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saintsenara · 8 months ago

Note

Riddle’s extremely fearful and aggressive reaction to Dumbledore when he thinks he’s a doctor (and the fact that he assumes this at all and believes he is being lied to) has some pretty dark implications (which of course no one follows up on). Do you have thoughts?

thank you very much for the ask, anon!

and yes - this has occurred to me too... which means that my thoughts come with a trigger warning for the sexual abuse of a child, and are under the cut.

the relevant scene in canon is, of course, this:

“I am Professor Dumbledore.” “Professor?” repeated Riddle. He looked wary. “Is that like doctor? What are you here for? Did she get you in to have a look at me?” He was pointing at the door through which Mrs. Cole had just left. “No, no,” said Dumbledore, smiling. “I don’t believe you,” said Riddle. “She wants me looked at, doesn’t she? Tell the truth!” He spoke the last three words with a ringing force that was almost shocking. It was a command, and it sounded as though he had given it many times before. His eyes had widened and he was glaring at Dumbledore, who made no response except to continue smiling pleasantly. After a few seconds Riddle stopped glaring, though he looked, if anything, warier still. “Who are you?” “I have told you. My name is Professor Dumbledore and I work at a school called Hogwarts. I have come to offer you a place at my school - your new school, if you would like to come.” Riddle’s reaction to this was most surprising. He leapt from the bed and backed away from Dumbledore, looking furious. “You can’t kid me! The asylum, that’s where you’re from, isn’t it? ‘Professor,’ yes, of course - well, I’m not going, see? That old cat’s the one who should be in the asylum. I never did anything to little Amy Benson or Dennis Bishop, and you can ask them, they’ll tell you!”

the surface-level reading of this scene - which is clearly what the text wants us to go for - is that riddle thinks he's about to be institutionalised for being "mad" - and, specifically, that he thinks that what dumbledore has been told is his "madness" is actually his magic.

[he is also clearly meant to be read as panicking a little bit that he's fucked around torturing his fellow children and is now about to find out...]

that riddle accepts he's a wizard so easily - and that he is so reassured by dumbledore agreeing that he's not mad - is something the text wants us to read as sinister. him immediately describing himself as "special" is set up as a precursor to the adult voldemort's delusions of grandeur - which the entire arc of the series, ending in his death as an ordinary man, is designed to undermine.

but i've always disliked this reading. the eleven-year-old riddle - a magical child raised around non-magical people - is objectively correct to describe his powers as "special" [in that they make him identifiably different from the crowd] within the context in which he lives. the word choice is nowhere near as deep as dumbledore decides - he's clearly known since he was very young that he's a wizard, but he didn't have the precise language to describe this fundamental part of himself until dumbledore offered it; prior to that, "special" is a perfectly reasonable alternative term.

and, in always knowing that he's a wizard, he also knows that he doesn't have a mental illness - but he must also know that this is something it's near impossible for him to prove.

in the real world, if i spoke to a patient who told me:

“I can make things move without touching them. I can make animals do what I want them to do, without training them. I can make bad things happen to people who annoy me. I can make them hurt if I want to.”

then i would be correct to describe them as experiencing psychosis. and i might - depending on their other symptoms - have reasonable cause to admit them [voluntarily or not] for psychiatric treatment.

riddle is - of course - demonstrably not psychotic. but it's not unreasonable that mrs cole would assume he is - the world she lives in, as a muggle [even if she's a religious one], is one in which people do not possess the ability to move objects or control animals with their minds, and if one of her charges is convinced that he can, then she's justified in seeking medical intervention.

[that psychiatric treatment in the 1930s can be described without exaggeration as inhumane is another matter...]

which is to say, i think we can easily suppose that mrs cole has - prior to dumbledore's arrival - succeeded in having riddle "looked at", and that the idea that he's mentally ill and should be committed to an asylum has been mentioned before. i think most of us would be instinctively [and angrily] wary of doctors if this happened to us, regardless of how nice the doctors in question were.

and maybe that's all there is to it.

and maybe it isn't...

in the doylist text, the eleven-year-old riddle's personality is the way it is because he's the villain of the series. where harry is preternaturally capable, even as a child, of all the things the series defines as admirable - above all, enduring difficulty without complaint - riddle is preternaturally incapable of them. he's meant to come across as unambiguously sinister - and the fact that the text repeatedly emphasises that he has control over his unpleasant traits invites us to view him as someone who is acting with full agency. that he lives in an orphanage is a trope which the text uses, like a campy horror film might, predominately to underscore how creepy he is - and the text, in keeping with its general lack of interest in states and their institutions, never really prompts us to interrogate the impact of his childhood upon the course his life takes.

[this is despite the fact that voldemort's reliving of the night he killed the potters in deathly hallows is an incredibly accurate depiction of ptsd...]

but it's also the case that the eleven-year-old riddle's behaviour and personality fits a pattern we might expect to see in a child who is being abused, sexually or otherwise:

he's aggressive, he has a hair-trigger temper, and he becomes distressed even by behaviour - such as dumbledore speaking mildly and calmly - which would not ordinarily be expected to provoke such a reaction.

his broader emotional state is fractious. his mood changes sharply, he seems to feel emotions very profoundly, he struggles to control his emotional response to things, he's extremely easily irritated, he's attention-seeking - and he particularly seeks negative attention, and he's very highly-strung. his admission in deathly hallows that he feels calm before he kills - or before he otherwise eradicates a threat or a problem - comes with the flip-side that he's someone who appears, when things aren't going well or he finds himself in a situation which he can't control, to become quite anxious. which is a trauma response.

he's extremely isolated. the text presents the fact that he has no friends as a deliberate choice - "lord voldemort has never had a friend, nor do i believe that he has ever wanted one" - and his relationship with everyone else he ever meets, including his fellow orphans, is defined by the text as exclusively involving him controlling, manipulating, and punishing them. or: he is always the more powerful person in the pairing. but this need for control can be read as self-protective just as easily as it can be read as sinister. there are hints in canon that riddle is not just some malevolent force in the orphanage preying on mild-mannered innocents. for example, billy stubbs, the owner of the rabbit he kills, is targeted by riddle as revenge: “Billy Stubbs’s rabbit... well, Tom said he didn’t do it and I don’t see how he could have done, but even so, it didn’t hang itself from the rafters, did it? [...] But I’m jiggered if I know how he got up there to do it. All I know is he and Billy had argued the day before." on the rare occasions billy turns up in fics, he's usually - i find - written very like neville - sweet and guileless and a bit pathetic. but the alternative reading - especially when we take into account that riddle attacks the rabbit rather than billy himself - is that billy is someone he would be afraid to physically confront. indeed, it's striking that voldemort - at all stages of his life - is described as being quite physically fragile. not only is he very thin, but he's always cold and his heartbeat is described several times in canon as irregular. i think this is supposed to be a comment on the physical changes he undergoes the more horcruxes he makes - although the idea that the soul would affect the heart doesn't actually align with how the series understands the soul to relate to the body - but it can also be interpreted perfectly legitimately as something he was experiencing prior to splitting his soul. i am committed to the headcanon that riddle was quite a sickly child - and that this is one of the things which drives his fear of death - and i'm also committed to the idea that his obsession with magic is because the enormity of his magical power makes up for his physical lack. he can defeat - and humiliate and frighten and remove the threat of - billy or dennis [or even an adult man?] with magic. without it, if they were to physically overpower him, then he wouldn't be able to throw them off.

he is extremely nervous about being alone in a room with dumbledore - someone he doesn't know, and who he assumes is connected to a profession [and, maybe, who knows any other doctors he's been previously made to see...] of which he is frightened.

he doesn't trust or confide in anyone - which, as a child, means particularly that he doesn't trust or confide in adults in positions of responsibility. he's clearly uneasy with the idea of finding himself in the subordinate position in an adult-child relationship when dumbledore offers to take him shopping for school supplies - potentially because he's worried that dumbledore will try and dictate or restrict what he's allowed to buy unless he behaves in a certain way... and i am always very struck that dumbledore says in half-blood prince: "He was very guarded with me; he felt, I am sure, that in the thrill of discovering his true identity he had told me a little too much. He was careful never to reveal as much again." this is presented in the text as evidence that dumbledore is the only person of whom voldemort is afraid - by which the text means that voldemort acknowledges that dumbledore knows that an ordinary man, mortal and unimpressive, lurks behind the mask of unassailable power he has created for himself; and which the text thinks is a good thing. but we can also read it as a self-protective act on riddle's part. in his excitement, he offers dumbledore information [that he is known to be a liar, that he is in trouble a lot, that mrs cole dislikes him and is disinclined to believe anything he says] which would give dumbledore - or anyone in a similar position of power and presumed respectability - cover to abuse him, safe in the knowledge that he would be unlikely to be believed if he reported it.

he doesn't appear to feel safe in the orphanage and he's frequently absent from it - by his own admission, he spends a huge amount of time wandering around london on his own, which may even involve him staying away for several days at a time. nobody appears to notice or care about this.

he's very independent - which the text again presents as evidence of his deliberate self-isolation and rejection of the bonds of love and friendship - and his independence is unusual for a child his age [i.e. that he is capable of doing all his own shopping for school].

his knowledge of violence - i.e. how he designs the trip to the cave to be maximally psychologically devastating for dennis and amy and devoid of repercussions for himself - is also more advanced and methodical than would be expected in a child of his age. again, the text uses this to emphasise how inextricable the child-voldemort is from his adult self - and also, to some extent, to underscore the intellectual brilliance [his magic is also more advanced than is normal for a child] which his narrative archetype [the exceptional villain who is defeated by the everyman hero] requires. but we can also read it as evidence of his own victimisation. a common sign that a child is being sexually abused is that they display a knowledge of sexual behaviour which is more advanced than is reasonable for a child of their age - for example, knowing in detail how a sex act is performed, or fluently using sexual slang which they have no chance of knowing either from age-appropriate settings like school-based sex education or conversations with a parent or trusted adult, or from the sort of enthusiastic hoarding of rude words and phrases all children enjoy as they grow up. riddle's precise, clinical knowledge of how to manipulate, frighten, torture, and control can be seen as something similar. if he can - at eleven or younger - methodically break down another child until they're "never quite right" again, then this is because he's learned how to from someone.

he keeps secrets. and he also goes out of his way to extract them. his grooming of ginny in chamber of secrets - he manipulates her into confiding things she wants to keep to herself, promises he won't tell anyone, and then uses the threat that he will to get her to do his bidding - is an absolutely textbook example of how abusers use the idea of secrecy to control their victims. it doesn't make his abuse of ginny any less inexcusable if we assume he learns this from being on the other side of things.

dumbledore understands his little cache of objects as trophies he's taken from victims - and the text takes the view that dumbledore is correct in this assessment. that hoarding trophies is something widely associated with serial killers means that this is yet another thing which underlines how creepy - and how like his adult self - the child-voldemort is. but it's also the case that the adult - and teenage - voldemort places a lot of emphasis on gift-giving as part of his control over other people. the two most obvious examples in canon are wormtail being given his shiny hand as a reward for helping voldemort get his body back, and slughorn being buttered up with crystallised pineapple before voldemort asks him about horcruxes. the text thinks this is sinister - and one of the reasons it does this is because gift-giving is a grooming tactic. the text also clearly thinks this isn't behaviour voldemort has learned from the other side. and yet a common sign that a child is being abused is if they have possessions it doesn't make sense for them to own [i.e. a child from a low-income background who is suddenly decked in designer clothes] and which they can't or won't explain how they came by. riddle's cache isn't luxurious - although he's so poor that a yoyo or a mouth organ probably is a luxury to him - but there's also nothing in canon which precludes the objects being presents, rather than stolen goods. if the spell dumbledore uses to make the box rattle is caused by a statement which is both relatively ambiguous and dependent on dumbledore's subjective personal morality - is there anything in this room he's acquired through nefarious means? - then the spell would still work as it does in canon if riddle was an abuse victim given the objects as "rewards". dumbledore's tendency to locate right and wrong in the individual and dumbledore's belief that good people should steadfastly endure misery means he can be written entirely canon-coherently as someone who would think a victim who appeared to collude in their own abuse - such as a victim who "offered" a sexual act because their abuser promised them something if they did - was behaving consensually, manipulatively, and nefariously. and it's worth noting that when riddle doesn't know what dumbledore has done to make the box rattle, he is "unnerved". when he realises dumbledore thinks he's stolen the objects - and that he has no interest in forcing him to admit this aloud - he is "unabashed". perhaps because he's just received proof that an experience he doesn't want to talk about is still secret...

on the other hand, the objects could indeed be stolen - because petty criminality and anti-social behaviour, especially in pre-teen children, is also a sign of abuse.

