but wwx does use them to get revenge post Canon 🫶

A Future Family In A Broken Past by Hauntcats (T, 121k, wangxian, WWX & Wen Remnants, Jiang Family & WWX, WQ/MM, JYL/NHS, LXC/NMJ, Not Jiāng Family Friendly, Not Cultivation World Friendly, WWX Needs a Hug, Family Dynamics, What is a good family?, Fear of emotions does not excuse abuse, Not Jiang Clan Friendly, Angst with a Happy Ending, Time Travel fix-it, Canon-Typical Violence, Canon Divergence, LXC needs a hug, Everyone Needs A Hug, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, Not YZY Friendly)

Blossoms of Yunmeng by villainousfriend (katzenfabrik) (T, 5k, WangXian, resentful energy, WWX's ghost ladies, ghost bondage, Kissing, canon-typical undernegotiated kink, LWJ kisses a ghost lady)

🔒 Ad Oblivione by Baph, HikariNoHimeWriter (M, 70k, WangXian, Time Travel Fix-It, Temporary Character Death, Canon-Typical Violence, POV Multiple, Hurt/Comfort, Grief/Mourning, Identity Reveal, Golden Core Reveal, Cultivation World Critical, Not JC Friendly, Abusive YZY, Angst with a Happy Ending) features a female ghost who becomes Wei Ying's companion although I don't think she technically was one of the ghost brides.

A Long Road by Vathara (T, 175k, WangXian, Valdemar Series by Mercedes Lackey, Fluff and Angst, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Scheming NHS, Necromancy, Fire, Ghosts, Accidental Child Acquisition, is it an accident if the ghosts keep bringing them?) This is a crossover and I can't promise it'll make much sense if you don't know the source material, but it does have the ghost girls as friends and helpers of WWX

🧡 Don't Wanna Fall by nekojita (M, 111k, WangXian, Mpreg, A/B/O, Fix-it, Lots of pining, Angst with a happy ending, Canon Divergence, Child thief WN) (link in #16) the ghost girls are very active in this one!

~*~

12. Hey, so my holidays just went down the Yilling Laozu route and I could use some distraction. Any fics with interesting worldbuilding? Thank you and at least to you all merry Holidays @saiaisaiko

🔒 In Imitation of Life by travelingneuritis (E, 70k, WangXian, Android WWX, the tone is: neon seedy, Smut, rich people are bored and terrible, Illustrations, post-apocalyptic landscape, Happy Ending, Modern Cultivation, Science Fiction, Shower Sex, severe injury to a major character, time loss, BDE (big devotion energy)) if you like xianxia -> sci-fi AUs. This one was very well done, as is everything by travelingneuritis. The worldbuilding stands out to me <3

Interesting/Good Worldbuilding pt. 1 (Canon Era only)

Interesting/Good Worldbuilding pt.2 (AU’s only)

Twelve Moons and a Fortnight by stiltonbasket (M, 290k, WangXian, Humor, Slow Burn, Post-Canon Fix-It, Long-Distance Relationship, Epistolary, Love Letters, Family Feels, a-qing lives, teenage romance, Adoption, Romantic Comedy, Happy Ending, Weddings, Case Fic, Parenthood, Politics)

It's Not The Destination (But The People You Save Along The Way) by Arcxus (T, 65k, WIP, WangXian, WWX & MXY, JC & WWX, JL & WWX, LQR & WWX, LWJ & LSZ & WWX, Major Character Death, Fix-It of Sorts, character death is WWX, MXY Lives, God of Death WWX, WWX is a Little Shit, Mutual Pining, Demon WWX, LWJ humour agenda, Angst, For Want of a Nail, BAMF WWX, Sentient Burial Mounds, Twin Prides of Yunmeng Feels, JC & WWX Reconciliation, Canon Divergence, YLLZ WWX, BAMF JC, BAMF LWJ, Worldbuilding, Politics, WWX is Good With Children, WWX is a Jiang)

journey of no envies by spicymooncakes (T, 104k, WIP, WangXian, NHS & WWX, NHS & NMJ, WWX & WQ, JYL & WWX, burial mounds family, Fix-It, Everyone lives, Worldbuilding, Inventor WWX, WQ Deserves Better, NHS loves his brother, an attempt to make sense of demonic cultivation, Everyone has their own agenda)

The Shade of Old Trees by Kryal (T, 363k, WangXian, History, Canon Divergence, Modern, Slow Burn, Worldbuilding, Slow Life, Action/Adventure, Magic Returns, BAMF WWX)

Flowers Blooming in the Dark by TheLegendOfChel (T, 65k, WangXian, LSZ & LWJ, LSZ & WWX, Gods & Goddesses, Inspired by Hades and Persephone (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore), Ancient Greek Religion & Lore Fusion, but it's still in a xianxia/wuxia setting, Mutual Pining, Courtship, Forbidden Love, Kidnapping, Kind Of, Smitten LWJ, Smitten WWX, Fluff, Courting Rituals, Secret Relationship, references to WWX's canonical kinks, Child LSZ, Tooth-Rotting Fluff)

💖 symmetry by bleuett (M, 44k, WangXian, Space, Science Fiction, Happy Ending, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Holding Hands, Blow Jobs, Hand Feeding, Cultivation in Space, Yearning, Reunions, Hurt/Comfort, Family Feels, Canon-Typical Violence, Minor Injuries, Grief/Mourning, Unconventional Time Travel, Burial Mounds)

Stars bring us apart (Stars pull us together) by Sixlayerhouse (sixlayerhouse) (E, 124k, WangXian, ChengSang, Hurt/Comfort, (Vaguely) Star Trek AU, Psychological Trauma, PTSD, Body modifications, Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Recovery, married!wangxian)

one hundred, twenty thousand, thirty million series by Mikkeneko (M, 160k, WangXian, JYL & WWX & JC, Non-Linear Narrative, Space, Science Fiction, Cybernetics, WWX's memory issues, Politics, Xianxia IN SPACE!, stranded in space in a broken spacesuit, Flashbacks, Canon-Typical Violence, Canon-typical flirting, Canon-Typical Pining, Implied/Referenced Torture, Angst, WWX Whump, Brain Damage, Head Injury, Burial Mounds, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, all offscreen though, first arc of the series on speedrun, Sunshot Campaign, Fun with Nanobots, War & Politics, WC and WX are both canon-typical pieces of shit, Blood and Torture, Artificial Intelligence, Supportive NMJ, Good Sibling JC, Traumatized WWX, it would be PTSD except it's ongoing, really cruel and unusual methods of killing, Space Horror, Space Opera, Competent JYL, Aftermath of Torture, hand-holding, Heterosexual Soup Drama, Bath Sex, handjobs)

🔒 when we end the war by spookykingdomstarlight (E, 41k, WangXian, Science Fiction, Psychics/Psionics, Robots & Androids, Intimacy, Artificial Intelligence, Science Fantasy, POV Multiple, Major Character Injury, Canon Temporary Character Death, Glove Kink, Fingers In Mouths, Getting Back Together, Self-Sacrifice, Strangers to Lovers to Estranged Lovers to Lovers Again, LWJ is a psychic, WWX is resurrected in an android body (it's complicated), Background space politics because wangxian get to sit out space sunshot, Dubious Science, dubious medical ethics, Sexual Dysfunction, Sometimes a family is an exiled psychic an android and their AI-enabled house, What do you do when your dead boyfriend shows up and he's a robot, Mild Breathplay, Murder by a technicality, Is it still breathplay once one of the characters doesn't have to breathe?, In the background Cangse Sanren and Wei Changze are still alive because I say so)

🔒 when the sun goes out by travelingneuritis (E, 176k, WangXian, Modern AU, Modern Cultivation, tech cultivation, Necromancy, Angst with a Happy Ending, insecurity around adoption, Dad!WWX, dad!lwj, Grief/Mourning, Mistaken Identity, Mood Whiplash, Body Swap, sex tears!, Falling In Love, Consensual Somnophilia, apocalypse (localized), Smut, unrealistic sexual stamina, Flashbacks, Time Skips, Illustrations) Not to sound like a broken record but I will never tire of reccing "when the sun goes out" by travelingneuritis -- in this case, for it's excellent modern AU cultivation politics and Weird Shit Going On in the Burial Mounds

~*~

13. Heya!

I'd love a fic with a heavily featured Huaisang in the role of bestie, either to WY or LWJ. I'd prefer only complete works, but don't mind setting otherwise. He just never gets enough screentime for me :(

KILF (Knits I’d Like To Fuck in) by ScarlettStorm (E, 168k, WangXian, Modern AU, Established Relationship, Porn, onlyfans au, sex worker WWX, Fashionista LWJ, in this house we support sex workers, Fluff and Smut, they're horny and in love, mental health, therapy is good actually, Domestic Bliss, tender kink, Fiber Arts, autistic LWJ, neurodivergent WWX, switch rights, Nonbinary NHS, a soupçon of gender, get in losers we're introspecting about queerness, Genderfluid Character, Gender Exploration, Hurt/Comfort, past trauma, But They're Working Through It, aggressive mutual caretaking, 2nd in series, [Podfic] KILF (Knits I'd Like To Fuck in) by shash_reads (sunkitten_shash))

🔒 your problem as a mountain. by cupofwater (E, 31k, WangXian, WWX & NHS, Epistolary, Canon Divergence, No Sunshot Campaign, Getting Together, Misunderstandings, Pen Pals, Erotica Pen Pal Book Club, One-Sided LXC/NHS, NHS just thinks he's neat, Sexual Fantasy, sexual self-discovery, Smut, Letters, POV Alternating, WWX's Cottagecore Fantasies, Humor)

🔒 shades of grey spill from my veins (bleeding ink all over the page) by Reverie (cl410) (M, 58k, NMJ/LXC, wangxian, NHS/WN, POV NMJ, Canon Divergence, Joining the “Wei Wuxian raised by the Nie Sect” Club, Mentions of WWX’s life on the streets, Hurt/Comfort, Accidental Sibling Acquisition, Single Dad NMJ, NHS & WWX Friendship, Fluff, Humor, Happy Ending, Everyone Lives AU, Protective NMJ, Sunshot Campaign, Some angst, Blood and Injury, Kidnapping, Protective Siblings, Found Family)