he can be extremely obsequious - when dumbledore tells him to watch how he speaks he becomes "unrecognisably polite", he ruthlessly flatters slughorn, and he is cringingly deferential to hepzibah smith. the text understands this as evidence that his apparent charm is only superficial - another trait associated in the popular imagination with serial killers [and it's striking that so much about the young voldemort - handsome, charming, seemingly quiet and polite, true evil lurking underneath the mask - is exactly like the pop-culture persona which has been created for ted bundy...]. voldemort himself agrees that his charm is performative in chamber of secrets: “If I say it myself, Harry, I’ve always been able to charm the people I needed. So Ginny poured out her soul to me, and her soul happened to be exactly what I wanted." but his obsequiousness is also a fawn response - a way of minimising a threat by attempting to please the person issuing it. he becomes "unrecognisably polite" - after all - in response to this: Dumbledore raised his eyebrows. “If, as I take it, you are accepting your place at Hogwarts - ” “Of course I am!” “Then you will address me as ‘Professor’ or ‘sir.’ ” Riddle’s expression hardened for the most fleeting moment before he said, in an unrecognisably polite voice, “I’m sorry, sir. I meant - please, Professor, could you show me - ?” riddle could reasonably interpret what dumbledore says here as a threat to prevent him attending hogwarts - even though dumbledore evidently doesn't mean it in this way - and he switches to being fawning because this is something he really doesn't want to happen...

do i think that any of this is what the text was actually going for? no. and nor do i think that reading riddle as a victim of abuse excuses the violence which the adult voldemort goes on to perpetuate.

but i think it is a reading of his characterisation which is both canon-plausible and interesting - a strange, sickly child with a reputation for cruelty and dishonesty being abused by the respectable doctor who is constantly called in to treat his coughs and wheezes, who buys him little presents and charms him into telling him secrets, who then [to paraphrase the teenage voldemort] feeds him a few secrets of his own, safe in the knowledge that nobody will ever believe him if he tries to get help.

and i also think this a reading which is sincerely important.

a significant contributor to the prevalence of child abuse - no matter what exact form this abuse takes - is that we are culturally conditioned to imagine that both the abuser and the victim will look and behave in a certain way if the abuse is "real".

and this means, all too often, that we take child abuse more seriously when the victim is "sympathetic" - when they're from a stable home, and their family are respectable, and they do well in school, and they're polite and sweet, and they look innocent, and they behave perfectly appropriately for their age, and nobody would ever dare to say that they come across as older than they are, and they're white, and they don't have a history of lying, and they don't have a history of attention-seeking, and they don't have a criminal record, and they're not abusive themselves, and there's absolutely no way of suggesting that they colluded in their abuse, and the perpetrator was someone who looks like a child abuser.

someone who is creepy, low-status, ugly, unpopular. someone who everyone can tell is socially abnormal, someone who nobody would ever intentionally permit to be around their children. not someone who is charming, well-respected, attractive, rich, popular, trustworthy. not someone who has a loving family and a happy home. not someone we might be friends with.

but many perpetrators of child abuse are these second group of people. and many victims of child abuse are "unsympathetic", when their social positions and reputations are compared to their abusers' own.

they lie. they steal. they're attention-seeking. they're vindictive. they have trouble distinguishing between imagination and reality. they're violent. they're bullies. they hurt animals. they abuse other children. they take drugs. they're mentally-ill. they come from broken homes. they're in the care of the state. they're dirty. they're poor. they're odd. they're behind at school and badly-behaved in the classroom. they do things which allow their abuse to be dismissed as something they brought upon themselves - they speak or dress in certain ways, they pose provocatively in pictures and post them on the internet, they are known to be sexually active outside of the context of their abuse, they lie about being over the age of consent, they engage in sexual behaviour with an adult abuser in a way which appears [even though it isn't, and there's never a circumstance in which it will be] to be consensual or for their own personal gain, they are flattered by the attention they receive from someone who is important or attractive grooming them, they have complicated - and not always wholly negative - feelings towards their abusers.

and they are still - unequivocally - victims, and what happens to them is still - unequivocally - abuse.

tom riddle is an unsympathetic victim - not only of any potential abuse, but also of the horrors of his life which are explicit on the canon page: that he is raised in an orphanage; that he is grieving; that he knows nothing about his family; that he is thought to be mad.

the absence of any institutional response to his childhood experiences - dumbledore, by his own admission, discloses nothing about riddle to his fellow teachers - is a flaw repeated again and again in the worldbuilding of the harry potter series.

hogwarts - and the wizarding [and muggle] state more broadly - doesn't intervene in any case of neglect or abuse, from harry to snape to voldemort's own parents. the series' individualistic morality means that we aren't supposed to interrogate these collective failings. and the series' black-and-white view of good and evil - and its general belief that violence is fine if the person it happens to "deserves" it - means that it has no interest in examining the ways that poverty, isolation, and neglect are risk factors; that straightforwardly unpleasant people can still be victims; that victims can go on to become perpetrators without their victimhood ceasing to matter; and that the abuse of children usually takes place not in silence and secrecy, concealed in ways which make it fine for adults not to notice it and not to intervene, but in plain sight.

this is knowledge it never hurts to refresh. thinking about lord voldemort's childhood might be an usual way of doing so... but it is an effective one nonetheless...

#asks answered #asenora meta #tom riddle #lord voldemort #if wizards had the concept of safeguarding it would be a game changer...

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finn-writes-stuff · 1 year ago

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Could I request headcanons for Gale, Halsin, Wyll, and Gortash with touch starved gn s/o?

A Soft Touch

Adventuring to save the world leaves little time for comfort. Yet they provide it anyway.

Gale, Halsin, Wyll & Gortash x Reader

Fandom: Baldur's Gate 3

Format: Headcanons

Gender Neutral Reader

Masterlist

My first bg3 work! Apologies if I don't have their characterization just right yet. - Finn

Gale

You're both so incredibly touch-starved. He has only had the company of his cat ever since he locked himself up in his tower.

He's terribly gentle when he does touch you. As if he expects you to disappear if he grabs you too tight. As if one of you might just shatter.

It's easier for him to touch you through magic. Encounters in the weave, mage hand, anything of the like. It allows him to touch you without feeling so overwhelmed with it.

But once he truly starts touching you regularly, he can't get enough. He'll have you in his arms while he reads, or he'll lay on your lap and speak of magical innovations.

He drinks you in like the magic he needs to live. Knowing that his touch is providing some benefit for you makes him content and satisfied. Gale lives to make you happy and see you smile.

Halsin

Gods, this man gives the most incredible hugs. The only one who compares is Karlach. He's warm and soft and strong and he holds you as though he would never let anything hurt you.

He's quite a tactile person in general. His hand is regularly on your shoulder when he points something out or asks your opinions. If you're comfortable with it, his hand will rest on the small of your back when he walks with you. He likes keeping the point of combat.

Fall asleep in his arms, on his chest. You will never sleep better than this. It will ruin you for any bed ever.

He's quite careful about boundaries. If you are overwhelmed by him touching you so much, he will tone it down and keep it at your pace.

Alternatively, if it's not enough for you, he's always ready to offer a full body massage.

Wyll

Literal king of romance. He is determined to court you properly. His touch always feels like it has intention and awareness to it.

Loves to kiss your knuckles and make eye contact as he does. It feels ridiculously intimate for just a kiss on the hand.

Wyll traces the lines and curves of your face while you relax with him, admiring you and memorizing your features.

Having you close, whether in an embrace or a dance, settles him. He keeps you close as much as you allow it.

If you ask him to hold you, he will stop nearly whatever he is doing in order to do so. Lae'zel makes fun of him for pausing his sparring for it.

Gortash

Oh if he had it his way (And he rarely tolerates anything less), you would never leave his side. You being touch-starved just gives him all the more reason to keep you there.

Enver is possessive in the way he holds you. He will have a portrait commissioned of the two of you with his gauntleted hand settled firmly on your hip.

He's inevitably touch-starved himself, but he's unlikely to admit this. Just allow him to hold you when you fall asleep or he'll be frustrated with everyone in the morning.

Gortash has the ability to pamper you and he takes advantage of it. He'd have you bathe with him in a bath full of expensive soaps and he'll wash your hair. He will also be ridiculously smug for as long as you smell like him afterwards.

#finnwrites #baldur's gate 3 x reader #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 x reader #headcanons #gale x reader #gale dekarios x reader #halsin x reader #wyll x reader #wyll ravengard x reader #wyll ravengard x tav #gortash x reader #enver gortash x reader

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tomriddleslove · 8 months ago

Text

Latch.

✩ Mattheo Riddle x F!Reader

Summary: The one where the two of you have been selected for a 3 week apprenticeship right in the heart of Paris. With it being your last week, you can’t let the reserved and broody Mattheo not have one night out. Alternatively: All it takes is one moment for the boy to realise he’s in love

A/N: Listen to the damn song or i’ll fight you 🤺

Songs: Latch - Sam Smith, Disclosure (do me a favour and listen to this one slightly slowed)

“Oh come on, Mattheo.” You plead, an exasperated tone edging into your voice as you face the impassive boy.

He sits in on the chaise lounge in his room, a book held in his hands. He doesn’t even entertain your pleas, remaining silent as you walk over to him.

You crouch down in front of him, pulling the top of his book down into your hands. This forces him to look down at you, and you swear you see him momentarily falter as he finally notices what you wanted to do, or rather, where you wanted to go.

“It’s our last week here. Soon we’ll be stuck with only the common room as the best place to go out to.” You say with a small huff.

You get up, dusting down the front of the dress you wore. It was a deep, almost blood-red colour, and If Mattheo didn't have such an aversion to anything remotely resemblant of the Gryffindor house he would have complimented you on it. It was made of a delicate fabric, not quite silk but close enough. It draped over your form and came down to your mid-calf, and you had put on a bit of makeup too.

Mattheo had always thought you were beautiful. Whether you had your hair tied up and you were in your school uniform, or if you were out on the quidditch field barking out orders to the terrified 3rd years. But now, you truly were something else.

He looks around his room with a small, impatient sigh. Both Mattheo and you had been selected for a 3-week apprenticeship that would take place near the end of the summer holidays. Had it been anyone else, Mattheo would have been far less enthusiastic. However, it was you, and you were the only person he could tolerate. So, the experience was….

Enjoyable.

“Where do you want to go?” He says, quirking a brow as he dog ears the page.

“Out! Merlin, I don't know, to a restaurant, or on a walk. We’re in Paris, for heaven's sake, let’s do something on our last day!” You plead, continuing.

“Mattheo, I know you hate crowds, but this is Paris," you continue, emphasising the city’s name as if it holds all the magic in the world—which, you suppose, it does. "You can't come to Paris and not do something worth remembering. Besides, I’ve put on a dress! Don’t you like it?"

You do a little twirl to demonstrate, and Mattheo’s gaze follows the fabric as it flares out, his eyes momentarily softening. You know you’ve got him; he’s never been able to resist you when you’re like this, energetic and full of life. The fact that it’s his last day with you here makes the idea of staying in his room seem utterly bleak.

He finally sighs, closing the book and setting it on the side table. "Okay, fine," he says, standing up. "But I’m not dressing up like you."

You grin, tugging his hand as he stands up.

“I don’t expect you to. As long as you’re coming with me.”

You grab your jacket, shoving the keys to the dingy little inn into your pocket as you step out into the cold night air. The streets become livelier as you venture out of the twisted back alleys, lively with chatter and the smell of street food.

You lead him along the Seine, pointing out little things that catch your eye, like street performers and boats with glowing lanterns. Despite his scepticism, Mattheo seems to relax a bit, keeping pace with you and even cracking a faint smile when you tease him about his grumpy expression.

He keeps shooting wary glances at the crowded streets, clearly uncomfortable with the throngs of muggles milling about. You can't help but chuckle at his discomfort, finding it endearing in a strange way.

"Relax, Mattheo," you say, "It's just a walk. What could possibly go wrong?"

He raises an eyebrow, clearly not convinced. "Famous last words," he mutters under his breath.

You hated to admit he was right. You could only pray he didn't notice as you take a turn and venture down an alleyway that seems to be getting impossibly narrower. Just as Mattheo’s about to speak up, the clearing opens up into a small square. At the far end, there's a line of people outside what looks like a converted warehouse, with neon lights casting a soft glow over the scene.

“Nope," he says flatly. "I'm not going in there."

“Oh come on Mattheo, please?” You pout, turning to him. You grab his hand with both of yours, looking up at him earnestly as you continue. “Just for a little while! Its our last weekend here, and I doubt you’ll be coming back to go clubbing in Paris anytime soon.”

His eyes flicker between the queue of people and you, and you swear you see his resolving cracking slowly. But, just as quickly as it came, it left, and he shakes his head.

“Absolutely not. Those are muggles. I refuse to mix with them like this." His voice was stern, but there was an edge of uncertainty, his eyes darting around the lively square.

"Mattheo, it's just one night," you said, squeezing his hand, trying to inject some enthusiasm into his reluctance. "It's Paris, and we're young. Besides, I need you with me, just in case something goes wrong." You threw in a playful wink, knowing that he couldn’t resist the call to play the role of protector.

Mattheo groaned, running a hand through his hair. "This is not my idea of a good time," he said,. "I don't like crowds. I don't like muggles. I don't like... all this."

You took a step closer, your voice softening to a near whisper. "But you like being around me, right?” You say, and he grumbles under his breath.

There it was, the moment of hesitation, the crack in his resolve. He looked into your eyes, and you could tell he was wavering. His stern facade faltered just enough for you to push him toward the line, one step at a time.

Hook, line, and sinker.

"Fine," he grumbles, rolling his eyes in mock exasperation. "But if anyone asks, I'm here under duress. And if something goes wrong, I told you so."

“Yes yes, I’m the bad guy. Heaven forbid you go clubbing and live a little .” You mock, dragging him to join the queue. You don't miss the way he shields you, standing protectively around you as you wait in the cold. The line moves fast enough, and before you know it you're in the club. You grab hold of the hem of Mattheos sleeves, not wanting to risk getting him lost before he curses you to hell for eternity.

Neon lights flash erratically, casting shifting patterns over the dance floor. Music booms from speakers positioned at every corner, making it nearly impossible to hear anything but the thumping bass. Bodies press against one another, dancing and swaying in a chaotic rhythm.

You glance at Mattheo, and his discomfort is written all over his face. His eyes dart around the room, looking for any sign of danger or trouble. It's not just the crowd that has him on edge; it's the sheer volume of it. It’s far more chaotic than anything he's used to, and the fact that it's packed with muggles only amplifies his anxiety.

You give him a reassuring squeeze on his sleeve, knowing he's on high alert. "Relax, Mattheo," you shout over the music. "We're here to have fun, remember?"

He doesn't look convinced, but he nods reluctantly. "Just be careful," he mutters, his voice barely audible above the din. "This place is a madhouse."

You head to the bar, weaving through the sea of people, and order a couple of drinks. You notice that Mattheo is hovering close behind you, his body language protective as if he's ready to jump in at the first sign of trouble. You hand him his drink, but he barely takes a sip, his eyes constantly scanning the crowd.

You weave through the crowd with practised ease, all the whilst Mattheo barges through with little to no care. You sip your drink with reckless abandon, tipping it back as you begin to dance to the music.

It's silly, and it sounds like a nightmare if you were to describe it. But it’s so freeing, so addictive. You’re far from wizarding high society, not having to worry about upholding a certain appearance or looking over your shoulder for those who may have grievances against you. You're surrounded by people who don't know your name, don't know who you are, but they dance alongside you, and won’t bat an eye to a thing you do.

This, is what freedom was.

People move and dance, a blur of faces and limbs. It's hard to tell where one person ends and another begins, and Mattheo is on high alert, trying to keep you in his line of sight.

But then, in a moment of chaos, you disappear into the crowd.

He starts to push through the crowd, not caring who he elbows out of the way, his eyes scanning frantically for a glimpse of you. It feels like everything is moving in slow motion—the throngs of people, the flashing lights, the relentless pulse of the music.

His anxiety builds with each passing second, the worst-case scenarios racing through his mind. He curses himself for letting you drag him into this. He's always been cautious, always careful, and now you're lost in a sea of strangers, and it's all his fault.

Then, suddenly, there's a break in the crowd.

He sees you. You're on the dance floor, surrounded by people, but to him, it feels like you're the only one there. The lights seem to focus on you, casting you in a soft glow.

Mattheo feels his breath catch in his throat. It's like the world has stopped, and all he can see is you. The way you move, the way you laugh, the way you just... shine. It's mesmerising, and he realises instantly that he's never felt this way.

Rather, he’s never realised he’s felt this way before.

All of a sudden it was clear as day. He loved you. There was nothing more to it. No one, and truly no one, could have convinced Mathteo to come here. But the second you had asked, he was a goner, even if he tried to convince himself otherwise

You spot him, your eyes lighting up with your god-forsaken impish smile as you beckon him over. He’s there in an instant, his body carrying him over to you before he even realises it. His hands find home on your hips, and he's stuck staring at you as though you've hypnotised him.

Bodies press against him from all around, but all he sees is you. The way the silk of your dress feels against his fingertips, the way your perfume smells, the way you gaze up at him in an equally as entranced way.

It’s you. All you. It’s always been you.

And who were to deny it? Mattheo, the boy who came with scars and even more secrets, the dark and brooding boy who no one wanted to befriend. The boy who, no matter how hard he tries to plead otherwise, is the most caring boy you know.

When it's raining outside and you're caught without an umbrella, he's the one who magically finds one and holds it over your head. When you're studying late into the night, he's the one who leaves a cup of tea by your side, even if he's long gone by the time you notice it. He'll take the fall for you when you're caught sneaking out after curfew.

How he listens, really listens, even when you talk about the most mundane things as if every word you say is precious.

Mattheo, the boy with the dark hair and the darker secrets, who keeps everyone at arm's length. Yet, he lets you in, inch by inch. He doesn’t talk about his past, but you know it’s there, lurking beneath the surface. You see it in the way he flinches when someone gets too close unexpectedly, or how he tightens up when someone mentions the Dark Arts. But with you, he’s different. With you, he’s at ease.

So when you ask him to come to the club, he comes. Even if he’s not comfortable with it, he’s here because you asked, and he’d go anywhere you asked him to.

The music seems to fade into the background, nothing really mattering when your hands come up to rest on his shoulder. You mindlessly twirl one of his dark curls with your finger, tucking it back as you gaze into his eyes.

You dance with him, The flashing lights and the crowded dance floor don’t matter when you’re in his arms. There’s something about the way he holds you, protective yet gentle, that makes you feel like you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be.

You tilt your head up to meet his gaze, and he leans down, his lips close to your ear. "Are you having fun?" he asks, his voice low, barely audible over the music.

"Only because you're here," you reply, smiling as you wrap your arms around his neck.

It’s in this moment that you know you love him. You love the way he acts like he's tough and detached, but he cares more than anyone you’ve ever known. You love how he’ll stay up late to help you study for an exam, even if he has one the next day. You love that he’ll share his favourite books with you, the ones he never lets anyone else see. You love the way he makes you feel safe, even when he’s terrified of certain things.

Mattheo, the boy who’s never had much use for friends, who finds it easier to keep people at a distance, is the same boy who would drop everything if you needed him. The boy who looks at you like you’re the only thing that matters.

As you dance together, you know that it’s him.

Because it’s him. It’s always been him.

He pulls back slightly but pauses when his face is right in front of yours. Breath mingling, lips just barely brushing. You're so damned close, yet so far, and all he needs to do is lean ever so slightly forward.

“Mattheo-” You murmur, taking every last bit of his restraint with your words as he surges forward, lips meeting yours in a kiss.

It’s sheer longing, years of suppressed feelings coming to the surface. It’s as though you can feel the emotion ebbing off him with the way he kisses you, his hands gripping your waist firmly as he pulls you into him.

He feels like he can breathe now, like he had been suffocating all this time and all he needed was you to breathe freely. He can’t get enough of you, pulling you so impossibly close you'd think he's trying to merge your bodies until you were both one. Now he's had a taste, he needs all of you, every last bit.

Mattheo's breath is hot against your skin as he pulls back for just a moment, just enough to look into your eyes. His gaze is intense, his pupils dilated, and you can see the emotions he's been keeping hidden.

He loves you, and it's written all over his face.

He presses his forehead against yours, his breathing ragged, and you can feel the tension in his shoulders starting to ease. The corner of your lips curve upwards into a small smile as you look at him, playing with the curls on the nape of his neck.

“Let’s get out of here, yeah?” You hum, and he nods, following your lead.

-•-

You take his hand, interlocking your fingers with his as you navigate through the throngs of people on your way out of the club. It's still loud and crowded, but none of that matters now. There's a calmness between you and Mattheo, a sense of understanding and connection that feels as natural as breathing.

As you step out into the cool Paris night, the change is striking. The noise and chaos of the club fade away, replaced by the soft hum of the city after dark. The streets are quiet, lit by the glow of streetlights and the occasional flash of a passing car. The atmosphere feels surprisingly warm, though you can’t tell whether it's the warmth you feel being with Mattheo that makes it feel that way.

It's like stepping into another world, one where it's just the two of you. You walk side by side, Mattheo's hand warm in yours, his thumb tracing gentle circles against your skin. It feels so natural, so right that you can't help but wonder what you were doing before this. Everything’s faded into nothingness, there’s nothing that could be more important than Mattheo.

You walk in silence for a few minutes. You admire the views, and Mattheo admires you.

“Are you excited about leaving?” You ask, breaking the silence with your words. Mattheo doesn’t respond for a second, the silence punctuated by the soft clicking of your heels against the cobblestone path.

“Not really.” He says, and you turn to him, raising a brow.

“How come? You seemed more than happy to leave when we first came here.” You jibe as you fumble for the keys, unlocking the door. Just as you unlock the door and push it slightly open, Mattheo wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you inside swiftly. It's so unexpected that you squeal in surprise, and then you're pressed against the door, the wood cool against your back. The lights in the hallway are dim, casting shadows across his face, but you can see the smirk tugging at his lips.

He doesn't give you time to react before he leans in and kisses you, his lips finding yours with an urgency that leaves you breathless. His hand cups your cheek, tilting your head just so, deepening the kiss. He kisses you like he can’t get enough of you, a kiss that says he’s right where he belongs. A small sigh escapes your lips, your hands coming up to tangle in his messy curls for the second time that night as you return the kiss. And as he pulls back, his forehead resting against yours, you can feel his breath hot against your skin.

“Because now that I have you in my space,” he murmurs, his thumb tracing a line along your jaw, “I won’t let go of you.”

You laugh, feeling a warmth spread through you that has nothing to do with the fireplace that crackles away in the room beside you. "Is that a promise?" you tease, wrapping your arms around his neck.

"More like a guarantee," he replies, his smile widening.

Your smile broadens at his promise, and you can’t help but tease him. “I’m happy to hear that, because I was worried I’d have to tie you down to keep you around.”

Mattheo chuckles, his grin spreading as he leans in for another kiss. It’s soft and playful, but there’s a hunger belying it, like he’s making up for lost time. You giggle as he peppers you with quick kisses, his hands never leaving your waist. The way he holds you is both protective and gentle, as if he’s found something precious and doesn’t plan to let it go.

He scoops you up in his arms, carrying you upstairs as he steals kisses from you. Its messy, and you bump into the wall far too many times. He can't wipe the grin off his face as he pushes the door to your bedroom open. The way you laugh between the kisses, the way you hold onto him, the way you gasp his name when you both almost topple down the stairs.

Everything about you is burnt into the recesses of his mind, a presence so strong the only thing Mattheo knows is you.

But that’s alright with him. Besides, it’s only ever been you.

#slytherin #slytherin boys #tom riddle #harry potter #draco malfoy #lorenzo berkshire #slytherin boys fic #theodore nott #blaise zabini #pansy parkinson #mattheo x you #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheoxreader #mattheo riddle #mattheo x y/n #mattheo riddle fluff

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sailoryooons · 22 days ago

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Obsidian | Preface | Red (myg)

☾ Summary: You've never been able to forget a face. Neither has Min Yoongi. And you both remember the face of the man who ruined your lives.

☾ Word Count: 1,046

☾ Genre: Urban fantasy, criminal/syndicate, strangers to lovers, angst, eventual smut

☾ Rating: Dead Dove. Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.

☾ Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence and death, graphic depictions of blood and dismemberment, depiction of stab wounds and being stabbed, feeling of death/on the cusp of death, reference to Yoongi negatively being referred to as a momma's boy, one (1) poisoned and dead fish, death of parents.

☾ A/N: Hi, I am so nervous to be writing this series again and re-doing what I feel like I got wrong the first time. I hope you like the new and what I think is improved version. This preface is much of the same as it's original predecessor, but with a little more consistency in the voice I will use for the rest of the story telling and a little heavier on the experience Yoongi is having. Additionally, the magic system in his has been tweaked from the original, but you will see that in later chapters and as always, I will include the Jewel Caste at the bottom of each chapter.

☾ A/N 2: If you were on the tag list for the original fic and you would like to be removed, please don't hesitate to let me know. I will be going off the same tag list request form I have used the past year, which might include users no longer interested in this story. Please don't worry about messaging me if you want to be removed or alternatively select the removal option on the tag list request form linked below the disclaimer.

☾ Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios.

Main Masterlist ☾ Ask ☾ Tag List Requests ☾ Series Masterlist ☾ Next Chapter

Min Yoongi dies the same day as his favorite koi fish.

When he opens the door to his home, the world is awash in red. Red on the tile, red on the carpet. Red on half of his mother’s face - the other half can’t be red because it’s missing. Her jewels are missing too, none of the normal sapphires that glitter on her fingers and ears in their rightful place.

Red weeps from the ceiling, red spills under the table. Red soaks through Yoongi’s socks as he stands in the kitchen. He’d left his shoes by the doorway like his mother always asked him, and now they’re red red red.

At the center of all of that red is his father, head missing. No - maybe not missing. Yoongi’s eyes keep scanning the tableau of crimson until he sees the head of Min Yujun a little ways from his body. Not missing, but not in the right place. Lights out. No one home.

Yoongi’s eyes go to his father's hand - he has to look on the other side of the room from his father’s head to do it - looking for the jewels that should be on his fingers. Yujun always has his onyx rings on, perfect gems set into gold bands. Onyx rings, onyx necklaces, onyx bracelets.

There’s no onyx here. Just more red, dripping from the blunt edge of fingertips recently cut too short. Yoongi diverts his eyes. Seeing the ringless hands of his father is worse than looking at the severed head, the perversity of it turning his stomach.