Green-gege Saves a lot of Lives by Eternal_writes (T, 11k, WangXian, WWX & WN, WWX & WQ, YLLZ WWX, Burial Mounds Settlement Days, Burial Mounds Ensemble as Family, Wen Remnants Live, Everyone Lives, Soft NMJ, POV NMJ, POV WWX, Supportive NMJ, Protective NMJ, NMJ solves all the problems unintentionally, NHS Knows Everything, NHS's spies are talked about alot, NHS manipulates from the shadows like the best friend he fucking is, NHS & WWX Friendship, Sworn Brothers NHS & WWX & WN, BSSR makes a small appearance at the very end, Immortal BSSR is the best grandmother, Golden Core Reveal, JC & WWX Reconciliation, Good Sibling JC, Soft JC, WangXian Get a Happy Ending, WWX Lives, WWX Loves LWJ, WWX is not as oblivious as canon, WWX gets the help he deserves and his family back, Featuring WWX's inventions)

🔒 Serendipity by luckymoonly (T, 6k, WangXian, LJY/LSZ, Post-Canon, Accidental Baby Acquisition, Family Feels, The Juniors and their lack of knowledge of where babies actually come from, Fluff, First time parenting a baby, Mentions of WWX's canon mpreg kink, Adoption, WWX and NHS are BFF, Happy Ending)

while covered in mud by merthurlin (T, 12k, NHS & NMJ, NHS & WWX, NNHS & Wen Remnants, Canon Divergence, Fix-It, NHS Goes Farming And Hates It, Weird Horse Girl NMJ, NHS joins WWX's goth farming commune, and fixes everything)

history will call us wives by silvermarie (E, 17k, WangXian, JL & LSZ, JC & WWX, Arranged Marriage, Post-Canon, Family Feels NHS & WWX Friendship, NHS Knows Everything, Pining, Jealousy, Scheming NHS, using your shadow-broker level spy powers to hook up your friends, NHS is a bro, Misunderstandings, Family Drama, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fix-It of Sorts, Playing Your Friends Like Chess Pieces - the NHS Story, Requited Unrequited Love)

🔒 the language of flowers and silent things series by Reverie (cl410) (M, 107k, WangXian, LXC/NMJ, LWJ & Madam Lan, NHS & LWJ, LWJ & LXC, LWJ & NMJ, LWJ & NHS Friendship, Developing Relationship, POV LWJ, Minor Injuries, Autistic LWJ, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, aka the YZY warning, Genius WWX, Light Angst And Hurt/Comfort, WWX Protection Squad, Gusu Lan Sect, Slow Burn, Protective LWJ, LWJ-centric, Politics, Canon Divergence, No Sunshot Campaign, Cultivation Sect Politics, Protective WWX) features a Lan Wangji who is cursed to hear when people tell lies, which is a truth spell of sorts

~*~

14. Heyo, once again, its me. Are there any really like heavy HEAVY Wei ying fics like that deal with a lot of trauma and his fear of dogs and Lan Wangji is there for him and maybe the juniors? Thank you and have a great Christmas eve😁 @yasssbassss

🔒 Life is Like a Stranger by through_shadows_falling (T, 69k, wangxian, Kid Fic, Child LWJ, Child WWX, First Meetings, Canon Divergence, Cute Kids, Orphan WWX, Autism Spectrum, Fix-It, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Alternate Canon, POV LWJ, Growing Up Together, WWX raised at Cloud Recesses, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Puberty, Growing Up, Coming Out, teenage angst, Wet Dream, Pining, This fic gets a little raunchier as the kids become teens, But it won’t get too explicit, Slow Burn, Friends to Lovers, Spanish Translation, Brief mentions/moments of WWX kissing others in chapter 22 but only on the cheek, also characters kiss WWX on the cheek in chapter 23, but his real first kiss is with LWJ, Пе��евод на русский | Translation in Russian) these aren't really heavy fics but address Wei Ying's fear of dogs

❤️ in case of fire, break glass by Jenrose (T, 65k, WangXian, Time Travel Fix-It, Post-Canon, Canon Divergence, Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, unless I hate them, BAMF WWX, BAMF LWJ, Genius Inventor WWX, NHS Finds His Calling, No Women Die) these aren't really heavy fics but address Wei Ying's fear of dogs

Five Dogs, One Cat by ryfkah (G, 13k, JC & WWX, Accidental Dog Acquisition, taken to an extremea classic 5+1 fic, Background WangXian) these aren't really heavy fics but address Wei Ying's fear of dogs

🔒🧡 rain falls and soaks into the earth series by RoseThorne (T, 60k, WangXian, WIP, Near Death Experience, Attempt Drowning, Madam Yu Bashing, Recovery, No war AU)

See Me, Feel Me (Listening to You) by Ghost_Honey (T, 29k, WangXian, POV WWX, WWX Needs a Hug, WWX’s Abyssmal Self-Esteem, Emotional Healing, Angst, The Juniors love their Senior Wei, Curses, WWX is an Unreliable Narrator, JC & WWX Reconciliation, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Platonic Cuddling)

Scars of Lightning by The_peregrine_falcon (T, 6k, YZY & WWX, WWX & WRH, WangXian, YZY’s A+ Parenting, Canon Divergence, Not Canon Compliant, Wen WWX, zidian, YZY is a bitch, Canon-Typical Violence, Blood and Injury, Major Character Injury, Heavy Angst, Lotus Pier, Nightless City, Young WWX, Muteness, Hurt kind of comfort)

🔒💖 in payment, a hand series by justdoityoufucker (M, 10k, WangXian, JC & JYL & JFM & YZY, Canon Divergence, Fall of Lotus Pier, Pre-Sunshot Campaign, Amputation, Injury Recovery, Graphic Depictions of Illness, Self-Reflection, Families of Choice, Not Jiang Clan Friendly, Physical Abuse, Love Confessions, First Kiss, Abusive YZY, Not for Madam Yu fans, Post-Sunshot Campaign, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Dysfunctional Family, Canon Jiang Family Relationships, Weddings)

🔒 Without end by barisan (M, 69k, WIP, WangXian, Time Travel, Suicide Attempt, Hurt/Comfort, Depressed WWX, Good Uncle LQR, Bad Parent YZY, Bad Parent JFM, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, PTSD, Panic Attacks, Yunmeng Jiang bashing, Sentient Resentful energy, Medical inaccuracies)

Lucky to have a sister by Beginner9to5 (T, 50k, WIP, WangXian, WWX & WN, WWX & WQ, WWX & Wen Remnants, LQR & WWX, WN & WQ, WWX & NHS, NHS & WQ, NHS & WN, Time Travel Fix-It, No Golden Core Transfer, Burial Mounds Ensemble as Family, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, WWX Leaves the Yunmeng Jiang Sect, Canon Divergence, No resurrection, Failed soul summoning, Protective WQ, Good Sibling WQ, WQ is So Done, Adoptive Parent WWX, Protective NHS, Inventor WWX, Protective LWJ, Protective LXC, Jiang Family Bashing, JC Bashing, Hurt WWX, Scheming NHS, Bad Parents JFM & YZY, JC Has Issues, Homophobia, Morally Gray LWJ)

~*~

15. Hii, can you recommend some fics around like wei wuxian's protection squad where everyone is really protective of him. But he doesn't have any regards over his own health and wellbeing and always keeps on convincing everybody else he's fine when he isn't? I just want to read wei wuxian getting all the love he deserves (even if he thinks he doesn't deserve it). No jiang sibling bashing pleasee, i want to see some yunmeng bros moments, but bashing the parents are fine. Angst is definitely welcome but only with happy endings. @scorpionical

bespoke by cafecliche (G, 3k, WangXian, Post-Canon, Fluff, LSZ is a very good boy, which is specifically a tag for the fic but also just true in general)

one of our own by glitteringmoonlight (G, 7k, WangXian, Post-Canon, POV Outsider, 5+1 Things)

Revenge is a Side Dish Best Served With Tea by merakily (G, 7k, WangXian, LQR & LWJ, JC & LWJ, JL & LWJ, Post-Canon, Canon Compliant, Protective LWJ, Petty LWJ, Fluff and Humor, LWJ walks around using tea as his modus operandi for revenge)

Rotten Work by ShanaStoryteller (Not rated, 63k, wangxian, JL & WWX, post-canon, Protective WWX, Protective JL, POV JL, JC & WWX Reconciliation, eventually, Reluctant Matchmaker JL, this kid is doing his best, Pre-JL/LJY if you squint)

🔒 The Absolutely True Story of the Yiling Patriarch: A Manifesto in Many Parts by aubreyli (T, 19k, WangXian, In-Universe RPF, Romance Novel, LJY’s sense of justice, OYZZ’s sense of romance, Featuring a surprise appearance by WWX’s oft-absent sense of shame, Look the ducklings just want their sort-of dads to be happy okay?, And it’s not like WWX or LWJ are doing a good job of ensuring their own happiness, LJY rejects canon reality and substitutes his own, highly relatable actually, Post-Canon Fix-It, primarily drama-canon with cameos from novel-canon, Podfic Available, Russian Translation Available)

the stone-filled sea by yukla (T, 9k, LSZ & WWX, LSZ & LWJ, WangXian, Post-Canon, senior wei defense squad, a study of the way prejudice and injustice and anger trickle down from generation to generation, [Podfic] the stone-filled sea by yukla by Beria1021, the stone-filled sea [Podfic] by BrickGrass)

🔒Cultivating immortality by KizuKatana (E, 231k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Rogue Cultivator WWX, Mutual Pining, BAMF WWX, BAMF LWJ, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, unreliable narrator, Found Family, First Time, novel canon relationship dynamics)

~*~

16. hello!! so I just really got in a/b/o, so I wanna ask for some of your favourite a/b/o fics :))

For the request for a good selection of quality a/b/o fics for #16, I just shared a list on X of some of my (many) bookmarked titles

and the calm is deep where the quiet waters flow by izanyas (M, 303k, WangXian, off-screen rape, oppression, violence, sexual assault, grief/mourning, unwanted pregnancy)