Yoongi never hears the man behind him. Doesn’t see it coming until he’s slammed from behind, a wall of radiant energy knocking him forward toward his father’s body - not the head. Yoongi screams as he hits the floor - can’t help it. He rears back, pushing away from the jeweless body, but his hands slip in all that red.

His stomach roils but there’s little time to think as he rolls to the side. He summons the power in the onyx rings on his fingers, feels the vibration as they recognize his call, ready to fight back.

He stops entirely when he sees the face hovering above him, immediately dropping the summoning of his radiant energy. He’s so shocked to see Kim Juwon leaning over him that at first, he doesn’t feel the knife carving out his stomach.

Yoongi opens his mouth to ask for help finding his dad’s rings, but he’s interrupted by the soft way Juwon says, “I’m sorry.”

Yoongi thinks Yujun means about his parents, maybe. But then white hot pain blooms in his stomach and Yoongi screams, looking down to see the knife pulling down, opening him up. Red red red red. More red. So much red that Yoongi didn’t know he had that much red inside of him.

Juwon pulls the onyx rings from Yoongi’s fingers. Yoongi tries to pull his hands away from the elder, crying as he tries to keep the red inside. It’s spilling out of him faster than he can keep up with, his panic mounting as Juwon pulls the onyx stones from Yoongi’s ears. Juwon does it gently, as though he’s afraid to hurt Yoongi. Like he doesn’t want to spill more red.

Yoongi thinks he cries out for his mom. At least he forms the words, and tries to beg for her help. His dad doesn’t have a head to yell at him to stop being a momma's boy, so Yoongi screams for her. Wants her to wake up and crawl over to him and hold him together. To stop the red.

He’s never been afraid of dying until right now.

He doesn’t remember Juwon leaving him there, bleeding out and toeing the veil, ready to join his parents on the other side. Yoongi thinks he sees them, thinks he hears them calling to him. But there’s a stronger call, a vibration that pulls at him. That begins to itch. A frequency he can’t let go of.

Yoongi feels it more than he sees it and he starts slipping across the floor to where a single ring has rolled under the fridge. Juwon wouldn’t have noticed - couldn’t have noticed. Juwon radiates at onyx, never obsidian.

No one but Min Yujun radiates at obsidian. Or used to.

But now the obsidian calls to Yoongi and he slides toward it, hand pressed to his stomach, trying to stop the red. His hands are wet and sticky and he gags, feeling something slippery when he presses too hard on the wound.

The obsidian ring pulses, an invisible force under the fridge. Yoongi slides his hand under, gritting his teeth at the tight fit as he reach reach reaches. Just a little to the left. Almost. Almost. His fingers make contact with the ring and energy explodes through him.

Yoongi lets out a guttural sound, somewhere between a yell and a gurgle as he lies on the floor, thinking it might be too late. But as the power surges through him, vibrating at a higher frequency than Yoongi has ever known, he realizes his father has left him a single parting gift.

There on the kitchen floor, Yoongi radiates at obsidian for the first time. Feels his body stitch itself back together, itchy and hot and bothersome. When he’s done, he lays on the floor, sobbing up at the ceiling and trembling, sick and corroded by the powerful gem.

Hours or minutes pass, he isn’t sure. But when he gets up and sees his home painted red, he decides that Min Yoongi must die here too.

Sliding the ring on his finger, he stands. He is dripping in more red than he’s ever known, but there is black on his finger, the darkest jewel on the caste and the most dangerous power to wield.

Stepping out of the red-filled home and into the night, he takes a deep breath. Sees his favorite fish turned over in the koi pond, bloated with poison. That fish had been given to him by his mother as a birthday gift, a symbol of perseverance and strength.

So he takes the name of his favorite fish and walks into the world born anew, leaving the ghost of Min Yoongi behind as Agust takes his place.

THE JEWEL CASTE

*IN ORDER FROM TOP TO BOTTOM THEN LEFT TO RIGHT OF POWER.

Lights

Opal → Selenite → Diamond Rose Quartz → Morganite → Kunzite

Mids

Jade → Peridot → Flourite Jasper → Spinel → Ruby

Darks

Turquoise → Azurite → Sapphire Tourmaline → Jet → Onyx

Corrosives

Emerald → Garnet → Midnight → Obsidian

TAG LIST:

@astroodledream @myynameisbuckyy @idkjustlovingbts @hobibbb

@codeinebelle @rinkud

#yoongi smut #yoongi fanfic #min yoongi fanfic #suga fanfic #suga bts #yoongi series #suga smut #bts fanfic #bts smut #yoongi x reader #yoongi x you #min yoongi smut #min yoongi x you #min yoongi x reader #min yoongi x y/n #mafia yoongi

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infamous-light · 25 days ago

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Their Eyes, Your Chains

Yandere Agatha & Rio Headcanons

Agatha Harkness x Rio Vidal x Gender Neutral Reader

AO3: Their Eyes, Your Chains

Word Count: 1K

Warnings: Possessive/obsessive behavior, yandere, manipulation, threats, stalking, jealousy

| Agatha

Agatha first discovered you on the outskirts of Westview. The instant her eyes landed on you, something primal stirred deep within her – an insatiable hunger that she couldn’t quite place. You looked so fragile, so misplaced in a world that would sooner consume you than offer kindness. At that moment, she knew she had to have you. You were perfect.

To ensure your safety – and her claim on you – Agatha placed a magical sigil on you, visible only to her. It would flare up if you strayed too far from her or if someone with ill intent approached you. You were hers and she would not tolerate anyone or anything that dared to threaten that bond.

Agatha controlled every aspect of your life – where you went, who you spoke to, and how long you stayed away from her. She masked her actions as “protection,” but the truth was clear: her obsessive need to keep you close drove her every move.

She was territorial. To Agatha, you belonged to her, and she allowed no one else to get too close to you.

Despite her possessive nature, Agatha showered you with attention, gifts, and affection, but her love still felt suffocating.

When you pushed back against her control, she alternated between cold fury and honeyed words, making you feel guilty for wanting freedom. “You don’t understand, darling. I do this because I love you. No one else will protect you the way I can.”

If you ever did manage to leave her, Agatha would go to terrifying lengths to bring you back. She would track you across the ends of the earth, twisting reality itself to prevent your escape. She might even cast a powerful spell to trap you in a dreamlike illusion, where you were blissfully happy and unaware of her manipulations, ensuring you would never wish to leave her side again.

Agatha’s most severe threat was to bind you to her permanently with a soul-link spell, tethering your life force to hers so escape would be impossible. “You are mine.” Yet, unbeknownst to you, she had already decided to cast it the moment she met you.

She frequently called you terms of endearment like “darling,” “my love,” or “pet.”

Agatha wanted you, and she would stop at nothing to ensure that you were entirely, irrevocably hers.

| Rio

As the personification of death, Rio saw you as someone destined to be hers. All living things would inevitably belong to her in the end, but she didn’t want to wait for that – she wanted you now and forever. Her obsession with you felt timeless, as if it had always existed, lying dormant until the moment it could finally flourish.

Rio preyed on your fear of mortality to keep you dependent on her, constantly reminding you how fleeting your life was and how frail you were compared to her eternal nature. “They’ll all leave you eventually. But me? I’ll always be here. Isn’t that what you want – someone who’ll always be here for you?” Her words burrowed into your mind, twisting your emotions until you could no longer tell if remaining by her side was truly your choice or hers.

When she was in a particularly indulgent mood, Rio could be achingly sweet with you, though her sweetness was always laced with a dangerous possessiveness. She would hold you as if you were the most fragile thing in the world, her hands cold but her touch inexplicably soothing. Yet in the same breath, she would whisper unsettling things like, “You're mine, sweetheart... forever and always. No one else can ever have you.”

Rio doesn’t tolerate anyone getting too close to you. She was convinced that she alone was worthy of being by your side. After all, she was inevitable, eternal – the one destined to claim your soul in the end.

If she perceived anyone as a threat to her claim over you, they had simply disappeared. When you confronted her about it, Rio’s dark eyes narrowed, and her voice carried a chilling warning: “I don’t like sharing. Do I need to remind you what happens when people overstep?”

If you dared to defy her, Rio would turn volatile. She would threaten to bring death to those you love or cause harm to innocent people, showing you the lengths she would go to keep you bound to her. She would make you feel like you were the one in the wrong, insisting that only you could “end her loneliness” or that no one else could ever understand her the way you do.

In extreme circumstances, Rio would remind you in a low, bone-chilling voice that no mortal can escape death – and by extension, her.

No matter how far you fled, no matter how cleverly you tried to hide, Rio would always find you.

She didn’t just crave your love – it was deeper, darker than that. Rio demanded every piece of you, body and soul.

To her, you were the flickering light in an eternal void. You were her meaning, her obsession, her undoing.

| Agatha & Rio

God help you.

Agatha and Rio had both claimed you as their own. Neither of them could imagine a reality where you belonged to anyone but them, and each had made it clear that you were theirs and theirs alone. “You belong to me, just as you belong to her.” They would whisper, almost in sync.

Agatha’s possessiveness was passionate and fiery. She would often press herself against you, her hands grazing your arms or waist to remind you of her presence. Rio, on the other hand, had a more subtle approach – she would lean in close, her breath warm against your ear as she murmured soft, possessory words or let her fingers lightly trace the back of your neck.

Both Agatha and Rio were quick to notice any tiny change in your behavior. If you were quieter than usual, Agatha’s gaze sharpened, and she would press you for answers, “What’s wrong? Tell me.” Rio, however, will casually drape an arm around your shoulder, murmuring, “Who upset you? Just say the word.” Neither will rest until they know what’s troubling you and how to make it right.

Together, Agatha and Rio were a constant reminder that no matter where you go or what you do, you belonged to them and they’ll ensure that it stayed that way, forever.

#agatha harkness x reader #agatha harkness x you #agatha harkness #agatha all along #rio vidal x reader #rio vidal #rio vidal x you #agathario #agatha x rio #agatha harkness x rio vidal x reader #agatha all along fanfic #marvel

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copperbadge · 1 year ago

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As someone who's very conscious of individual fundraising, between my job and my work with Radio Free Monday, I'm seeing an uptick lately in something that I want to talk about. But it's sensitive, so I'm asking you all to read this in the spirit of help, and understand that any negative tone you take away from this is not my intention.

We live in communities: neighborhood, friends groups, workplaces, fandoms. Part of the point of community is that we help others in that community. But there's an aversion to the idea of non-reciprocal aid, of accepting financial help that won't be repaid. And on the one hand I understand; nobody wants to be perceived as a freeloader. But I don't think we can move past the idea of transactive relationships, an ultimately capitalist idea of how we relate to others, until we stop stigmatizing it, even when we're the beneficiaries of it.

I see a lot of "normally I would never ask for help" and "I hate to ask for money" and "I'd rather die than accept charity but" and I'm sure that's true. But...you don't need to say it.

If someone is inclined to give, it doesn't matter. If someone isn't inclined to give, it doesn't help. Charitable giving on the individual level is not a sales situation. There is no magic combination of words that will induce someone to give if they weren't going to. And the more we protest that normally we wouldn't accept, the more we loudly imply that there is shame in asking, the longer it will take us to achieve a compassionate and supportive society.

And also, frankly, you're making other people feel like shit for asking too. Which I know is not something anyone wants.

If you need to ask for money that sucks and I'm sorry. I've been there and it's a real bind to be in. But I also know that in those situations energy is short, and this is one less thing to expend energy on -- instead of protesting your aversion to asking, put that energy into doing one thing to make it easier for folks to give -- make your payment app username a hyperlink or a QR code, or make a carrd with your giving options and link that.

Instead of "I would never ask for money normally" say "I know there are many kind people out there who will see this." Instead of "I hate to make this post" say "You all understand how difficult life can get." The nonprofit world has done a lot of studying of what makes people give, and positivity is a huge aspect of it. Opening with a negative, particularly a negative that people see constantly in other solicitations, is more likely to hurt your chances than to help.

Don't follow a script that continues to debase and abuse you. Mainly because it's not actually helping; there's no upside to prostrating yourself before an imaginary combative donor. Talk to the people who are actually likely to give, who recognize themselves in your words when you talk about kindness and compassion and who don't need you to shame yourself in order to be worthy of support. This is not to scold or shame anyone further, but to offer an alternative that is kinder to you and more helpful to the people who want to help.

Do yourselves and your fellow sufferers the kindness of dignity; lord knows you've had enough unkindness already.

#radio free monday #philanthropy #fundraising #mutual aid

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elsa-fogen · 5 days ago

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hello lobotomy au - special delivery! PAIN.

it's even more depressing than i expected... shit. it makes ME sad. which, usually, doesn't happen.

this au is really fucking depressing.

"i'm not gonna post about this au any time soon" - she said and immediatelly posted something

okay, so, how this "surgery" affected the Trix

Stormy's now absolutely passive. she doesn't do anything on her own, doesn't talk, doesn't react. she's basically like a ragdoll - except the times when she's not. she has only two conditions now, 1 where you can do anything with her, 2 where you can't move her even with a fucking tank. nothing in between. What is going on in her hed tho is a complete mystery.