🧡 Don't Wanna Fall by nekojita (M, 111k, WangXian, Mpreg, A/B/O, Fix-it, Lots of pining, Angst with a happy ending, Canon Divergence, Child thief WN)

🧡 in flagrante delicto by synonemous (E, 39k, WangXian, Modern AU, Serial killer WangXian, A/B/O, Mpreg, Smut, Wangxian's Canon Kinks, Modern Yi City arc, Angst with a happy ending)

🧡 OMEGA GRAD STUDENT GETS PREGNANT: YOU'LL NEVER GUESS WHAT HAPPENS NEXT by attackofthezee (noxlunate) (E, 21k, WangXian, Modern AU, A/B/O, Omega WWX, Alpha LWJ, Graduate School, Unplanned Pregnancy, San Francisco Bay Area, Pining, Falling In Love, Kid Fic, Fluff, WWX gets pregnant by an unnamed character that's only briefly mentioned)

~*~

17. Hi! This is for ITMF. A bitter WWX fic? Well, not exactly bitter. But more that he swallow his anger and say it didnt affect him but in fact it did affect him. And then someone (LWJ) say or did something wrong too many times to WWX that he finally snapped. Thanks! @idontknowwhattowriteforusername

the dock of the bay by Haysel matches this. It's deleted, but available on the Wayback Machine

~*~

If you didn’t get an answer to your ask here, don’t forget to make use of @mdzs-kinkmeme and MDZS KINK MEME on Dreamwidth. Authors actually do use them for ideas. You may get what you order!***Your prompt doesn’t have to be kink! Fluff, crack, whatever - it’s all good!***

#wangxian #mdzs #wangxian fic recs #i'm in the mood for a fic #the untamed #wangxian fic search #wangxianficfinder #long post

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lilghostiequinni · 11 months ago

Text

Better than Great & More than Deserving

Main Masterlist Lando Masterlist

Pairing: Mom! Finacee!female reader x Lando Norris

Warnings: Fluffy,

Summary: Lando wins the 2025 Driver Championship at Abu Dabi.

Requested: NO / yes

You know the struggles Lando has been through with his mental health.

You know how his brain works overtime against him sometimes.

Your two-year-old son and 6-month-old daughter, both adore their father, and you adore your fiancee.

You can turn off those thoughts in his mind but can only keep them at bay for so long after he's gone for a race.

In the race at Abu Dabi, the last race of the season, Lando had won just by a few milliseconds.

It put him ahead of Max in the championship standings, and he just couldn't believe it.

Don't get him wrong, it was amazing to win another race, but he was in a fair bit of shock, too; he honestly wasn't expecting to win for the championship.

He runs to his little family after he takes off his helmet and just holds you in his arms. You can feel the tears on your shoulder.

"It's okay. You are more than deserving of the win; just ask Max, and he will agree." You hold him as you run your fingers through his sweaty hair.

He kisses your forehead and then your lips before hugging your two children and handing you your daughter after giving her a hug and taking her from his mum.

You run your free hand through the curls on the side of his head before pulling your hand forward and letting it rest on his cheek.

Lando then has to go and finish up his post-race duties.

Max does tell Lando that he deserves the win and the championship.

Lando makes his way back to you after media, and you hug him again, "You are better than great; you deserve this."

Lando just pulls you closer to him in his arms, hugging you tighter and kissing your cheek, then your lips.

A/N: From this poll, it was tied for first.

Tags: @poppyflower-22 @samantha-chicago @barcelonaloverf1life @tallrock35 @ellen3101 @llando4norris @mcmuppet @issi-loves-dannyric @1800-love-me @barcelonaloverf1life @hellothere9597

If you want to be removed from a tag list, let me know so I don't keep tagging you. If you are striked through, I don't know if you want to be tagged, but just let me know if you want me to continue or stop

#f1 #formula 1 #ln4 #lando norris #mclaren #lando norris imagine #lando norris x reader #lando imagine #lando norris fanfic #lando norris fluff #lando norris x oc #lando norris x you #lando x reader #ln4 imagine #ln4 x reader #ln4 fic #ln4 fluff

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oharaslove · 4 months ago

Note

Heyyy

I love your stories so so much

I was wondering if you could do one where reader and Miguel love each other so much but reader moved abroad.

They both stayed in touch getting intimate in the beginning but after a while he started dating readers friend

Reader is devastated when she finds out and distances herself from him.

Theyy reconnect online and they both find out that they’ve been yearning for each other all that time and they have spicy time together over the phone .

They both feel guilty because Miguel is still with readers friend and they decide to speak online every so often because they both genuinely don’t want to be away from each other .

My theory for them is that they’re endgame but life put them apart for a while as a way to learn ( reader is anxiously attached and Miguel is avoidant)

Feel free to freestyle

Thank you 🩷

Hi anon!!! I'm so glad you like my stories!!! I'm so sorry it took me so long to get to this, but I hope that the wait is worth it.

This is so spicy, I like it hehehe. I mean, obviously I don't condone cheating in any way, but like come on. One, we know Miguel is canonically a cheater (comic Miguel I'm looking at you), and Two, girl, what did you expect dating your bf's ex-boyfriend? Honestly, I would lose all respect for my friend if she ever did this, so fuck her hahaha.

Anyway... let's get into it!

Summary: You and Miguel used to date but life pulled you apart. What happens when after not talking for months you two reconnect online? Word count: 6.2k Tags: MiguelxFem!Reader, Miguel O'hara AU, cheater!Miguel O'hara (Reader's friend is a bitch, so whatever), Phone sex Warnings: Cheating (obvs), Masturbation (fem and male), dirty talk all over the place.

✎masterlist✎ ✎AO3✎

𝕮𝖆𝖑𝖑𝖘 𝖎𝖓 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝕯𝖆𝖗𝖐

You don’t value what you have until you lose it. That’s what everyone says, right?

Well, in the same way, you don’t realize how much you love someone until he is more than 5,000 kilometers away. How your heart yearns for him, getting goosebumps in your skin when you remember how he used to touch you. Kiss you.

But, can all that love survive distance? Time differences? Can a person madly in love, with the need to hold its partner close every chance they have, keep going back to the person who constantly avoids them?

You and Miguel were highschool sweethearts. You loved him with all your heart, and you knew he loved you too. You just… had different ways of expressing it.

While you were always trying to be by his side, shower him with love and appreciation, Miguel sometimes avoided you. Not entirely. Is not like he would see you in a corridor and pass right through you without even saying ‘Hi’, but more in the way of you wanting to spend every free time you had together, while he preferred other things.

You always wondered why it was, but after learning about his upbringing, everything became clear. Miguel didn’t think he was capable of love, he never thought he deserved it. Deserve you.

You understood, or at least tried to. Although, it didn’t help that Miguel wasn’t communicative. If you thought you weren’t capable of being loved, you would like the other person to show you that you were wrong, that it was okay. That you could be appreciated. Loved. Be taken care of.

But Miguel…. Well, it worked out, you don’t know how, but you two worked out. You didn’t want to leave him, because you loved him, and he didn’t want to leave you because, even though he always thought you deserved better, he was selfish. He wanted you, and no one else could have you.

Everything came tumbling down when you graduated. Miguel and you were the best of your class. While he decided to stay in Nueva York and continue his studies in Alchemax school, you had other plans.

No one knew about them, not even Miguel. With how possessive but at the same time avoidant that he was, you didn’t want to tell him.

You wanted, no, needed this. It was your dream, and even though you loved your boyfriend and would trust him with anything, you felt like letting him know would bring to a stop your plans. Sour them and your mood. And even… your relationship.

Of course, that happened eventually.

You got what you wanted. To study abroad. Oxford had given you the opportunity to have an interview with them, and you took it. You didn’t expect anything from them, didn’t think you would hear back from college, but you did.

You got in, but at what cost?

It was mid June. You were hanging out with Miguel when you got the call. You two were having a picnic in Central Park, the last few places with green in the stoic city. Your head was laying in his chest, his arms around you. The last time you had felt them hold you, the last time you had felt his warmth against your body.

You didn’t recognize the number, but you answered anyway, having a gut feeling that it was important. You sat up, your attention fully on the caller. Miguel watched you, his face puzzled.

“Yes, yes, thank you!” you said excitedly. “I’ll be there. Thank you again for the opportunity.”

You hung up the phone smiling. You could feel happy tears in your eyes.

“Job offer, preciosa?” guessed Miguel, reaching to play with your hair.

Right! Miguel. He didn’t know.

“I–” you bit your lip. “Not exactly”

“So…. college?”

You breathed in deeply. “Yeah… umm” you looked down, playing with the hem of your shirt. “It… it was Oxford. I.. I got in” You looked to the side, avoiding his gaze.

You could feel Miguel’s stare in the side of your face. A minute went by, neither of you spoke or moved. The air was thick, you were finding it hard to breathe. You knew that hell would break loose at any moment.

“Oxford?” Miguel said in disbelief, sitting up slowly. Resting his body weight on his arms.

Here we go…

“Yes.”

“Oxford?!” Miguel said louder. “As in Oxford, England?”

You pressed your mouth shut. Your silence was enough to answer the question.

“I can’t believe you” Miguel stood up in a second, turning his back to you. You still didn’t dare to look at him.

You could hear Miguel muttering words in Spanish. Some you couldn’t decipher, but they were mostly curses, which you didn’t know if they were directed to you.

Miguel ran his hand through his hair. He turned around.

“You are moving abroad?” he asked, breaking the silence.

“Yes” you said, barely above a whisper.

“Look at me. If you have the guts to leave me behind, at least have the balls to stare at my face.”

You didn’t move.

“Look at me!” he shouted with.. Fury? Disbelief? Betrayal? You didn’t know, and you didn’t want to find out.

You looked at him reluctantly. Tears pricking your eyes.

“Oh, don’t you dare,” he said, greeting his teeth, pointing at you. “Don’t you dare cry. You are the one leaving.”

You stood up, anger now bubbling inside of you.

“Yes, and what?”

“And what?!”

“Yes, what?” you repeated. “You knew this was my dream. Or you would have if you cared.”

“You think I don’t care?”

“Sometimes it feels like that”

“Well, I do care. You aren’t leaving.” he stated.

“Excuse you?!”

“You heard me” he crossed his arms in front of his chest.

“That is not your decision to make. This is my life. Mine,” you pointed to your chest. “Not yours” you shoved your index finger in his chest.

“I’m your boyfriend. Don’t I have a say in this?”

“Did I have a say in your college decision? No! So you don’t either”

“That’s not even fair! I stayed in Nueva York, you are leaving!” he grabbed the sides of his head, as if not believing you are arguing against him. “And I’m not talking about leaving the state. You are leaving the country!”

You bit your lip. He had a point, and you knew it.

“We can work things out” You mumbled, searching for his eyes. Those beautiful brown orbs you learned to love.

“Work things out…?” he repeated slowly. “Work things out” he left out a sarcastic laugh turning around and running a hand through his face. “And how do you expect us to do that, huh?”

“I don’t know, but–” you stammered.

“You don’t know,” he laughed again. He placed his hands on his hips, giving you a full view of his back muscles. “So much for someone who got into Oxford”

“What’s that supposed to mean”

“Nothing. Forget it. Forget me for that matter” Quickly he turned around and grabbed his jacket from the floor, putting it on.

“Miguel, wait!” you begged. “Let’s talk about this. Please!”

“There’s nothing to talk about. You already decided for the both of us. Goodbye” He grabbed the rest of his things and left, and you just stared as his figure became smaller and smaller, walking towards the horizon.

Your feet were glued to the floor, you couldn’t move. You looked at the spot where he had just been for what felt like hours, before crumbling down to the floor, crying. Tears came down like a river, wetting your cheek and running down your jaw. Sobs broke out of your mouth. You curled in a ball on the floor, clutching your stomach.

What have you done?

The next few weeks after the fight with Miguel went by in a blur. You wished you could say that with all the packing and planning you weren’t thinking of Miguel, but that would be a lie. Everything reminded you of him. His clothes in your closet, the gifts he made you through the years that you always kept, pictures, memories. Everything.

You thought that Oxford was all you ever wanted, but… your heart was aching for Miguel. You wanted to call him, cry, beg him for a chance to make things right. If you had told him from the beginning, would things have turned out differently? You hoped so.

You knew Miguel loved you, and he would understand. But you did things wrong, and you couldn’t blame him for avoiding you; for being angry and feeling betrayed. Hell, you would probably feel the same if things were the other way around. Though, you also needed him to answer one of your calls. You yearned for him.

You wanted to hear his voice, at least one last time before leaving.

You heard a knock in your front door, but you didn’t pay much attention to it. You knew your mom would answer it, you weren’t expecting anything anyway. So, you carried on packing the things you wanted to take with you to the U.K.

“Darling!” your mom called. “Could you come down for a second?”

You huffed. You knew that if you stopped now, you would take a long rest and not finish till tomorrow. But your mom’s voice seemed urgent, so you decided to go down.

“Coming!” you called, using the back of your hand to clean the sweat on your brow.

You rushed down the stairs, but stopped dead in your tracks seeing the person standing in front of the front door.

“Miguel?” you said in disbelief.

“I’ll leave you to it.” your mom said, sending a smile your way.

You continued going down the remaining steps, slowly this time, eyeing Miguel. You wanted to cry and jump into his arms, but you held back. His body language wasn’t of someone who was happy to see you again. He had his hands in his back pockets, his gaze avoiding yours.

“Hi,” he said.

“Hi,” you answered, scanning his face.

He breathed in and exhaled deeply, brazing himself for the conversation ahead.

“I’m sorry for the way I reacted last time, I–” he started.

“It’s okay,” you cut him off. “I would have reacted the same way. I don’t blame you.”

At that, he met your eyes, and gave you a tight smile.

“Is that all?” you said, hopeful. You hoped he was there to tell you that you could work things out. Yeah, it was a lot of distance, but your love could stand it, or so you thought.

“No, I–” he bit his lip, looking down, shuffling his feet. “I’ve been thinking…”

“About?”

“Us” he stared at you again, his eyes burning holes in your own.

“Us?”

“Yes, I– I thought about what you said. About working things out, and… I don’t know if we can”

Your heart shattered at the words. What, what did he mean? Was he breaking up with you?

“Oh?” you hugged yourself, suddenly feeling cold.

“Is not that I don’t love you. I do!” His arms reached for you, but stopped halfway. He clenched his fists, pressing his eyes shut. “It's because I'm doing this.”

“Doing what? Breaking up?” you asked in disbelief.

“Yes prec–” he cut himself off. “Yes. We will be busy with college and all. Plus the time difference. You will be better off without me.”

You scoffed, you couldn’t believe him.

“You said I was deciding for the both of us,” you looked away. “Looks like you are doing the same”

“It is for the best,” he shifted, looking to meet your eyes. “You need someone to be there for you. I can’t be that someone.”

You sniffled, tears now running down your cheeks. You didn’t even realized when you began crying.

You wiped the tears with the back of your hand. “We can still be friends, right?”

“Of course. We’ll text when we can”

“Okay”

Silence consumed the space between the two of you. You continued staring at the wall, while feeling Miguel’s eyes on you.

“Alright.” he said, placing his hands in his pockets. “Have a safe flight”

“Thanks” you said, kind of bitterly.

Miguel opened his mouth, trying to say something else, but he closed it, without uttering a sound. He turned around, opened the door and left, leaving you there trying to process what just happened.

You’ve been a fool thinking Miguel was going to go with you to the airport to see you off. Your heart had wished, even though your head knew he wasn’t going to show. Your friends were there, telling you what a stupid asshole he was. That you would find a cute, handsome British man in no time and you wouldn’t think about Miguel. Not even for a second.

You wanted to believe them. Laughed at their jokes, at their attempts to make you feel better. But, deep down, you knew Miguel was more than just a mere boyfriend. He was so much more, and you didn’t think you would get over him in a long, long time. And, a selfish part of you, hoped he wouldn’t get over you either. You, foolishly, yearned for the idea of meeting up again. Destiny was going to put you in his path again, and you would live happily forever. It didn’t matter when, just that it would happen.

So, you boarded the plane with that idea in mind. The dream intensified when, before activating airplane mode, you received a text from Miguel.

Miguel ❤️ ---Safe flight

That single text fueling your deep desires.

As Miguel promised, well not promised per se, but agreed, you two texted, when it was possible. Unfortunately, as he predicted, you two were busy. The first month went well, texting and calling almost three times a week. Even… some calls turn into some heated things. Neither of you wanted to address it, but those weren’t friends calls. They were something else.

You didn’t mind though. That was what you wanted. You never wanted to break up, so it was perfect. Still, there was a barrier. You knew Miguel wasn’t your boyfriend, and 90% of the time, you didn’t treat him or talk to him like he was, but during those calls… it seemed like you were back in highschool. Everything was so present, so vivid in your mind.

However, the semester’s became harder. More and more assignments, tests, projects. You could barely keep up with your social life in London, let alone with the few friends you had back in the States. So, the calls were no more. Conversations fell short. Texting from time to time, when you found the time. Sometimes, not even in real time, given the different time zones.

It was no surprise when you had no contact at all with Miguel. You never reached him, and he didn’t try to reach you. You only knew what was happening back home with the occasional story he posted on Instagram.

Your friends kept in contact though. You texted from time to time, and they were more active on Instagram, so you could comment on their posts and reply to their stories. One of them, really sheepishly, told you she was seeing someone. You didn’t understand why at the time, maybe because your break up with Miguel was really fresh, which was nice of her. But she was your best friend, of course you would be happy for her despite your own heartbreak.

You tried to pry information out of her, but she never relented. She was really secretive, which turned on an alarm in the back of your brain, but you trusted her, so you brushed it off.

What you didn’t expect was her hard launching the mysterious man on Instagram. First, the betrayal of not telling your best friend first, before telling the whole world, basically. Secondly, the man was Miguel. Your Miguel.

The Miguel she knew you were still in love with. The same man who broke your heart, who you hoped would never get over you. The love of your life. Tears ran down your cheeks seeing the post. His hands, the same hands that once couldn’t detach themselves from your flesh, were now around her body. His smile was as bright as you remembered, but now looking down at her, with the same look you knew all too well.

He got over you so quickly. Your head couldn’t comprehend why. Your body didn’t know how to feel. Sad. Betrayed. Angry. Everything came crashing down at once. All you could do was block them from every socials, not wanting to say something that you would regret someday.

And so, all your friendships and love from home was gone.

You tried to continue your life like nothing happened, but it was hard. Every time your mom or dad texted you, you were reminded of the things occurring back home. Your mind is wondering how your friend and Miguel were doing. Did he treat her the same way as he did with you? Did he see you when looking at her?

You would be lying if you said those thoughts weren’t consuming you. Draining the little amount of energy you had left after University. You barely went out. Your friends here begged you to go with them to a club. They didn’t know the whole story, but they could sense something was bothering you. And, what better remedy than getting shitfaced and maybe making out with a stranger. That would for sure get your mind off Miguel, or so you thought.

So, you gave it a try one day. Before going to the club, you met up with your friends to get ready, and start drinking, of course. You had never drank before, so after a few shots, you were already tipsy, which wasn’t a good combination with the turmoil of emotions that were bubbling inside of you. Waiting for the moment to come out. Explode.

And they did. Blame it on the alcohol, on the misery, on the jealousy maybe. But your mind had no better idea than unblock Miguel and put him in your close friends list. You never really posted much, but that day you wanted to show everything. And you meant everything. Even the guy… What was his name again? Oh, you didn’t remember, but it really didn’t matter.

You were drunk, but not that much. You really didn’t plan to go back to his place. You just danced with him a little, filming it for your story. What were you looking for? You don’t even know. Is not like you were hoping Miguel would get jealous. No, not at all.

But, you didn’t expect to kiss this guy. He made the move, and you didn’t back away. Your brain was too hazy to react in time. The kiss wasn’t unpleasant, per say, but your mind wandered back to Miguel. How his full lips felt against yours, his taste. And the one you were feeling right now wasn’t his. You pulled back, pushing at his chest, gasping.