Darcy's doing little bit better. just a little bit. she still can talk, can do many things. she just doesn't. she's absolutely apathetic, and without guidence she can just… starve to death, lying on the floor near the full fridge, just because she can't make herself get up and do anything (I wanted to give her memory issues - that she can't make any new memories and wakes up thinking that the last battle with the winx was just yesterday, but i was told that lobotomy doesn't cause memory issues). she also almost doesn't feel any emotions. The only thing she feels - is rage towards people who did this to them, when she sees Icy crying. speaking of her…

Icy is lucky (or unlucky) to be the most functional one of the three. she can still walk, talk and react almost normally to her surroundings. she just has really hard time thinking anout literally anything. it's like her iq dropped from 180 to 40-50, idk. so, yeah, no plans for world domination in this condition can be made. she even has hard time planning her day. And, also, she now can't control her magic at all - anything she touches will be frozen, so she has to wear artifacts that don't let her use magic at all. But not only her magic is out of control, her emotions are as well. In my aus Icy usually doesn't cry at all. In this one tho... in this one she will cry for all her alternative versions, yeah. And, as a bonus, occasional epileptic seizures.

And the worst thing is - she DOES realise how much she changed, notices that things she used to do without thinking at all now are taking her way to long to do. And she sees how her sisters changed as well. And she hates herself, she hates the winx, she hates the light rock for doing this to them. But she can't just end her sufferings, although she was thinking about it, her sisters will not survive without her. so she keeps living. for them.

she found a way, she spends her evenings trying to live through the next day and making a plan in her notebook, she sets alarm clock for every step, she sends million delayed reminders to herself. she goes to bed very late, but at least her next day will be a little bit easier.

But... their life has another catch. Obviously, none of them can work, not with such conditions. Icy tried, but got fired in less than an hour. But they are getting only one pension - for Stormy. Why is that? Because Icy and Darcy have huge family savings. But they can't get to them - it's now too difficult of a task to do. Icy can't plan the whole thing through, something will go wrong and she will be lost. And Darcy can't even leave the house before losing last bit of motivtion. Even if she left, she would stop in the proccess without someone who'd tell her to continue. And they can't go together, not without Stormy. And with her it becomes much more complicated. Hell, they can just lose her somewhere. And so they have to just survive with what they got.

The Trix don't have anyone, except for themselves. Who will take care of Darcy and Stormy if something happens? Icy always would answer: I will. But who will take care about you, if something happens to you? Darcy and Stormy will, isn't it obvious?

she never thought, that something can happen to all of them at once.

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thebestofoneshots · 1 year ago

Text

MARAUDWEEEN

Feels Like The First Time | James Potter x reader

Pairing: James Potter x Reader

Word Count: 6 k

Warnings: Smut, fingering, P in V, lots of praise, consent is sexy, lusty!James, bashful!James, he literally can't take his eyes off you.

Prompt: As a part of the Marauween Series, this fic takes you to an Alternate Universe where James Potter is a fireman, telling the story of how you met, and how your first time came about.

Maraudween is a Halloween-inspired anthology series where each chapter transports you into a distinct alternate universe. From the real world to old western Texas and even through the dark times of vampires. These standalone tales invite you into a realm of boundless potential. Experience the enchantment of Halloween as it weaves its spell, intertwining the magic of costumes, AUs, terror and spice.

NSFW (Smut under the cut) ♡

“What can I get you, sir?” You asked, not looking up from the register as you were trying to close the tab of the previous order. The machine had been acting up lately and no matter how hard you tried, it seemed to take its sweet time between closing an old order and opening the feed to start a new one.

You were almost scowling at it when you heard a low chuckle from behind the counter, you instantly recognized it. The cute fireman, you felt your cheeks flush at the thought.

“Everything all right, angel?” he asked, voice soft even as a little smirk played on his lips.

“James!” you said with a smile, deciding to ignore the machine and talk to the man instead. He lived a few blocks away, in your same building, and he always passed by the shop to get some coffee and a snack before he finished his walk to work. Sometimes he came on his way back too, he was over so often, that you almost knew his orders by memory, “Americano?”

He shook his head “I’m feeling up for something sweeter today.”

You hummed in response, running his typical orders in your head “Late with a pump of strawberry?”

He tilted his head, seemingly thinking about it, you couldn’t help to let your eyes linger over his uniform. He’d typically alternate between blue, yellow and grey. Today he was wearing grey and you would be lying if you said he didn’t look disarmingly attractive. He was big and well built too, but that was a lot easier to appreciate on hotter days when he wasn’t wearing his jacket on top of the usual either crisp white or neat black shirt, “Yeah, that’s perfect.”

You smiled and started writing down the details in his cup. When you realised there was no one on the line behind him, you decided to prepare his drink yourself, instead of passing it over to Marcus, your coworker, and better barista between the two. James knew, and yet, he much better liked the drinks you prepared.

“Want me to add a bit of whipped cream?” You asked.

“You spoil me,” he said with a smile, you turned to give him a questioning look, a smile playing on your lips as he nodded, perhaps that’s why he liked your drinks best, they almost always came along with a smile.

“You do spoil him,” Marcus added as he used one of the machines to draw pictures over a latte.

You gave him a pout as an answer and continued with your preparation. Once it was done you turned around, Marcus had gone off to tend some table and you walked over to James, handing him his cup straight to his hands. His fingers lingered over yours as he took it from you and you felt your stomach flutter, “I’d add some cinnamon for spice,” you told him, he nodded and walked over to the sugar table, doing exactly as you told him.

“Hey, James?”

“Hmm…?”

“Good luck at work today,” you added with a smile, Marcus from one of the tables almost rolled his eyes, while James’ smile only widened.

There was a huge fire that day, you saw it on the news on the small TV in the corner of the shop, one of the old buildings near the centre of the city had caught fire. Since it had been during work hours there hadn’t been that many people inside, and thankfully no one died but about 2 dozen had ended up in the hospital due to smoke toxicity. Or so was reporting the news lady.

“Do you think James’s all right?” you asked, turning to Marcus with a little frown.

“Why don’t you go home and check on him? He lives almost in front of you anyway. This happened about an hour ago, he might be there soon...”

You nodded, and hurried with the wiping of tables, still looking a bit nervous and rushed “I’ll finish up closing,” he added.

“Thank you,” you said as you went to pick up your stuff and remove your uniform from the back room.

Marcus called your name, you turned to him “Bring him something. His favourite treat of whatever… I’m sure you already know it by memory.”

“I… Well, I mean…”

“Don’t play dumb and just take it to him, whatever it might be. Would serve you well, maybe admit that you like him as well.”

You flushed “Shut it, Marcus.”

“He likes you back, did you know?” You gave him a look “Hey it’s true! I’ve seen the way he looks at you.”

“He’s just polite.”

“Polite my ass, he’s never looked at me like that. Go on, knock on his door, patch him up and admit your crush. Maybe get it going with him too. What do you think he’d look like with those snug pants and a pair of suspenders? Only a pair of suspenders.”

You flushed a lot more this time around, the image floating to your brain unprompted, and you weren’t able to shake it off that easily. Curse your imaginative mind and Markus’ dirty one to put the idea in your head.

“So… his favourite treat?”

“It’s the lemon tart,” you admitted reluctantly. “He orders it whenever he’s feeling down. And also after bad days.” Markus smiled and leaned down to take two of them and place them on a small box for you to take home, “Thank you.”

“Thank me when you’ve seen him with only pants and suspenders!” he joked, and you shook your head in disbelief, a smile still plastered on your face as you did.

You got home after a short walk and went straight for a quick shower. It was then that you heard the thud of heavy boots in the hallway. He was walking towards his apartment. You hurried to finish and changed into simple shorts and a sweatshirt before walking the 2 door distance to his apartment. You took a deep breath and knocked on the door.

There was no answer, you considered leaving, your nerves getting the best of you, but you remembered you still had the lemon tarts and decided to try again. This time you heard some shuffling and then the door opened, revealing James, still wearing his uniform, hair clinging onto his face from sweat and blotches of soot patching his cheeks, he looked tired, but he smiled the moment he saw who it was at the door. “Fancy seeing you here, darling.”

You swallowed, his gaze having a powerful effect on you “I… I uh… I saw the news and well, I assumed you had been there, I guess I was right,” you added after gesturing toward your face, trying to refer to how blotchy he was “I thought I’d come to check if you were all right… I also brought you some of those lemon tarts you really like.”

He stared at you for a second, as if trying to process the fact that you really had taken the trouble to bring him food, just because he’d had a tough day. When he realised you really were there, and not only a fragment of his imagination, he smiled “You picked my favourites,” he said pointing at the box.

You gulped, as if scared of getting caught but nodded “You… order them often,” you said with a shrug.

He hummed “And you know all of your client’s orders?” he asked, a flirty tone slipping as he moved to the side to let you in, nodding towards the kitchen, although you already knew where it was, since the layout of his apartment was almost an exact mirror of yours.

“Only the ones of my favourites,” you responded, which got him to raise his eyebrows as he pulled out two plates and a pair of forks, placing them on the counter. You opened the small box and gracefully served one of the pies on each of the plates, he didn’t wait too long to dig in, moaning at the sweet and acidic flavour.

“You’re the absolute best,” he told you as he continued to eat “Getting this after a fire might be the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

You just giggled at his exaggeration, you didn’t know he didn’t mean only the pie, but also your company. As the two of you finished your meal, you stood up to go back to your apartment but he stopped you, a hand gripping softly onto your forearm “Hey wait!” You turned to him “Let me pay you back.”

You gasped and then shook your head. “Oh no, don’t worry about it, I get free treats since I work there.” But he didn’t let go of your arm just yet.

You saw him bite his cheek, looking to the side as if trying to find the right words “Regardless, I– Let me take you out, yeah?”

“Out… to the door?” You asked with a frown “I mean I know where it is but–”

“Out on a date.”

“You want to– Me?!?” He nodded fervently in response.

“So...?”

You smiled, you were sure you were blushing madly but his nervousness only made him even more adorable “I’d love that.”

He’d taken you to a small Italian restaurant that his friend Sirius had recommended, he told you about his life, about how he got into firefighting and you told him about yours, how you were working at the cafe as a side job to pay for your online studies. He thought you were a hero, which was almost ridiculous because if anyone was saving people between the two, it had been him.

After that date you went on many others, he frequented the cafe a lot more often, sometimes to order something, sometimes to drop by a bouquet of roses or some other kind of flower. Markus had teased you relentlessly after that, but he really was happy to see you happy. He also started giving you treats to take home a lot more often, but that was because he knew you were always sharing them with James.

“Thanks love, see you at dinner?” James asked as he took the takeaway coffee cup from your hands, you had written “Prongs,” and drew a pair of antlers on it just to tease him, since he’d told you about his friends giving him that nickname in school.

You nodded in response “Sure, want me to bring something?”

He leaned over the counter as if it were about to say something of the utmost secrecy “How about some of those chocolate tarts?” he whispered.

“Sounds about perfect to me,” you agreed and gave him a quick peck on the cheek before pulling back. He smiled dumbly after that and waved on the way out, almost bumping into a tall teacher who was also your regular.

“Watch your step, lover boy,” he told him. That day you found out Remus –the teacher who was a regular– and your boyfriend not only knew each other, but had been best friends for the longest time. He’d told you about him many, many times, but you had no way of knowing the calm, concentrated teacher who sat on his laptop grading students was the same mastermind prankster he always called Moony.

“So… how does he look in suspenders?” Markus asked you as he eyed your boyfriend finally leaving.

“Oh… well, I mean… I haven’t– we haven’t-“

“Shut it,” he said turning to you “You’ve been dating for a while now, like 2 months, right? Didn’t you tell me you slept at his apartment the other night?”

“Yeah, I mean, I did… I fell asleep watching the telly and he didn’t want to wake me.”

“I thought you meant something else…” he said as he shook his head “Maybe he’s asexual,” he added with a shrug “Total bummer for you.”

You frowned “I don’t think he– I think he’s just trying to be a gentleman.”

Markus shook his head, unconvinced “Have you tried to initiate anything?”

“We’ve snogged a couple of times.”

“And when it gets more heated?”

You shrugged “Don’t know what to tell ya.”

He hummed “You need to try harder.”

“I need to try?”

“Well to find out at least, don’t you want to?”

You shrugged it off then, but truth be told, the idea had already cemented itself in your brain. You paid closer attention to the times you snogged after that. Be it on the couch, or the counter of yours or his kitchen, it was always romantic kisses and even if he certainly seemed affected, be it his ragged breath, pink lips or expanded pupils, he never pushed for more. Perhaps he really was waiting for you to initiate things.

A few nights later, there was another fire, you had already gotten the key to his apartment so you waited over at his, bringing over some cream puffs and setting yourself on the couch while you waited. He arrived a little late, covered in soot like he had that first time you walked into his house with lemon tarts in your hand. He smiled the moment he spotted you on his sofa “Fancy seeing you here, darling,” he teased, echoing the words he’d said that first night.

You smiled “How are you feeling?” you asked.

He sighed, his shoulders slumped at that “We couldn’t… One of them didn’t make it.” You frowned, you knew he’d torment himself about it all night, so you walked over to him, taking a wet towel as he sat near the counter and started wiping some of the soot from his face.

“‘S not your fault.”