“I’m sorry” you said, loudly so he could hear you above the music. You ran out, the club feeling suffocating. You could hardly breathe. Your eyes weren’t able to focus properly. As best as you could, you texted one of your friends, letting them know you were okay.

“This was such a bad idea” you mumbled under your breath, once you had calmed down. The cold air hit your face, getting you out of that foggy state. You groaned, only imagining the hangover you were going to have tomorrow, soured your spirits.

You debated between walking back to your dorm or taking a cab. You weren’t too far off, and the walk could help you clear your head. So you went by foot. You tried to be alert as possible, but everything seemed quiet. Great. More time between you and your confused thoughts. What the hell were you thinking? Maybe that was the issue. You weren’t.

Your train of thoughts was cut off by a notification on your phone. Thinking it was your friends replying to your text or asking where you were, you looked. It wasn’t. It was an Instagram DM from none other than Miguel.

Your feet froze. Fuck.

What were you supposed to do now? You didn’t know why you had unblocked him in the first place. A part of you just wanted to run, block him again and get him out of your life. He deserved it. How dare he date one of your friends?

However, the most sentimental part of your being wanted him back. As you said, he was the love of your life, and part of you still believed it. You chewed on the inside of your cheek. You knew that if you answered… there was no going back. For better or for worse.

You opened Instagram, checking your DMs. Miguel had replied to one of the stories of your close friends. It was the one of you dancing with that guy. Ugh, just the thought of his lips against yours made you want to vomit.

The text read: “Hope you had fun”

You furrowed your eyebrows. Were you reading too much into it, or was he jealous? No. No, he couldn’t. Miguel had no right. He was taken. Why would he? But, what if he was? You decided to test the waters.

You “I did! As much as you are having with “

Your fingers froze. Writing her name felt…wrong. So you just settled with:

You “I did! As much as you are having with her” Miguel It isn’t much then

Oh. Oh. He was jealous. You giggled to yourself. This was so wrong, but it felt so right. You could feel the butterflies in your stomach as the first day you had talked to Miguel.

You Well… you are right. He was nothing compared to you.

You knew the implications the text had. You just kissed, but you were hoping Miguel thought you had done something else. You were throwing fuel to a fire, and you knew it. But, what could go wrong?

Miguel Unblock me, now. I need to call you.

Shit. You weren’t expecting this.

Give me a second.

You rushed to your dorm. Excitement cursing through your whole body. Could this be one of those calls. The calls you had in September? Where you were just friends, but didn’t behave quite like it. You sure were hoping so.

You fumbled with the keys to your door. Your frenzy state prevented you from functioning properly. You managed to open the door, rushing inside and closing it behind you. You rested your back and head against it, catching your breath. Your chest was going up and down rapidly. You didn’t know if it was from the sprint you just did or the anticipation.

You pulled out your phone, unblocking Miguel’s number.

Just a few seconds later, you saw his name pop up on your screen. He was calling. This was it. You swallowed heavily, sweat running down your neck, sending chills down your spine. Stay calm, you thought, it is just a call.

You answered, placing your phone in your year.

“Hello?” you mumbled.

“Hola preciosa” he said, his voice deep and raspy. It was late in the States too, maybe he was in his bed. Oh, how you wish he was. FUCK.

“Princesa?”

“Oh, yeah…” you cleared your throat. “Yeah, I’m here”

He chuckled.

“How are you?”

“Fine” You said, trying to sound as normal as possible. Even though you weren’t fine, not at all.

“You sure?” he taunted.

What did he want you to say? No, Miguel, I miss you so so much, every day apart from you is hell. You weren’t going to fall that hard. The tone of his voice made your anger come out. The one emotion you repressed for so long.

“What do you want me to say Miguel? That I’ve missed you?” You spat, probably with more venom that you had intended.

The other end of the line went silent. Good. It gave you time to think. To regain your composure.

You started pacing in front of your bed. Thank god you didn’t have a roommate. This situation would be so uncomfortable to explain.

You could hear Miguel’s thoughts from across the phone. His breathing, how he exhaled from his mouth. He was opening it and closing it for sure, not knowing what to say. You bit your fingernails, waiting. You were about to cry, you could feel the sting behind your eyes. Your lip wobbling.

“I’m an asshole” He stated, breaking the silence.

“This is why you wanted to call?” You laughed. “To tell me things I already know?”

“Yes, No, No!” Miguel hurried. “I… I wanted to hear your voice. I needed it” He finished, barely above a whisper, as too embarrassed to let it out.

“Well, now you have. Bye Miguel”

“Wait! Please,” he cried. “I miss you”

You bit your lip, the words ‘I miss you too’ threatening to escape out. A single tear rolled down your cheek. The dam was about to break. You didn’t know how much more you could stop the inevitable.

“I–” your mouth felt dry. You could sense Miguel at the other end of the line waiting, expecting, hoping you felt the same. “Miguel…”

“You don’t have to say anything. I just–”

“I miss you too” you cried, tears running down your face now, the water breaking the barriers. You weren’t even bothering to hide your sniffling and your trembling voice.

“Shhh baby. I didn’t want to make you cry.”

“It’s okay,” you sniffled. “I just… I just wish you were here.”

“Me too preciosa”

“You don’t mean that”

“Yes I–”

“No you don’t!” you screamed, probably waking up your neighbours. “You don't,” you repeated softly. “You are with… with her now. She is–”

“Nothing” Miguel finished your sentence for you. “She is nothing compared to you.”

“Then why?”

“I was desperate. Clinging to the thought of you.”

“So you decided to date my friend?”

“I said I was an asshole didn’t I” he laughed, trying to ease the tension.

“You are more than that”

“I know. I’m sorry. I really didn’t mean to hurt you.”

Now it was your turn to laugh. “Yeah, well. That worked perfectly for you.”

“I’m sorry”

“It doesn’t matter how many times you say that. It doesn’t erase what you did.”

“I know”

“So what?” you hugged yourself, feeling vulnerable. “That’s all?”

“No. No it isn’t. There is something else.”

“What?” you said, rolling your eyes.

“Where are you?”

You looked around confused. “Why?”

“Just answer”

“My bedroom…?”

“Perfect” You heard some shuffling coming from the phone. “Lay in bed for me, would you?”

What? Why? You were perfectly comfortable talking on your feet. What exactly…

Oh. Oh.

“You said he was nothing like me, right? Well, you must be unsatisfied.”

Realization hit you like a train. You bit your lip to suppress a smile, failing. You giggled excitedly before jumping in bed and getting comfortable, kicking your shoes in the process.

“Someone’s excited”

“Oh shut up, as if you aren’t”

“Never said I wasn’t”

“For the record. I’m not unsatisfied. We didn’t do anything. Well, maybe just a little kiss.”

Miguel growled. Good. You liked teasing him a little.

“He shouldn’t have touched you. Any part of you.”

“Says the man touching someone else.”

“Would you drop that?”

“Would you drop her?” The words escaped your mouth before you could think about what you were saying. You covered your mouth with your hand, your eyes wide.

“For you?” Miguel asked. “I would do that and more.”

You smiled from behind your hand. You dropped your arm to your stomach.

“Prove it then”

“What are you wearing?” he asked, his voice somehow becoming lower.

“Oh please,” you teased. “As if you haven’t watched that story a billion times.”

He laughed.

“You caught me. You looked really pretty in that dress.”

“Mmm”

“Hike it up for me, past your hips”

Closing your eyes, you tried to imagine that the hands touching your body weren’t your own, but his. Hands you knew too well. Hands that knew your body inside out, that could coax sounds and reactions out of you as if it was second nature. It was difficult, his hands and yours were so different.

You missed them. His hands. His big, big hands. How only one of his fingers made you feel full. How he touched you, and you could feel how rough they were, a stark contrast against your skin. How they always seemed to be warm, no matter the temperature outside.

You pulled the hem of your dress up, arching your back, lifting your ass off the bed to make the job easier. Which wasn't easy to begin with given you were holding your phone with the other hand.

“I’m sure you look so pretty right now.” Miguel purred. “So beautiful, spread out for me. Right?”

“Yes Miguel” you breathed out.

“Mmm. Tell me, how wet are you?” He murmured

You didn’t even have to touch yourself to know. The minute you saw his name on your screen, arousal pooled in your panties.

“So wet Miggy. Only for you.”

He groaned at that. From the other end of the phone, you could hear some rustling. Sheets shifting, clothes being pulled down.

“Miggy…?”

“Si preciosa?”

“Are you–” you swallowed hard. “Are you touching yourself?”

“Not yet, but I plan to. Listening to your pretty sounds.”

The confirmation of what was about to happen made you clench your thighs together. You ran your free hand down your body. Starting from your neck, down the valley of your breasts over the fabric of your dress. You continued downwards, reaching the hem of your panties. You touched your clit through the fabric. The friction made you shiver. You let out a shaky breath.

“Uh uh uh, I didn’t say you could touch what’s mine.” Miguel said

“Please Miguel” you begged. At this point you didn’t care how you sounded, you needed him to let you touch yourself. To let you imagine it was him between your thighs. Miguel making you reach your orgasm. For a moment, you wanted to believe he was right there with you, not 5,000 km away.

“Spread your thighs,” Miguel instructed. “Ran your index finger through your center, above your panties.”

You did as you were told. Just a small touch, but you could feel electricity already sparkling. Your eyes were close, focusing on the sounds coming from the phone. Miguel’s quiet and for now, steady breath.

You applied more pressure, a moan slipping past your lips.

“Good” Miguel growled. “Pull them to the side, touch yourself baby.”

You moaned, embarrassingly so. Miguel groaned in return. Now, paying more attention to him, you could hear him stroking his dick. The sound unmistakable.

Carefully, you pulled your panties to the side, exposing your pussy to the cold air of the night. You gasped. Using your middle finger, while the other kept your panties in place, you stroked your whole, teasing yourself. The way you knew Miguel would.

You grinded against your finger as best as you could. It was difficult holding your phone with one hand and teasing yourself with the other. Also, the sounds Miguel was making from the other end of the phone were making you weak.