“But if we had gotten there sooner maybe–“

You pulled his chin, making his eyes look straight into yours “Jamie,” you said sternly, trying to ground him “It’s not your fault.”

He sighed again “I know, I know…” he said, and buried his head in your neck, smelling your perfume as he grabbed onto your hips, “Stay over tonight?” he asked “Please, I don’t– I don’t want to be left alone with my thoughts.”

You smiled, placing your hand on the back of his head, brushing it lightly over his messy hair before settling it at the nape of his neck “Of course, my love,” you responded simply, and pulled his shoulders back to look straight at his face “come on, let’s get to the sofa, maybe we can play something on the telly to get your mind off things.”

He pouted “I’m sweaty, and I smell of charred wood.”

You tilted your head, a small smile drawing on your lips “I think you look sexy,” you teased, before grabbing his hand to pull him up and towards the sofa. He had a diverted look as he followed.

They were screening Karate kid for like the 5th time that week, but both of you were watching it patiently. That was until the commercial break started and you turned to James, he had a small frown on his face, almost imperceptible, as if he were trying to hide it from you, but you knew him well enough to know. “You’re thinking about it again, aren’t you?”

James turned to you, a sorrowful look in his beautiful hazel eyes, “I found them, I tried, but…” You kneeled on the sofa and gave him a bone-crushing hug, or at least your version of one, since you had about half the strength he did anyway. Regardless, you heard the huff of a laugh coming from him.

You gave one last look at the telly, they were still going on some infomercial about a magical razor, yeah, no way in hell he gets distracted by that. “Hey Jaimie,” he hummed in response “How about we find another way to get your mind off things?” you asked, pulling back a little so he could see your face.

He gave you a look, “Like playing Monopoly or…” he didn’t even finish his sentence since you crashed your lips against his with a kiss. He was surprised at first but followed the kiss shortly after. Tightening his grip on your waist.

“Like this?” you said as you pulled out for air. He still had a bit of a frown, so you leaned into him again, determined to erase it with a kiss. He pretty much melted into you again, at some point you crossed your knee over his lap and you were straddling his thigh. You didn’t lean closer to him too fast, you wanted to give him some time.

Your lips started to travel from his lips to his jaw, he was right, he was sweaty, you could feel the salty taste of it as you kissed, and there was something else too, a little bit of that smoked flavour going on. You didn’t care, if anything, it really made him feel sexier. You landed on his neck, and started pressing wet kisses on a section you knew from experience he liked, and you heard a low moan coming from his throat, music to your ears.

“Wait… wait… hold up,” he said as he patted your shoulder softly, you didn’t pull back “Angel, please, I’m gross right now…”

“Don’t care,” you said between kisses “I like the way you taste.”

He stifled grunted after you said that –partly because of what you said, partly because of the way you sucked onto a particularly sensitive part of his neck– it was hard enough for him to restrain himself as it was, and you saying things like that was only making it harder.

You, without quite noticing what you were doing, started grinding against his leg, not quite against his crotch yet thought, you could still think enough to know it’d be too soon. You leaned back, trying to get to his mouth when you spotted him, he had a rather interesting expression on his face, brows furrowed, as if he was trying really hard to concentrate on something, or not to concentrate on something.

You smiled, holding back a laugh before placing your hand on his cheek, he opened his eyes, a worried look on his face “James, what is it darling?”

He swallowed, his breath was heavy, “I’m just… I’m trying not to– thinking of something else.” You raised an eyebrow at him, not sure exactly what was going on until you saw his gaze flicker down to his crotch.

“Oh.” You said quietly, and then, in an outburst of bravery, pulled your hand down to pat him. He hissed, grabbing your hand and pulling it back.

“That– that’s going to make it worse.”

You smiled again, tilting your head just a little as you stared at your beautiful boyfriend “Allow me,” you said softly “I want to make it worse.” He looked at you as if he was trying to decipher whether what you were saying was true, and you leaned in to place a kiss on his cheek “Pretty please?”

You had your forehead against his when he bit his lip and nodded, letting your hand free as you pushed it towards his crotch again. He was a lot harder than you had initially assumed he’d be, but you started rubbing your hand up and down regardless, feeling out his entire length which was nothing short of surprising. His head had somehow ended up on your shoulder again “fuck,” he said and trailed off with a few other curse words you weren’t sure you had heard him say before “That feels incredible Angel, You feel so good,” he whispered.

Eventually, you pulled your hand backward and he gave you the most reproachful look, “Hey… I want to be able to kiss you,” you said softly before leaning in for a kiss and finally closing the gap between your bodies. You had been wearing a pair of simple lycra shorts, so everything felt very close when you finally leaned your hips over his, grinding your core against the rough texture of his firefighter pants.

James was about to moan when you pulled him into a kiss again, so he moaned into your mouth, half attempting to return the kiss. His hands had now travelled to your hips, and he was helping you grind onto him, gripping almost a little too tight, not that you minded. If anything, you thought seeing this less controlled side of him was the hottest thing.

Your hands travelled to his jacket, he’d been so lost in thought when he arrived home that he hadn’t even taken it off, but that was fine, you could help him with that now. You found the plate box and started to unbutton it one by one, he had been so engrossed in you that he didn’t notice what you were doing until you moved your hands to his inside shirt to push the thick jacket to the side.

He helped you shrug it off and you set it to the side of the couch since you knew how much he cared for it. He gave you a smile through huddled lids and this time around he was the one pulling you towards him for another kiss.

You went to the buttons of his pants this time around, grinding on his thigh in an effort to not stop the buildup you’d already created. “Angel what are you…?”

“Material’s too rough,” you managed to mumble. His eyebrows knit in concern and he helped you in an instant. While he did that you fumbled with your shorts and took them off as fast as possible, not sparing a second glance to see where they fell on the floor, they were pretty ruined either way. He didn’t notice you had done that, not until you went back to straddle him and he felt the wet patch of your panties on his trouser. On his cock.

“Fuck dove,” he said when he realized.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, almost shy, thinking he might think it was gross but he shook his head.

“Don’t be, it’s fucking hot,” he said as he grabbed onto your hips again and started sliding you against him, grinding you against him. This time there was a lot more purpose behind his movements, he was quite literally rubbing you right onto his cock, you could feel it almost in between your folds through the two layers of clothing separating you from each other.

The room started feeling too hot, and you removed your hands from the back of his head and brought them to the hem of your sweatshirt, attempting to pull it off when his hands travelled to yours.

He pulled back from the kiss and stared at you, searching for your eyes “You don’t have to– Not because of the…” he took a deep breath, trying to think straight “We don’t have to do this just to distract me.”

Your expression turned soft, as you looked at him. How on earth did I get so lucky? You thought. You licked your lips, biting the bottom as you brought your hands to the side of his face. “It’s not just because of that, I want to do this Jamie, I’ve been thinking about it for a while.” He swallowed. “You think that sexy little uniform does nothing to me? I’m only human James.” He chuckled, eyes averting to the side in an adorably bashful expression that you were certain only James Potter would be able to pull off. When he looked back you gave him a teasing smile “Help me?” you asked again, nodding down.

This time it was he who bit back a grin, almost giving you a wink before he let his hands to the hem of your hoodie and helped you pull it off. He stared at you for a second. You were wearing a simple sports bra, nothing fancy, in fact, you’d dare say it was a little embarrassing since the bottom hem was frailing a bit already, but that didn’t seem to matter to James. He was staring at you as if he’d seen the hottest woman on earth. As if you had been wearing the most exquisite set of lingerie.

You blushed, obviously, you blushed, and hid your head on his neck so he wouldn’t notice, pretending you were going for a kiss, but he stopped you. “Hold up, I wanna enjoy the view,” he complained.

“When I’m wearing nicer underwear I’ll let you,” you said, pushing against him to go to his neck again, but he was stronger, if he didn’t want you to move, there was no way in hell you’d be able to move.

“Darling, your underwear is the last thing I’m paying attention to,” he said honestly. You took a deep breath and allowed him to pull you back, his eyes were blown with lust as he stared at you, at your bare shoulders he’d seen a couple of times, although not many since you started going out in winter and it still was winter. At the supple curve of your hips. At your breasts, you felt his hand twitch in your shoulder, as if he was holding himself back from touching anywhere else.

“James,” you said, getting him to turn his gaze back to your face, although you noticed it flicker down a couple of times, “You can touch.”

It was as if that had been all the permission he needed, he brought his hands down, letting them roam through your bare waist as you started to grind against him again. He was harder, if that was even possible. He groaned as you rolled your hips against his, and started trailing kisses down your neck, setting in the curve of your breasts as you continued to dry hump him.

He could see your hardened nipples through the thin cotton fabric. He’d actually seen them harden as he kissed, and then he did something you weren’t expecting, he held your waist and pulled you up a little, you almost whined at the loss of contact, but he pushed his head forward and gave an open mouth kiss to your breast, sucking and nipping through the fabric, you were now helping him hold you up with your own legs and holding onto his strong shoulders, absolutely lost in the feeling of his mouth.

He pulled back, giving you a mischievous look as he trailed his fingers over the frilled hem, there was almost an innocence to the way he was looking at you “May I?” he asked.

“Please.” He was already digging his fingers under the hem and pulling it over your head. “You too,” you added, pulling at his shirt. He quickly passed his hand to the neck of his shirt and yanked it off in a second. You gulped, you’d never seen anyone take their shirt off in such a hot way.

He was staring at you as he placed his hand on your waist and pulled you towards his face, this time licking from the underside of your breast all the way to your nipple before he closed his mouth around it and started sucking again, without the fabric in the middle you could feel his wet tongue and teeth grazing against your sensitive skin, you arched against him, and moaned his name when he bit softly.

His other hand was already massaging your other breast, kneading it and brushing his thumb over your nipple every couple of seconds. It felt incredible, and you relished on the feeling until your neediness got the best of you, “James,” you somehow managed to form the words, and grabbed the hand that was still kneading on your breast, pulling it down, to your core “Here, please.”

You saw him pull back to look at you, and he swallowed thickly but nodded, moving to kiss your neck as he traced his fingers over your wet panties “fuck, you’re so wet,” he whispered between kisses. You gripped onto his shoulder a little harder, when he pressed his finger onto your folds, you were already pretty sensitive from so much rubbing onto his hard uniform pants that even the slightest touch had you on fire.

After toying with you for a bit, he slid his finger through the hem and pushed your panties to the side, digging his fingers on your folds, while his thumb searched for your clit. He found it in the blink of an eye and you were pretty much bucking your hips against his hand in search of more friction. He let out a breathy laugh “So needy,” he said before setting one of his fingers near your entrance and digging it in.

His finger was long, much longer than yours and it reached places you wouldn’t have dreamed of, he curved it in a particular way and you let out a gasp “Yes! Please, James, do that again,” you said as you panted, he obliged, and had you grinding against his hand again in no time.

“Angel you’re too tight,” he whispered as you leaned in to kiss him again, slowly lowering yourself onto his tight. He went in for another finger as you kissed him and swallowed your whimper. He was already moving his fingers and slowly opening them inside of you, trying to prepare you, in case you wanted to continue because hell knew he did.

He pressed his thumb against your clit again, he could feel you faltering on him, your hip movements becoming sloppier as he continued to rub “Jamie I’m gonna…”

He kissed your neck “Please do.”

You leaned closer to him digging your nails into the muscles of his back as you bit your bottom lip. James separated from your neck for a second to look at you, you looked fucking stunning as you whimpered and whispered his name and a few course words almost incoherently.

“So fucking stunning,” he told you with a smile. It took you a second to come back and be able to pay attention to him, to the way he was looking at you.

You huffed a laugh “Shut up Jamie,” you said with a smile as you shook your head, he still had his fingers inside you, and it looked like he didn’t have the intention to remove them any time soon.

“How are we doing?” he asked.

You frowned, “Why do you– oh.” He flicked his thumb over your clit again, thrusting his fingers in and out in a rather sharp way “James you aren’t thinking of…”

“Of course, I’m thinking of it angel, I need to see that pretty face of pure bliss on you again.”

You almost let him convince you but you shook your head. You didn’t miss the way his smile faltered, you leaned into him, making sure to let your clit rub onto his thumb again as you shifted your weight and your hips “Not until I see yours,” you whispered in his ear, bringing your hand down to the hem of his boxers and digging your hand to grope him.

He groaned at your harsh movement, but his head fell back, an expression rather similar to yours as you dragged your hands through his length.

“Help James,” you said, words cut with sharp breaths from the effort you were making to pull his boxers down. He lifted his hips and helped you do it, all the while you continued pumping him. There was already a bit of white precum coating his tip, even if the boxers had sucked up most of it, you used it to allow your hand to glide easier around him.

“Faster,” he asked, you complied, he was already bucking his hips into your hands, “fuck doll I think I’m going to– “ You instantly stopped moving your hand and his eyes snapped open, looking at you like you had betrayed him. But you didn’t give him an explanation, you used your legs to prop forwards and lined him against your entrance “Wait, doll–“ you lowered yourself onto him, “fuck.”

You gulped, allowing yourself to adjust before giving him a look, he was looking at his cock buried in you attentively, and he swallowed thickly, you didn’t wait too much after that, and started grinding onto him, “Fuck Jamie you fill me up so good,” you whispered, as if he needed any more encouragement. You thought he did since he wasn’t moving, but that wasn’t the reason he wasn’t.

He grabbed onto your hips, and halted your movement “fuck, angel, hold up– I need–“You looked at him worriedly, accidentally bucking your hips again as you tried to search for his eyes, and then you felt it. Wet and sticky, inside you. He’d cum.

He looked at you with the most mortified expression on his face, as if he was sorry “I’m– I’m so sorry I…”

You just laughed, placing your hand on his cheek to prompt him to look at you “Hey, It’s okay my love.”

“But I didn’t… Not even like 30 seconds I–“ James was completely flustered, you weren’t sure you’d ever seen him that flustered before, you pulled him into a kiss.

“I’m taking it as a cumm-pliment,” you told him, he gave you a reproachful look and you gave him a peck on the lips. A small smile wavered its way towards his lips.

“That’s the– what a terrible pun,” he added. You bucked your hips against him again “fuck.”

You raised your eyebrow at him “Keep insulting my puns and I won’t help you with your little issue,” you threatened playfully as you started to buck your hips again, helping him empty himself completely. This time a lot slower, enjoying the way he felt on you, the way he was filling you up, how much easier it was to glide onto him with his warm cum all over you, some of it dripping to the side of your thigh and onto his already, you continued until he patted on your tight.

You nodded and pulled out slowly, setting yourself on his lap still. He still seemed awfully bashful, “Come on Jamie, I really don’t mind it.”

“But it was– our first time and I… ugh” he placed his hands over his face, groaning as he replayed the events in his head.

You bit your tongue not to laugh. At least he wasn’t thinking of the fire anymore. Mission success? You sighed and placed your hands onto his own and pulled them down, tilting your head a little in search for his eyes.

“How about…” you started, it seemed to gather some of his attention, although he was still looking at you with a dissatisfied expression “We go get a bath, and clean up…” you continued, he had finally lifted his head towards yours “we relax together a little,” you added, letting your fingers trace over his muscles, “we clean all the soot of that pretty face of yours,” you added, pinching his cheek which earned you a playful scowl from his part “and then chill for a while, see what happens next,” you finished, making sure your tone, raised eyebrows and half bitten bottom lip was suggestive enough. He looked at you, a diverted smile playing on his lips. “If it makes you feel better, we can pretend the shower was our first time instead,” you added just to spite him.

He huffed, a smile on his face as he placed his hands on your waist and stood up, holding you against him with ease. You squealed and laughed at the sudden action “James!” you reprimanded “We didn’t even take your boots off, you’re gonna fall and drop me in the process,” he looked down and groaned when he realised it was true. Regardless he tried to jump his way before the two of you ended up back on the couch. You were laughing merrily as he huffed.

“Come on hot fireman,” you told him with a smile “Take off those pretty boots of yours…” you smiled as you sneaked out of his grasp “I’ll meet you in the bathroom.”

He pretty much groaned as he saw you leave, staring at your ass as you disappeared through the door.

A/N: this one came out so much sweeter than I expected it to, but I kind of love it. It really captures that James Potter humour, doesn't it? Maraudween and The Five Senses are the anthology series where I explore writing smut, all as a way to hone my skills for the moment I write it in my Wolfstar x Reader series that's currently being posted on a weekly basis. If you have feedback, please leave it in the comments below. I absolutely love reading your comments <3

Taglist: @starchaser-lily

Leave a comment stating it if you wanna be tagged on the next chapters of Maraudween

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itshype · 2 years ago

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How I Met Your Brother (DC x DP)

Dan joins the Justice League - not as part of his rehabilitation, but as a reward for doing so well.

Tucker makes the grave mistake of mentioning Dan in front of Jazz. And as an eldest sister myself I would not be happy about an alternate version of my sibling being left completely alone in the world, no support, no family to then be turned into a psychopath. And I would be furious for them to then be imprisoned - not for life but for all time?

However, unlike me, Jazz is the world's foremost authority on ghost psychology. She has Dan out of his Thermos and in a larger enclosure within the week.

Now, a lot of fics have Jazz as a magical therapist who can say a few sentences and make any bad guy cry. Sorry, not today though.

First, they resocialise Dan like a feral cat (solitary confinement does make people get loopy), sitting outside his enclosure and hanging out, doing homework etc. This sort of gets him to figure out emotionally that he's no longer in the timeline where everyone he ever cared about died.

Danny discusses with him how many nightmares he's had over just the idea of losing his entire support network the way Dan did and he can't imagine what he's been through. But no emotions are not, in fact superior to having negative emotions.

After a few months, he decides that he does in fact want to actively try and get better. He goes to a therapist (because family members can't do therapy!!!) who's just unhinged enough to get a kick out of counselling a ghost from an alternate timeline.

There's only one relapse. Clockwork fixed it and they don't talk about it.

A month or so later they let him out of the enclosure for good. They offer to symbolically destroy it but Dan thinks they should keep it just in case.

While Dan's humanity has returned, his actual human half is gone forever. But he's interested in doing something with himself. He can't get a GED, or a degree, or be an astronaut. Maybe something in entertainment?

Tucker makes the grave mistake of mentioning that the Justice League headquarters are in space. Dan isn't as powerful anymore now he's no longer a halfa, but he knows he's handy in a fight. He loves space and due to having them repeatedly and ineffectively implemented against himself - a deep knowledge of international war tactics.

NGL, this isn't where I thought this story was going. But Dan is now an international politics, war policy and foreign affairs expert, I guess.

He helps a fair bit on the team, but his key contributions are his encyclopaedic predictions of how different international communities will react to events. If an out of control meta in Paris takes down the Eiffel Tower, he predicts which countries will immediately 'crack down' on their superpowered citizens - that sort of thing. It's invaluable for their PR team and young meta safety.

He's a friendly guy, doesn't judge anyone for losing control of their powers or going 'too far' on a villain who hurt their friends and family. And he never shuts up about his kid brother who is apparently also his best friend. He briefly mentions a baby sister he's never met and that makes everyone pretty sad.

He doesn't consider this Jazz his sister. He's already had a sister named Jazz and isn't looking for a 1:1 replacement. This Jazz is more like a mum-friend. However, he never had a Danny or an Ellie in his last life.

"My little brother told me about the trick to this level in Doomed 17, want me to explain what you're missing?"

"Sorry, I really can't possess you, even for 'anti mind-control' training. That isn't how overshadowing works, you can't become immune without exposure to ectoplasm in dangerous doses. No, I can't get you some pure ecto, my baby brother would kick my ass to hell."

"Yeah, my baby bro and I both wanted to be astronauts, I died so it's not in the cards for me anymore, but he has a real shot still, we're all rooting for him!"

Most Justice League members think he's a dead eldest brother with living siblings he's still in close contact with.

It's all fun and games until he tries to take a bullet for Batman during an ambush and it's actually an amnesia ray designed to make Batman forget about a specific case until the bad guy can complete his plan.

"I killed you all before, and I will do it again."

#dc x dp #dp x dc #mine #notfic #danny fenton #danny phantom #dc comics #dan phantom #dark danny phantom #tucker foley #jazz fenton #justice league #batman #bruce wayne

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rose-tea-and-strawberries · 1 month ago

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So we have Yuu’s pseudo-parents(Crewel and the fab five) having insane lore, but what about Yuu herself having quite the backstory before she even got transmigrated to Twisted Wonderland. We love to see a seemingly innocent girl actually being involved in the wildest incidents a kid has ever gone through.

Yuu drinking too much energy drinks one time to stay awake for an exam only discover that she made it halfway to school on foot (she lived an hour away from school by bus).

These are just some examples off the top off my head.

Yuu starting a revolution about the dumb dress code in her old school that resulted in her classmates tying up the principal in his chair and a statue getting toppled over

Yuu accidentally falling out of a ferris wheel, but somehow surviving.

Yuu having a secret sibling somewhere who she secretly writes letters to.

Yuu accidentally blowing up a bridge for a science experiment.

Yuu and her friends being chased by maniac at night.

And finally…

“Yeah, I guess that happens to you when you use dragon meat to resurrect your best friend”

Hades is like, “You WHAT?!”

Someone else is like, “I thought she can’t use magic.”

The best part is that nobody can tell if she’s lying because they’re either in denial believe that Yuu wouldn’t lie about something like that. She tells her stories with the utmost sincerity and casualness. Not even Maleficent or Chernabog can detect any lies, so it must be true.

Idk I just love the idea of Yuu being a wild child when she was younger then mellowing out enough with her experience to boot just so she has the fortitude to handle even more wild children at NRC.

OH MY GOD YES THAT WOULD BE AWESOME!

Like the kids could be trapped somewhere and Yuu would be like "Don't worry guys, I've broken out of prison before so this should be a piece of-"

"YOU WHAT?!"

Or, alternatively:

Yuu: This reminds me of that time I was in jail

Mickey: You mean like in Monopoly, right?

Yuu:

Mickey: (sweating) you mean like in Monopoly, right???

I bet Pete would think twice about messing with the club when chaotic!Yuu is around because his schemes always bite him in the back. Twofold.

In fact, all villains know that Yuu is not someone you want to mess with. I know that girl always has makeshift weapons on her. And a very comprehensive/convoluted plan on how to commit murder and hide the body (+ as well as any alibis) with like fifty back up plans and a few dozen contingency plans for those back up plans.

She and the scientist characters like the BH6 gang, Jumba, Yzma, Prof Von Drake etc are always off causing trouble so there's a rule in the club (that Yuu always breaks anyway) that she's not allowed to be left alone with them

I can see her helping one of the magical characters with a spell or whatever and her nodding along like "yeah, I got this. So which animal are we sacrificing?”

"what?"

I can see her wanting to test out different potions but Crewel and the fab five are stopping her and she's like "but I've drank poison before :( it's really no big deal :("

Oh you bet that there are like ten places her and her friends are banned from back in her world

Hades is so done with everything because he's just gotten used to this magicless mortal girl that trespasses into the underworld because Pain and Panic wanted to play just dance with her

So I'm into Epic the musical and now I'm just thinking about *SPOILERS FOR THE VENGEANCE SAGA* Yuu just casually dropping that one time she stabbed an immortal being into compliance as the entire club just stares at her in awe/horror.

The Fab Five whenever chaotic!Yuu is being chaotic:

Thanks for the ask ♡

#twst #twisted wonderland #twst yuu #fem yuu #house of mouse au #asks

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cripplecharacters · 1 month ago

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So, I have this AU where characters are divided into ghosts and ghost hunters. One of the ghosts was a cane user, and ghosts can't float in this setting, so...

How does a ghost cane work?

Canes can't die and become ghosts, but wouldn't it be weird to have a character with a cane suddenly not have it anymore? Would it be hard for them to get used to walking without it even if they don't have a body that can feel pain/weakness/etc.

(Also, they're not the only character with a mobility aid, there's a few alive ones as well)

Hello!

This is one of the best and worst parts about working in the fantasy genre.

On one hand, you don't really have much to go off of if you're looking for realism. There isn't exactly a set precedent for what happens to disabled ghosts -- or any ghosts really.

On the other hand, that really means that you have full creative control here. While we can provide some suggestions and ideas, it's up to you in the end. You're the one that knows your world the best after all.

Without more information on your ghosts, we can't provide any specific help with how to navigate this.

That said, a few potential thoughts:

If ghosts can interact with objects, they could use a normal cane.

If ghosts manifest with the clothes/items they're wearing at the time of their death, you could apply the same logic to their cane.

You could give them a cane that is made out of things that were once living. For example, one made of bone. Not sure how realistic it would be but it could be cool.

You could give them an alternative aid or accommodation.

Depending on the scope here, you could also use this as a way to further develop your world.

Maybe there's a special kind of wood that can cross between the world of the living and the dead and the cane is made of that wood?

Maybe there's a way to get items/canes in the ghost world?

Maybe there's a certain substance that can allow ghosts to interact with objects and the character coats their hands in it?

You are right that taking their cane/disability away in death wouldn't be a good move, especially if they're coming back as a ghost and play a notable part in the story.

That said, depending on why they use the cane though, they may not need it as a ghost.

For example, if they use it for chronic pain and can't feel pain as a ghost then they may not use it anymore. That said, if you go that route I'd advise to still leave other aspects of their disability. Maybe they walk with a limp out of habit or out of necessity? Maybe they use other aids like braces that they were wearing at their time of death? Just something to show that their disability is still there and not magically gone.

Hopefully some of this is helpful!

Cheers,

~ Mod Icarus

Hey!

An idea that I think would be cool is to have the cane be considered a part of their body, and so it would become a ghost too. A lot of mobility aid users treat their wheelchairs and canes as a part of them, it would go pretty hard if it was validated in the ghost realm.

mod Sasza

#mod icarus #anonymous #canes #fantasy setting #mod sasza

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bloopitynoot · 4 months ago

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9 "I birthed him myself!" WangXian Mpreg Fic List

This list was asked for by @yiling-laozu-is-loml but is open to all!!

Note: This list is made up of tried and true fics, meaning I have read them all and loved them. If you would like a specific rec list- send me a DM! I love putting together personalized lists. If you are shy, you can send anon too.