You remembered all so well. How he used to groan in your ear while making love to you. How his big hands roamed your body, groping everything on their paths. His mouth against the inside of your thighs, teasing you. Kisses going up and down, but never where you needed him the most.

“Miguel” you whined. You couldn’t resist. You felt like you could come untouched by just listening to him and the images on your head.

“Take the out hermosa” he breathed out. “Throw them to the floor.”

You stood up fast, your phone never leaving your ear. You were not about to miss the noises leaving Miguel’s lips. You pulled your panties down to your feet, kicking them out god knows where, before climbing back into bed.

“Please, let me touch myself.” you cried, desperate.

“Yes, do it!” He growled, his breathing becoming erratic. “Make circles on your clit, just the way I used to.”

You dropped your hand between your legs again. Your index and middle finger finding your clit, drawing tight circles on it. You tried to match Miguel’s pace as best as you could, from the sticky sounds you were getting.

“Mm.. Miguel” you moaned, throwing your head back against the pillow. “Feel so good”

“Yeah?”

“Mmm”

Your mouth fell open. Every sound was now free. You didn’t care who listened. What mattered was that Miguel was, and you were hearing him. You arched your back off the bed onto your hand.

“Like that baby?”

“Yeah” you whined

“Push a finger in, hmm? Do it for me”

You moaned, doing as he said. You circled your hole first, before pushing in. You were so wet and tight. Oh, how you wish Miguel was here so he could put his cock in, or fingers, or tongue. Whatever he could give you was better than your finger, but that had to do. You had to imagine it was him, that’s all.

You curled your finger, trusting upwards into your core. The palm of your hand rubbing against your clit.

“Miggy..”

“Add another finger, come on” He was close, you could tell. He sounded desperate, but so were you.

Your ring finger went with your middle finger, both curling inside. Your walls clenched around them. Your hips grinded against your fingers, wanting more, needing more. You went faster, rougher, trying to reach that spot inside than it seemed only Miguel managed to find.

A film of sweat covered your body. The sheets stuck to your flesh, overwhelming you. The smell of sex was in the air, as well as your desperate cries. Your toes curled, legs shaking, trapping your hand between them.

The palm of your hand continued rubbing against your nub. You jerked, the feeling overcoming you. Your trusts and grinding became desperate, trying to reach your orgasm. Miguel was groaning your name in your year. You could hear his hand stroking his dick. You could almost smell and taste his precum, how it must be pooling in his stomach. How his balls were probably tightening with each stroke. The prominent vein that went from the base to the tip. His tip so wet and red, begging to be inside of your pussy.

“Mi– Miggy”

“Si mi, ugh” he groaned. “Mi amor”

“I need to come”

“Wait for me baby, I’m close” He growled. “So close baby. Let me hear you”

“Miguel” you moaned.

Your legs were now shaking violently. Your vision blurred, all you could see was white. Your mind was clouded with pleasure, one you hadn’t felt in so long. You added a third finger, looking for the stretch Miguel’s cock provided.

You whined and cried, begging him to let you come all over your fingers. You pressed your palm of your hand against your clit, grinding against it harder, harsher. You could feel your juices coating your fingers and inner thighs. Running down your ass to the sheets, but you didn’t care.

“Cum for me hermosa, let me hear you scream.”

And so you did. The knot that had been forming in your lower stomach exploded. Your mouth fell slack, eyes rolling back. Your whole body tensed for a second before relaxing. Your fingers kept trusting, getting you through it. Your orgasm crashed over you like waves on a beach. You felt on fire, your whole body burning.

Miguel came seconds after you, He groaned and moaned in your ear, like all those months ago, back home. If you hadn't been so busy already cumming, you would have probably cum again just from the sounds he was making.

For what felt like hours, the only sounds you could hear were yours and Miguel’s heavy breathing. Your hand was still between your legs, the realisation of what you had just done hitting you. Yes you wanted this, and you enjoyed it but… He cheated on your friend, well ex-friend. She wronged you first, but still, you felt horrible.

“Preciosa?” Miguel mumbled, after catching his breath

“Mmm?”

“What are you thinking about? I can hear the wheels spinning from hear” he chuckled

“Mig–” you choked on your words, pulling your hand from between your legs. “What we did was wrong”

Silence.

You waited for a response.

Miguel exhaled. “Yes. But it felt right”

You gulped. He was right. “I know but–”

“No one has to know. It’s just between us. Please, I need you.” He begged. He used that tone that he knew you couldn’t resist.

“Miggy, I–”

“Please”

You closed your eyes. Breathe in, breathe out. Slowly. You weighed the consequences.

“Fine. We can keep doing this.”

“Great. I miss you”

“Miss you too. Sleep well Mig”

“Sleep well hermosa”

You hung up the phone, and that wouldn’t be the last time you finished a conversation with Miguel, lying on your bed with cum between your legs. It was wrong, but it felt right, and no one could take that away from you.

Translations:

Preciosa and Hermosa are basically the same thing, which is Beatiful. More accurately: Preciosa (Precious), Hermosa (Beautiful)

Princesa: Princess

Amor: Love

✎masterlist✎ ✎AO3✎

I hope this was worth it!! I really had fun writing this, more than I should have honestly.

I'm sorry if I deviated a little from the request. The writing took me to where it wanted. Hope you don't mind!

Again, I honestly hate cheating, but is fiction, so whatever. Besides, again, fuck the best friend bro, what the fuck was going through her head? (Again, not a reason to cheat, there isn't a justification, but bruh)

Anyway, hope you enjoy anon! and all the lovies who read this

118 notes · View notes

charmandabear · 2 years ago

Text

Office Hours - Chapter One

Summary:

Your colleague Dr. Ancunin is a smug condescending bastard and you can't stand him. But you also can't get him out of your head.

Pairing: Astarion/F!Reader Rating: E Word Count: 5.2k Tags/Warnings: unprotected p in v sex, creampie, no breeding kink, masturbation, vaginal fingering, vampire bites, modern au, college/university au, urban fantasy, enemies to lovers, like the briefest mention of suicide while talking about Hamlet

This would not exist without @zipzoomzaria's gorgeous glasses screenshots because PROFESSOR, PLS. Go follow her bc her edits are out of this world. The masturbation scene is also heavily inspired by @astarionfreak's "Are You Satisfied, Darling?" If you haven't read it what are you doing???

Read on AO3 ~ Masterlist

There’s something about him that rubs you the wrong way. It could be his arrogance, or the condescending way he peers over his glasses at you and your other colleagues. It might be the overpriced cashmere turtlenecks that hug his figure perfectly or the stupid silver earrings adorning his stupid elf ears. But every time he opens his pretty little mouth you feel a snarl growing deep in your throat.

This is the first university you’ve worked at where the theatre and English departments shared an office. Theatre and music, sure, even theatre and dance. But theatre and English? It feels insulting, honestly. English PhDs are some of the snobbiest people you’ve ever met, and they always speak to you like a child. Is it because they’re unimpressed by your MFA, like it made you less deserving of your position? Who knows. But Astarion Ancunin is no different.

“Grace, would you mind making twelve copies of pages 219-254 when you get a chance?” You hand the administrative assistant the heavy book. “You can leave them in my mailbox, I’ll pick them up later.” Grace opens the book to the instructed page.

“Oh, Much Ado About Nothing! I love that one!” she squeals with delight. “That Beatrice and Benedick,” she sighs, stroking the Complete Works lovingly. You smile at her cordially.

“They’re great, they’re basically the non-problematic version of Kate and Petruchio,” you respond in agreement.

“How tragic that Taming’s writing is better.”

You whirl around to see Ancunin walking in looking at something on his phone. He doesn’t even look up as he inserts himself into your conversation. You glare at his interruption. He looks up at Grace, bypassing you completely.

“Good morning, Grace darling, how are you today?” He sweeps over to her and takes her hand in his, planting a kiss on her knuckles. Gods he’s fucking insufferable. Not to mention unprofessional. Grace, however, blushes and giggles like a schoolgirl.

“I’m doing well, Dr. Ancunin, and yourself?” The tiefling’s voice jumps up about three pitches and her tail starts swishing excitedly.

“Leagues better now that I’ve been blessed with your presence,” he coos at her, voice positively saccharine. It takes every ounce of your patience to keep from rolling your eyes. He casts his gaze to you, and even you need to turn away from those piercing red eyes.

“Good morning, professor. Starting Much Ado with your students, I take it?” he asks with a light smile that makes you bristle.

“Yes, it’s a great way for them to practice switching between verse and prose,” you respond coolly, more than a little defensive.

“Of course, one of his best.” He glances down at the volume still in Grace’s hands and his eyebrows raise, peering over the top of his round glasses. “Going with the Bevington, hmm? Interesting. I’m more of a Norton man, myself.” He runs a slender finger along the binding as you grit your teeth. Is he really patronizing you over your choice of edition of Shakespeare’s Complete Works? Of course, he’s an English scholar.

“The Norton is a great tool dramaturgically, but the Bevington is a much better resource for actors, so, yes.” Your voice is steady but there’s an undeniable venom in it. Can he tell how much he’s bothering you? Probably, he’s almost certainly getting enjoyment out of riling you up. His little smirk would seem to suggest it, at least.

“Well certainly, and who knows acting resources better than our resident classical acting expert?” he intones, voice still dripping with honey. You narrow your eyes at him, unsure if he’s taking another jab at your degree.

“Well, as much as I enjoy standing around and debating the merit of various editions of the Complete Works, I’m about to be late for a meeting. Grace, thank you so much, I’ll be back later to pick up those copies. Dr. Ancunin,” you turn to his smug face and he looks back at you innocently. “A pleasure, as always.” You grab your papers and leave the office, feeling the heat of his gaze boring into the back of your head as you leave.

***

“Yes, Thaniel, come on in, have a seat,” you call out to the freshman loitering in the hallway outside your office. He comes in and drops his overfull backpack next to the teal club chair across from your desk. You close your laptop and smile at him warmly.

“So, Hamlet, that’s ambitious! I think it’s a good choice for you, but it’ll be a lot of work,” you say, glancing at your own copy of the monologue.