The ask:

Must have Wangxian Mpreg (they are the biological parents**!)

BottomXian only

no yin iron plot- book canon only

** okay, so yes, most of these - 6.5/9 (6.5 because there's a fic with mpreg but does the dream universe count?) - have them as the biological parents BUT I do have two fics that take the "I birthed him myself" gag and run with it (Read: the cultivation world truly believes Wei Wuxian birthed Lan Wangji's child).

Enjoy!!!

1 A Mother’s Curse (A Mother’s Blessing) (33516 words) by Eudoxia

Chapters: 1/1 Rating: Explicit Additional Tags: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Omega Wei Ying | Wei Wuxian, Alpha Lan Zhan | Lan Wangji, Huli Jing, Huli Jing LWJ, Huli Jing WWX, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Curses, Case Fic, Animal Transformation, Arranged Marriage, Misunderstandings, No Sunshot Campaign (Modao Zushi), No Yīn Iron (The Untamed TV), Cloud Recesses Study Arc (Modao Zushi), ish, Shrek References, Very vague references, Because I couldn't resist…, LXC is a good brother! He tries so hard!!, Mentions of Ace LXC, Mentions of Ace WN, Background Relationships, Jiāng Yànlí/Jīn Zǐxuān - Freeform, Lan Xichen/Wen Ning, Jiang Cheng/Nie Huaisang/Wen Qing, AND NOW FOR THE SEX TAGS, Knotting, Rimming, Blow Jobs, Oral Sex, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mating Bites, Mating Bond, Size Kink, 69 (Sex Position), Mpreg, Pregnancy, Pregnant Sex, Lan Zhan | Lan Wangji and Wei Ying | Wei Wuxian Have a Breeding Kink, Intersex Male Omegas, Vaginal Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Cunnilingus, Squirting, Lan Zhan | Lan Wangji and Wei Ying | Wei Wuxian Have a Non-Con/Rape Kink, but no actual CNC/rape play occurs in this fic. It's only discussed., there is also discussions of monster fucking but no actual monster fucking, (Intersex Female Alphas also exist in this fic but it's literally not relevant at all.), (I just wanted y'all to know they exist), Translation Available, links in first author's note to Spanish translations Summary: To avoid an arranged marriage, Lan Wangji places a curse on himself, one that can only be undone by his soulmate. He knows his family—particularly the elders—are upset about it, but Lan Wangji will not marry someone he does not love. Or, huli jing Lan Wangji curses himself to be trapped in his fox form until his soulmate comes along to free him. Enter, Wei Wuxian.

NOTES: I ADORE this fic. I love any fic in which Madam Lan is alive and well and we have mythical hybrids. This one is so damn sweet, honestly good on Lan Zhan for setting his boundaries and sticking to them. The mpreg is really a little bonus (a/b/o pregnancy), it is mostly these two Huli Jins falling in love in a sweet little slowburn.

2 A Thousand Paths, a Single Mountain (138898 words) by RohansEarings

Chapters: 23/23 Rating: Explicit Characters: Lan Zhan | Lan Wangji, Wei Ying | Wei Wuxian, Original Child Character(s), Original Characters, Lan Huan | Lan Xichen, Lan Jingyi, Lan Yuan | Lan Sizhui, Jin Ling | Jin Rulan, Nie Huaisang Additional Tags: Post-Canon, Established Relationship, Domestic Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Mpreg, Miscarriage, Fertility Issues, Guilt, C-Section, Period-Typical Homophobia, Trauma, Smut, Anal Sex, Oral Sex, Porn with Feelings, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Crying, Hugs, Slice of Life Summary: Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji decide to settle down and start a family. It's harder than they thought it would be, but they're not alone in getting through it. They have each other.

NOTES: This story is lengthy and does have a good ending but getting there is very hurt/comfort. This features handwavy cultivation magic male pregnancy but as a last resort. A CW for homophobia (wangxian wants to adopt but because they are cutsleeves there is discrimination) and pregnancy loss that causes the characters significant distress. I do promise a happy ending though! The focus is very much mpreg of this story.

3 Vow (216627 words) by draechaeli

Chapters: 47/47 Rating: Explicit Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Mainly Novel with a few CQL and Donghua bits, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, Temporary Character Death, WWXs dead for a lot of this, but he’s having fun, BeliefGod!WWX, Original Children Characters – Freeform, Adoption, Adoption but WWX birthed them all, Pregnancy Kink, Mpreg, minor male lactation, Consensual Non-Consent, Light Bondage, easy to skip nsfw chapters, brief crossdressing, Non-Graphic Rape/Non-Con, because JGS, Mentions Canon Typical Incest, Canon Typical Violence Summary: “If you’re not good the Yiling Patriarch will steal you in the night!” It was never true, in fact the first child stole herself, the second was gifted, the third begged. By the time people realised that all the homeless children of Yiling, and all the daughters about to be sold had disappeared, it became, “If you’re unloved the Yiling Patriarch will save you.” Sometimes when you make a vow not even death can release you; as Xian-Gege the Eliminator of Evil, the Protector of the Weak, and the Saviour of Children finds out.

NOTES: okay you might be asking, "how do you have an mpreg story when the main character is dead basically the entire fic" I do not answer the question but I do respond "GodWWX/accidental God of Children- Xiangege". This story is very sweet and takes so many twists and turns. Lan Zhan is the most dedicated partner omg. At times it has very crack fic energy (enter the most bizarre dream scape pregnancy and wedding), but I promise it's a good read.

4 To Love And To Lose (and to gain again) (7979 words) by PotterheadAvengerDemigod

Chapters: 2/2 Rating: Not Rated Additional Tags: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Alpha Lan Zhan | Lan Wangji, Omega Wei Ying | Wei Wuxian, Omega Verse, Parent-Child Relationship, Adopted Children, Cute, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, but i hope you guys like it anyway, honestly im not sure what to tag this, its just a self-indulgent fic where i get very confused with myself Series: Part 1 of Blue Blood Summary: Wei Wuxian wishes that he’d told Lan Wangji about the child. Maybe Zhenli would still be alive, then. The Gusulan Sect wouldn’t have let a child of one of their twin jades be killed, even if his mother was the Yiling Patriarch himself. /OR/ The self-indulgent one where I create a Wangxian lovechild and go nuts.

NOTES: This fic says it's under 10k words BUT it is part one of a 21 part series. In which WY has Lan Zhan's biological child (OC) as well as adopts a-yuan. Canon still happens and WY comes back. It has some angst, it has some fluff, and it has a happy ending! The other parts also contain an au of this au with a fix it- so if that interests you there is a LONG read ahead.

5 All I Want (47042 words) by Selenay

Chapters: 7/7 Rating: Explicit Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Mpreg, Post Holiday Romance, Consequences, Reunions, Idiots in Love, wangxian attempt to be sensible adults about it, they are very bad at it, Teacher Wei Ying | Wei Wuxian, Rating earned in later chapters, Handwavey Biology Summary: Wei Ying leaned a little closer. "The conversation we're having right now is about how it turns out I'm a bearer and we weren't careful and I'm not expecting anything from you, but now that you're here you should know that I'm…ah…you know…" "Pregnant," Lan Zhan said mechanically. "Pregnant," Wei Ying agreed. "You knocked me up, Lan Zhan. Sorry."

NOTES: A modern au with hand wavy biology. Lan Zhan, on a trip, knocks up WY unknowingly- finds him again later. WY sure is pregnant and Lan Zhan is definitely the father. The pining and miscommunication is so wild in this fic but the ending is solid!

6 Tied To The Ocean (51086 words) by NebulusCharlie

Chapters: 9/9 Rating: Not Rated Characters: Lan Zhan | Lan Wangji, Lan Huan | Lan Xichen, Wei Ying | Wei Wuxian, Madam Lan (Modao Zushi), Uncle Qiren A-Yuan Additional Tags: MerXian - Freeform, Mermaid/siren AU, Happy Ending, Fluffy Times, No Angst, eventual domestic bliss, First Kiss, Dating, Swimming, Identity Reveal, Tails, Mpreg, Merji, have to update the tags because things happened, Wedding, Children, Found Family Summary: Lan Zhan goes to visit his mother who lives by the sea. He gets swept away by the currents and MerXian saves him. But who is this boy-fish?

NOTES: This is the cutest story :'3 a little bit of Whump with Lan Zhan and his mom's relationship. it has mpreg, it has a wedding, it has supportive uncle lan qiren, includes wei yings parents(!!!!), AND it has mermaids!!! Super sweet, a little bit sad at times, but mostly sweet.

7 The Winner Takes It All (46781 words) by YilingSani

Chapters: 14/14 Rating: Mature Characters: Wei Ying | Wei Wuxian, Lan Zhan | Lan Wangji, Lan Yuan | Lan Sizhui, Lan Qiren, Lan Huan | Lan Xichen, Lan Jingyi, Jin Ling | Jin Rulan, Jiang Cheng | Jiang Wanyin, Wen Qing (Modao Zushi), Wen Ning | Wen Qionglin, Nie Huaisang, Mo Xuanyu Additional Tags: Modern AU, Single Parent Wei Ying | Wei Wuxian, lan zhan doesn't know he has a son, Old Friends, One Night Stands, No Smut, Angst with a Happy Ending, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Panic Attacks, Forgiveness, Second Chances, Inspired by Mamma Mia! (Movies), Teen Pregnancy, Mpreg, mention of miscarriage, Birth Trauma, amniotic fluid embolism Summary: "Wei Ying doesn't know why he ended up on this exact island. All he knows is that he's scared, alone and hungry. And with a child." ----- 18 years later Wei Yuan has grown into a proper young man, helping his Baba to run the hotel on the island. On the week of his wedding, Wei Yuan comes across Wei Ying's diary and decides to invite the man mentioned in it to the island, unaware of the consequences it will bring.

NOTES: The Mama Mia! AU I didn't know I needed. This story was incredible- light angst (but still some) and a relationship that finally comes together. It really follows much of the plot and A-Yuan is getting married! Who is his dad though....(jk it really can only be Lan Zhan).

BONUS FICS: "I birthed him myself!" (not really, but the cultivation world needs better sex ed).

8 Propagate Understanding (175626 words) by draechaeli

Chapters: 34/34 Rating: Explicit Additional Tags: Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, Pregnancy Kink, Consensual Non-Consent, Light Bondage, Adoption, Adoption but WWX birthed them all, Mo Xuanyu Lives, Mò Xuányǔ has an arc, Original Children Characters - Freeform, Babies for Everyone, Crossdressing, Temporary Character Death, easy to skip nsfw chapters, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence Summary: A-Yuan was birthed by Wei WuXian, A-Yuan called Lan WangJi ‘Father’, A-Yuan had Lan WangJi’s nose! Was it the time that Wei WuXian took his forehead ribbon at the Wen Discussion Conference Archery Competition?—he’d have to ask Brother. As a physician, Wen Qing has to suffer fools constantly; if Lan WangJi is determined to be Wei WuXian’s baby daddy, she wasn’t going to stop him, especially if it could save them all. And if it leads to some misunderstandings on the topic of marriage and propagation—well, it is not Wen Qing’s fault if Lan WangJi became the world’s best and worst matchmaker, making sure that children everywhere had parents. Fic is finished at 34 chapters and about 175,000 words. But as I read through before posting chapters those numbers may fluctuate.

NOTES: I honestly may have already shared this fic but I'm not even upset by it because poor Lan Zhan LOL. Also Wen Qing deserves an oscar for her performance; the fact that the entire cultivation world truly believes Wei Ying birthed a-yuan, Lan Zhan's biological son is WILD. A fic about saving the wen's through the worlds biggest (but best) misunderstanding.

9 Assumptions (50943 words) by draechaeli

Chapters: 9/9 Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Mainly Novel with a few CQL and Donghua bits, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, Adoption, Adoption but WWX birthed them all, not mpreg, Not Established Relationship, But Shh… don't tell anyone, Fluff, Canon-Typical Violence, Fix-It, gender non-conforming titles Series: Part 1 of Induction Summary: The sects vote to use an array to spy on the Burial Mounds. The Jins want to show the evils of the Yiling-Laozu, the Jiangs hope everyone will see Wei WuXian the radish farmer. Lan XiChen felt guilty and sent Lan WangJi on a night hunt. They make assumptions when they see Wei WuXian having lunch with Lan WangJi and a toddler in Yiling. And sometimes assumptions don’t make an ass out of anyone, but save everyone.

NOTES: This is literally one of the funniest fucking things I have ever read. I am not even exaggerating. These two weirdos are over there being their adorable mpreg kink selves not knowing they are being watched by every great sect, their leaders, and the gods themselves in a live broadcast. This fic ft's Lan Qiren qi deviating in a corner, Lan Xichen and Jiang yanli planning a shotgun wedding, contracts flying across the room, lots of yelling, and Jin Guangshan having a VERY bad day. 100/10 recommend.

#wangxian rec list #wangxian mpreg #wangxian #wangxian fics #wei ying #wei wuxian #lan zhan #lan wangji #mpreg #honestly these are all so good #I forgot how much I loved them #mdzs recs #mxtx mdzs #mdzs #if you want a personal wangxian red list dm me!#bloopitynoots wangxian recs

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