“Yeah, that’s why I’m here,” Thaniel says nervously. “I’m fine with the scansion and stuff, that I get, but I still don’t get the actual words. And I know you said how important that is.”

“For sure, I can guarantee all of the bad Shakespeare you’ve seen has been because the actors had no idea what they were saying. Have you used the Lexicon?” Thaniel looks off to the side, embarrassed.

“No, I don’t really get how that works either,” he says, an air of chagrin creeping into his voice.

“No worries, it takes practice. Here, we’ll do a few lines together. So first off, to be or not to be, that’s fairly obvious, right?”

“Yeah, he’s talking about suicide, right?”

“Sure, but what is he actually saying about it? To take arms against a sea of troubles/And by opposing, end them. What’s ‘them’ referring to?”

“The sea of troubles?”

“Right, the aforementioned slings and arrows. So even though you might know what those words mean individually, look them up in the Lexicon to see if they have a different context here. But you’re right, he’s trying to figure out if it’s better to suffer through the shittiness of existence or to take your fate into your own hands and, well, end them.” You highlight the line and lean over your desk to show Thaniel. A voice pipes up from the doorway.

“That’s not exactly what he’s saying, you know.”

The paper crumples in your hand slightly as your fist instinctively tightens. You plaster a strained smile on your face and look up at him.

“Dr. Ancunin, thank you for gracing us with your presence. Care to elaborate?”

He’s leaning in the doorway, arms crossed, face in shadows. Your office is unusually dark because of the storm outside, and so the bright fluorescents in the hallway give him an almost ethereal halo effect

“It’s a common misconception that Hamlet is contemplating suicide here. Life and death, sure, but ‘to take arms’ isn’t metaphorical, it’s literal. He’s contemplating dying as a result of killing Claudius, not taking his own life,” he says, almost sounding bored. You stand abruptly, your office chair skidding backwards.

“How can that possibly be true? He says ‘to take arms against a sea of troubles.’ He’s using the active voice, deciding whether or not to continue his life or end it. To be or not to be. It’s the first line in the monologue. He’s not talking about the consequences of killing Claudius.” You try to keep your voice from shaking. You know that you don't sound nearly as eloquent as him, and it’s pissing you off. He shrugs nonchalantly.

“You’re oversimplifying it, it’s exceedingly more complicated than that. The whole soliloquy is filled with war imagery. He’s at war with himself, the part of him that wants to kill Claudius and the part of him that is afraid to die.” He pushes himself off the door frame and steps back into the hallway. “But apologies, please don’t let me interrupt your instruction.” And like that he was off, leaving you to stew in silence. Thaniel looks up at you and looks back at the doorway where he stood.

“Should I…” he starts, but you cut him off with a wave of your hand.

“Dr. Ancunin comes at this from a very different angle as an English academic. He’s more interested in the words on the page, rather than how they translate to the stage. But,” you sigh, loathe to give him any credit, “it’s a valid interpretation. We can go down that route, if you want, or we can look at it through this lens.” Thaniel chews his lip while he considers his options.

“I think what you said makes more sense, the suicide bit,” he finally decides. You nod and pull out your copies of the Shakespeare Lexicon.

“Great, let’s go over how to use the Lexicon again,” you say as you flip through the book, looking for the entry for ‘slings.’

***

You drop off your bag and toss your keys into a bowl on the counter. Fucking exhausting day. You unzip your boots and kick them vaguely in the direction of the shoe rack, stretching and curling your toes for relief. You hang up your wet coat and shake rain from your hair. Your eyes dart between the refrigerator, wherein resides a bottle of white wine, and the bathroom door, contemplating how good a hot bath would feel. Both? Both is good.

You pour yourself a generous glass of Riesling and strip your clothes on your way to the bathroom. One of the perks of living alone. Sitting naked on the edge of the tub, you sip your wine as the bath fills.

Fucking Ancunin.

You’re a little shocked at how much he got under your skin today. Normally you don’t think twice about him, excepting the few times you have the misfortune of passing him in the hallway. But today the fates decided to throw you together and your schedules aligned. Well, in your defense, you didn’t seek him out that second time, he was the one who decided to crash your office hours.

You don’t even like Hamlet that much. You certainly don’t care about alternative interpretations of “To be or not to be.” But you’re mostly annoyed because he had a fair point. His read makes Hamlet a more interesting character rather than a cowardly incel romanticizing suicide.

You slide into the bath, hissing slightly as the hot water flows over your chilled skin. Without prompting, Ancunin worms his way back into your thoughts. Hmmph. You take a gulp of wine to try to wash away the taste of the unpleasant image.

Well… not entirely unpleasant. He’s a good looking man, you’d be a fool to deny it. But gods he’s so smug. And interrupting your meeting with Thaniel was wildly inappropriate. Leaning your head against the edge of the tub, you try to focus your thoughts elsewhere. You’re not about to let him interrupt you again, and when he’s not even present, no less.

But there he is, in your mind, crimson eyes looking over the top of those metal frame glasses that you’re, like, 99% sure he doesn’t actually need to see. You take another swig of wine to drown his stupid face. With his stupid cheekbones. And his dumb fucking earrings that you want to bite.

Nine hells, what is happening? You’ve been drinking your wine quickly and aren’t thinking straight. You grab your phone and open Spotify, letting your daily mix play through the bluetooth speaker on the counter.

Now Playing: Hatefuck by The Bravery.

If I put my hands around your wrists, would you fight them?

If I put my fingers in your mouth, would you bite them?

By Mystra’s fucking grace, seriously? You growl at the growing heat between your legs. Between putting off dinner and chugging your wine, your head is swimming. You might be better off getting it out of your system.

The wine glass hits the tub edge with a clank as you angrily put it down and sink into the water up to your chin. You are satiating a purely physical need, nothing else.

You still shiver as you slip your hand between your legs, lightly running your finger up your slit. You can see his face, looking down on you through those glasses - those infuriating glasses - and your lips flutter. What does he look like under those sweaters? He’s so thin, but his clothes fit incredibly well. It’s not hard to imagine a sculpted body beneath. You spread your legs further and let the warm water tickle your folds.

His silvery curls would look so good between your legs, slender fingers wrapped around your thighs while he laps you up. At least then he’d shut up. A gentle moan escapes your lips as you run your finger along your inner lips, pretending it’s him. You could grab hold of those perfect locks, yanking on them to control where he can go, fucking his face.

You move your other hand up to your breast and start teasing your nipple, feeling his lips around it. You give it a little tug and groan, just like if he nipped at it.

You imagine sitting on his pretty face, pointed ears flushed and hair a mess. Your hips buck into your hand as they might on top of him and your toes curl. You make gentle circles around your clit, thinking of all the other uses for his silver tongue. You whine and squirm at the sensations of heat radiating through your body. You slip a finger inside and hiss as you can see his pale digits entering you in your mind’s eye. You curl it upwards and gasp, his imaginary eyes looking up at you through those long lashes and a smirk playing across his imaginary lips.

“Are you ready for more of me, darling?” You can hear him murmur into your ear.

“Yes, gods yes,” you reply breathlessly into the cold bathroom air. You slide another finger in and feel that delicious stretch. The ghost of him moans, coming undone at the sight of you. You could leave him speechless, for once.

You reach over the edge of the tub and grab the box of waterproof toys. You frantically sift through your collection of dildos, trying to find the right one. Here. It’s long and svelte like the rest of him, but bright shimmery purple. You suction it to the bottom of the tub and hover above it on your knees. It sways lightly in the water, tip of it teasing your pussy just like you’d love to do to him.

Gods, to see him beg for your cunt. To see him reduced to a babbling mess, pleading to let him inside you. Your breath quickens at the mental image of him pulling on his own hair waiting for you to satisfy him. You sink down onto the dildo and your groan of pleasure mirrors what you’d like to hear from him.

You start sliding yourself on the purple dick, feeling its ridges glide against the walls of your cunt as you continue to finger your clit. You imagine your hand splayed across his chest, your black nails standing in contrast against his pale skin. You claw at the bottom of the tub as you increase your pace, desperate to see the pink raised skin that your nails leave behind. The fingers on your clit speed up as well, and you can feel yourself getting close.

“Oh gods, Astarion, don’t stop,” the words tumble from your mouth unbidden. You will absolutely hate yourself for that later, but right now all that matters is your ecstasy. You bounce atop the dildo, disregarding the water that splashes over the side of the tub as you chase your finish. Your moans increase in pitch and fervor as the various images of him in all sorts of positions flash through your mind. Between your thighs, sitting on his face, riding his dick, even fucking pegging him from behind because why the hell not?

“Astarion!” You cry out his name as you crash over the edge, legs shaking and pussy pulsing. Your orgasm reverberates throughout your whole body as you ride it out. Eventually, your movement slows and the water gently sways around you. You look down at your hand, milky juices swirling in the now tepid tub water.

Shit.

***

The next day at work, you avoid him like the plague. You keep your office door closed, usually an unthinkable act but entirely necessary right now. You double check the hallway before leaving to go teach, and then after class you immediately duck back into your office and close the door again. You even avoid the main office for fear of running into him there.

You can’t look at his face right now. You can’t possibly look him in the eye.

When 5:00 rolls around, you glance out into the hallway. Most of the other professors are leaving. To play it safe, you decide to work until 6 so that you can be sure that he’s gone when you leave. You absentmindedly grade performance responses. After you’ve read one paragraph about Miss Julie maybe a half dozen times, you realize that it’s probably time to go.

You slowly open the door and glance out into the hallway. You can’t tell from this angle if his door is open or not. You grab your bag and coat, take a deep breath, and make a beeline for the stairs. As you approach his office you realize it’s open.

Fuck.

It’s fine. You’ll just walk past it and get to the parking lot and then you won’t need to worry about it. He might not even be in there. Or if he is, he probably has his head down and won’t notice you walk by. It’s fine. You’ve got this.

“Oh, professor, a word?” His voice floats into the hallway right as you’re passing his door. Are you fucking kidding? You turn to see him sitting at his desk, head down, writing something. He doesn’t even look up at you. Prick.

“Yes?” you ask, not budging from your spot in the hall. He glances up at you over his glasses. Those fucking glasses. You want to rip them off his face and throw them out the window.

“Do you have a moment? I think we need to talk.” His voice is low and cool. Does he fucking know? There’s no way he can know.

Right?

You tentatively take a step into his office. It’s surprisingly cluttered for a man who always looks so put together, but it’s still warm and inviting. You can barely see the walls for being covered corner to corner in bookshelves full to bursting. He’s got a big mahogany desk in the middle of the room - significantly nicer than the university-issued one. It’s covered in stacks of papers, books, weird little knick knacks; it’s amazing how he’s able to get anything done on it. There are two chairs facing his desk, much like yours, but a rich plush velvet instead of a scratchy cotton weave. He’s got a scent diffuser somewhere, giving the room an aroma like an earthy spiced tea.

“Have a seat,” he says, gesturing to the cushy red chairs across from him. You stand there, clutching your bag, staring at him like a deer in the headlights. When he realizes you’re not going to sit, he gets up and crosses over to the door.

“Do you mind if I close this? It’s… a bit embarrassing,” he asks with a crooked smile. You can feel the heat in your cheeks rising. Your mouth goes dry and you try to swallow the lump forming in your throat.

There’s no way he knows.

Right?

But something compels you to nod, so he closes the door and walks back to his desk, but rather than sitting behind it, he leans back casually on the front of it. He’s taken off the blazer he usually wears and is down to just the turtleneck, sleeves pushed up just below his elbows. He crosses his arms in front of his chest as you stare, waiting.

“I wanted to… apologize. For yesterday.”

You blink at him, the conversation not going in the direction you expected. You had been so focused on yourself, that it took you a moment to realize what he was referring to.

“It was inappropriate to barge in on your meeting with your student. You were mid-instruction, and I needn’t have inserted myself into your conversation.” He leaned back on his hands, stretching out his lean figure to impossible proportions. The grip on your bag slackened and you couldn’t help but drag your gaze over the length of his body. He looks at you quizzically.

“I get the sense that you don’t very much like me,” he muses.

Now it’s his turn to give you the once-over, and you feel practically naked before him the way he looks at you. “Then again,” he adds, and pushes himself off his desk. He slowly advances toward you, though whether like someone approaching a vicious beast or a predator stalking its prey, it’s unclear. You retreat while holding his gaze until your back is flush against the door.

No escape now.

He gets precariously close to you and takes an unsettling whiff. When he speaks again, his voice is a husky growl.

“I think it’s entirely possible you like me… quite a bit.” He’s got at least a half foot on you, and he looks down on you with heavy-lidded eyes. The heat in your face has fully reached the tips of your ears now, and your breath comes out ragged.

“I’m sure I-” you start, but it comes out thick and raspy. You clear your throat and try again. “I’m sure I don't know what you mean,” you finally manage with all of the composure you can muster. He cocks an eyebrow at you, then slowly takes off those infuriating glasses.

“No? Then perhaps I’m mistaken, and your heart rate hasn’t increased by approximately 20 beats per second in the past few minutes.” His eyes continue boring into you. “And maybe that smell between your legs is completely unrelated.”

An undignified splutter comes out of you as you press your thighs closer together. He takes a half step back to let you respond.

“If I am indeed mistaken, then I’ve said my peace and you’re free to go.” The seductive honey is gone from his voice, and in its place is a politely professional tone. You fully feel that he’s giving you an out, that you can both laugh on this as an embarrassing moment and neither will bring it up ever again.

But on the other hand…

“You’re not mistaken,” you choke out in a whisper. The lazy smile is back and he lifts your chin with his index finger.

“What was that? Speak up.” His command weakens your knees and you wither under his gaze.

“You’re not wrong,” you say more boldly, trying to meet his energy. His smile broadens, and for the first time you notice two pointy fangs slip out beneath his upper lip.

Fucking

vampire??

That explains how he could track your heartbeat, and even more his ridiculously keen sense of smell. Doesn’t make it any less humiliating.

“No, I don’t suppose I am,” he snarls and suddenly he’s kissing you roughly, hands twisting in your hair and one knee sliding up between your legs. He pushes you against the door and lifts you off your feet slightly. You’re desperate just to keep up as he devours you, hands weakly grasping at his hips, shoulders, neck. But he’s fully in control of the kiss, and after a moment you let him take you.

He breaks the kiss but doesn’t pull away, and you’re both breathing heavily, air cycling between your lungs. Your head feels full of a thick fog and you can’t fully see straight. His hands are still in your hair, tight but not pulling - yet. You get the sense that might not last long.

He drops to his knees and you nearly double over from the sudden lack of support. He runs his nose and lips across the hem of your black denim skirt, inhaling again. Your fingers lace into his hair, but not even remotely in the dominant way from your fantasy. At this point you’re just trying not to collapse.

He looks up at you, flashing another fang-bearing grin. His hand slips up your skirt and his thumb runs across your pussy, barricaded by your sheer tights and panties.

“Darling, you’re positively soaked,” he hums contentedly. “You’d have a hard time hiding this from anyone.” You bite your lower lip, trying to keep the needy whines at bay. But when he fiercely rips the crotch of your tights and presses the flat of his tongue against the drenched gusset, you can’t stop the cry from escaping your throat. He sucks lasciviously, the debauched slurping noise ringing in your ears. Your knees buckle and he grabs hold of your hips, hiking your skirt up to your waist to get better access to your dripping cunt.

He stands and kisses you again, the taste of you lingering on

his lips. He grabs your ass and digs his fingers into your flesh, spreading them until you gasp into his kiss. In one fluid motion he sweeps up your legs and wraps them around his waist, carrying you over to that incredible mahogany desk.

He plops you down on the hardwood and you hear books and papers tumbling onto the floor behind you. He presses his bulge into your mound, this time the sound of both of your moans mingling pleasingly. He tears at your chiffon button down, trailing hungry kisses down your chest as you throw your head back in pleasure. He makes quick work of fully removing your top, though you’re certain he sacrificed some buttons in the process. You hardly care as you paw wantonly at the back of his neck, desperate for him to get his lips onto every single inch of you. He pulls the lace cup of your bra down with his teeth and starts sucking on your nipple, pressing his hand into the small of your back. You arch into him, his hands working you like a soft clay.

So much for the pleading mess that you pictured last night. Instead, you’re the one who's been reduced to shambles, begging for satisfaction.

“Puh-please,” you stutter, and those devilish eyes lock onto yours again. He snakes his way back up your chest and bites your lower lip.

“Puh-please what?” he mocks your stammering, but makes up for it when he rolls his hips forward, dragging that delicious hardness against you. You squirm, trying to pull him closer but he’s got your arms locked in his grip. His lips leave yours and ghost over the flesh of your neck. He very gently scrapes his fangs across your jugular, eliciting a ghoulish moan from you in return. By all the gods, you hadn’t even considered that as a part of it. His movement made it clear that he won’t bite unless you want him to.

But holy hells do you want him to.

“Gods Astarion,” you gasp, and you swear you can feel his cock twitch at the sound of his own name. “Fuck me then bite me, or the other way around I don’t care, but please get in me!” The string of words almost sounds foreign to your own ears, but you’re well beyond the point of trying to sound clever. In an instant, he’s undone his belt buckle and his erection springs forth, bouncing and already dripping precum. He roughly shoves your panties to the side and sinks his cock and teeth into you simultaneously, drawing out your cry of both pain and pleasure. You wrap your legs and arms around him, trying to pull him in deeper. You can feel his mouth filling up with your hot blood just as your cunt fills up with his dick.

You’re panting as you grow more lightheaded, clinging to his neck. Unthinkingly, your fingers stroke his ears, playing with those tiny silver hoops. He lurches and pulls away from your neck, looking absolutely feral with your blood dripping down his chin, which only sets you off more. You angle your hips toward him, trying to get him to start thrusting into you. He pushes your back down onto the desk and hooks his elbows beneath your knee high boots. Then he starts pounding into you properly, and you feel like you’re close to losing it. You grab onto the edge of the desk as he revs up his pace, his cock stretching you out as he keeps your legs close to your ears. You can feel the heat mounting in your core and you know it won’t be long before you come. But at this point you’re just trying to hold on for dear life.

“Fuck, gods, Astarion, I’m-” You finish before your sentence does. He doesn’t relent as the orgasm wracks your body, if anything, he fucks you harder. Just as you’ve barely come down off your climax, he pulls out and yanks you off the desk, spins you around and pushes your face down into the smooth mahogany, warmed from where you had just been. He enters you again, this time from behind, and already you’re working your way up to a second one. Your bare tits squish against the polished surface and he grabs your hair, pulling your head up and arching your back into him.

For the first time you notice the mirror on the opposite wall across from his desk. But rather than both of you, you only see yourself, disheveled and well-fucked, lips swollen from his abuse. Your hair is pulled up by an invisible force behind you. Another unexpected aspect of vampire fucking.

You desperately wish you could see his face because you can feel his thrusts getting more uneven and erratic. You try to turn to get a glimpse of him, but his grip on your hair remains tight. But even if you can’t see him, you can hear him, his grunts and the low string of incoherent swears pouring out of his mouth. The sound of him getting lost in you is enough, and your own moans start building and mixing with his, an utter symphony of epicurism.

His hips give a few more broken thrusts and you can feel his climax, setting off yours. The throbs of his cock match those wracking your cunt, and you hold onto the edge of the desk as the waves wash over you. Once they’ve come to an end he pulls out, and you can feel his semen dripping out of the sudden emptiness and running down your leg. You quietly say a thankful prayer for your IUD.

You’re both panting as he collapses onto your back, planting a half-hearted kiss on your spine. You weakly push yourself up off the desk and see the devastation of papers, smears and fluids. You turn yourself around and relish in his appearance. Your blood is splattered on his fine cream sweater, his usually perfectly coiffed curls damp and sticking to his forehead. You reach up and wipe the remainder of your blood off his chin. He smirks and kisses you, significantly more gently this time.

“That was good,” you murmur through steadying breaths, “but next time, keep the fucking glasses on.”

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